Une Deviation…

Driving in France, the sign I dread most is “Deviation.” A deviation is a detour, and seeing a Deviation means that you’re going to go off the main road, often into narrow streets; your GPS will be confused, your maps of no value, your fine pre-planned route out the window. In other words, an unwanted adventure is sure to follow.

We ran into a vacation deviation two days ago – not on a road, but in the kitchen. After dinner I was cleaning up and Laurie mentioned that it would be nice if we could put the coffee press into the dish-washer, but its plastic handle/holder meant that it wasn’t “dishwasher safe.” I thought, well, maybe I can push it out of the plastic, so I picked it up and pushed on the bottom; not too hard a push, but obviously too much: the bottom broke and my hand jammed into the broken part. I knew immediately that this was big trouble.

After a crazy search for the cellphone (which was in my pocket, but I was lying on the floor fighting off shock and didn’t realize that) we called Mary and Gilles and told them that I was going to need stitches and we really needed their help. Our friend Jamie offered advice on what hospital to go to, advice we gratefully followed. Mary and Gilles immediately jumped in their car and came to take me to the emergency room in the town of Nemours. There, they took x-rays, looked over things, cleaned and bandaged the cut, and made an appointment for me at a well-known hand clinic 45 minutes away from us.

Yesterday, Gilles drove us to the clinic and guided us through the process. An examination in the morning, surgery scheduled for the afternoon. The surgery went perfectly. The doctor, who spoke excellent English, told me that the glass had missed the tendon in my thumb but had grazed the nerve, so he sewed up the nerve, tidied everything up, and put in six stitches. So now I have a big bandage on my left hand, and will for a week or so.

This happened to my left thumb, but I think most of you know that some nerve damage that occurred to my right hand some years back means that I use my left hand for anything requiring fine motor skills, so losing that hand while this thing heals is a big problem. Fortunately, I can still hold a glass of wine.

The doctor said I had to change the bandage every other day, the thought of which made me queasy. But it turns out that a nurse will come to the house to do that. Phew!

So we’re on a deviation for a couple weeks (I go back to have the stitches removed in two weeks). But all is well, I’m okay, likely no permanent damage done, though the doctor did say that my thumb may have “reduced sensation.”

Sometime in the future I’ll write a bit about my experience in the hospital and hand clinic. France usually ranks at or near the top in its healthcare system and so it was interesting to see and be part of it. My only complaint is that the gurneys were too short for me; I hung over both ends – and I spent about two hours doing that!

Now, we just cannot thank Mary and Gilles enough for all their help through this adventure. They went way “above and beyond” the call of duty for us.

Me and my supplies

Post-trip edit: The emergency room visit, at which they examined the wound, cleaned it up and bandaged it, took x-rays and scheduled me for the hand clinic the next day, cost $192. In the U.S. that surely would have been in the $1,000 – $1,500. The hand clinic was an examination, surgery and a follow-up appointment: $3,200. I can only imagine how much that would have been in the United States; surely $10,000 at least. The nurse came to the house six times over the next two weeks to change the dressing and we never saw a bill for that.

Between the two health care policies I had, these costs were covered 100%.

My impression of this experience is that the facilities I visited were not very modern, but the care was top-notch.