Sick on the road

Sept. 18, 2008

They say a traveller's greatest fear is an empty bank account. I would add that a traveller's second biggest fear is getting sick in a strange land.

Shortly after arriving at my relatives' house in Sos, I began to get a scratchy throat. I kind of passed it off as the result of too much fun in Paris. My sore throat didn't keep me from eating or drinking the wine and Armagnac local to that region. I didn't have a fever or any other maladies.

When after a few days the sore throat persisted, my cousin Toby took me to the local pharmacy and got me this awful, minty throat spray. I took that and popped a few aspirin and felt fine.

Late last week, Kris Caren, an old friend from Connecticut, picked me up from my family's house. He was doing a trip from Bilbao, Spain, where he works, to the tiny town of Cotignac where his family lives, near Aix-en-Province, and asked me to come along for the trip and meet his family. I told him I was in.

We drove first to central France to a region called Le Lot to meet up with his cousin who lives now with his girlfriend and infant daughter. They were nice people and gracious hosts, though I spent much of the time just trying to decipher what they were saying in French. It was a good lesson in immersion but I kind of felt a little lonely not really being able to participate in the conversations. And my mood began to darken as each day in the cold, damp countryside the pain in my throat started to sharpen.

Last Saturday, I woke up with my right ear ringing and my throat on fire. The worst effect of the pain was probably on my mental well being. I suddenly wanted my mom and my cat and my bed. But Kris, who is from my hometown Redding, turned out to be my savior.

As it was the weekend, most doctor's offices were closed. Kris got on the phone and organized for a doctor to come in and meet me for an emergency visit. He then explained to that I had mal à la gorge. The doctor worked quickly taking my blood pressure and heart beat then digging his fingers into my neck to feel my glands.

"Angine," he pronounced. Strep throat.

The doctor wrote up a prescription for Amoxicillan and some heavy duty aspirin and sent me on my way. But even before taking the anti-biotics, I felt better. It was invaluable having someone with me who could speak the language and who took charge of the situation. Though Kris is a good friend, I found the situation to be yet another act of human kindness that I have found everywhere on the road through France.