When the doctor and nurse arrived, they couldn’t believe their eyes. Who are all these people and why are they here? My doctor knows full well what a nut job I am so he agreed to let everyone stay. French doctors and nurses are not the most gentle people on the planet…. So, prior to their arrival, I researched how to say in French “be gentle.” Additionally, I bribed the nurse and the doctor with delicious macaroons. So after we got that settled, my time to stall was over. There was no going back so let’s just do this thing. The nurse took off the Band-Aid and I started screaming, “Be gentle! Be gentle!” The doctor started to open the box with the new tube in it, and my head started to spin. I saw him fill a syringe with water and I thought I was going to faint. I decided just to look at my friends and my daughter and try to distract myself. The doctor started to touch me and as soon as I started work myself up into a full cry it was over! It was over in less than 8 seconds! I didn’t even have time to cry! I didn’t even have time to look at my new Architectural Digest! It was actually very anti-climatic. I expected more. I deserved more. Just kidding.
So now what? The doctor told me to rest and let the new tube heal. Boring. I’m in Paris for God’s sake. So I did what every good girl does after a little mini surgery… I went to the Marché aux Puces, the flea market! Yeah, I did. You know how people say to de–stress you need to go to your “happy place?” My happy place is the flea market looking at furniture
So off I go to the happiest place on earth with my caregiver. It was a beautiful sunny day and the flea market was bursting with treasures. 18th century gold mirrors, Napoleon III gueridon tables, chinoiserie blue and white vases, Provence style baskets, antique dealers sipping wine in the sunshine, a French Bulldog asleep on an antique fauteuil, stupid Americans asking, “Combien,” rock crystal sconces, antique paisley and trés belle faience. Heaven! I honestly think I deserve some type of award for most likely being the only girl working a flea market the day after a new feeding tube. Oui? I was all proud of myself and feeling rather grand when who do I see as I turn the corner? My doctor! Busted! I was totally busted! I know he was thinking, “Well Well Well, if it’s not the little drama queen strolling the flea market the day after her procedure.” The good news is that this is the first time he has seen me out of my pajamas and without mascara running down my face from being a big fat crybaby.
To sum up the latest adventures… I have learned that the moral support from my friends is what gets me through these hard times. So, thank you all of my friends and well-wishers. Secondly, I have learned that the flea market is a special refuge that is distracting enough where I feel like I am almost normal again. So merci Marché aux Puces.