Viste medicale

For lunch yesterday I had cous cous, which apparently in this country comes with four different kinds of meat. And only one was of questionable nature this time, so I was happy.

Dave picked me up at from work at 1:00 and we drove up to Beauvais for our medical appointments. What an interesting experience.

The first thing they do is height, weight (I couldn’t be upset until I got back to the hotel and looked up the conversion), and blood pressure. Then they sit you down and a nurse asks the standard questions: are you taking any medication, any surgeries, etc. She asked if there was any “t---(indistinguishable)” in my family. I said “What? Tuberculosis?” She shook her head, and tried to come up with the word for a few minutes before giving up and moving onto the next question.
“Cancer?”
I said “oui”. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward.
I thought oh geez, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
I said “Mon grand-pere! Pas moi!”
She said “t----?” I said “no! cancer!”
She made a little note on her clipboard and I decided that I’m going to get kicked out of the country because they think I have tuberculosis.

Next I was sent to a trailer parked outside the clinic, where a technician pushed me into a small cubicle with a curtain and motioned for me to remove all clothes above my waist. This was a time-consuming activity as the cubicle was small and I was wearing a few layers. Then the tech (yes, a female) escorted me to a platform on a machine and dashed out of the room (I say “room”, but it was more of a closet). I said “What? What do I do?” She answered “Don’t move!” and the next thing you know I’m being zapped by the x-ray.

I climbed back into my layers of clothes and repeated everything to Dave, much to the relief of the technician. She pushed him into another stripping cubicle and I got ready to make my escape. Then another tech grabbed my arm and said “no. You see the doctor”, pointing to the other end of the trailer.

I squeezed into the rear room of the trailer to find a tall, skinny, older man with a stethoscope. He looked tired and obviously had no intentions of leaving his stool in the corner. He motioned with one tired arm for me to remove the top half of my clothes that I had just finished buttoning up again. Then he listened to my breathing, examined my x-ray, and finally sent me away. The technician sealed our documents in an envelope and said “You go to the prefecture”.

As we were walking away, Dave told me that a nice guy in the waiting room of the clinic had told to him in clear English that after meeting the doctor we would have to go to the prefecture for our carte de sejour. I found this information to be disturbing as I had read in at least two books that the application for obtaining a carte de sejour was similar to a root canal or a day spent at the DMV. But we were confused and unsure, so we went.
We found the prefecture of Beauvais without issue. The glamorous woman behind the front desk opened our sealed envelope, glanced at our documents, and said we were in the wrong place, we needed to go to the prefecture annex. Of course. She took us to the street, made a few “left” and “right” remarks, and we started walking.

A few blocks later we started asking questions, and eventually we were told that no, the prefecture annex is right next to the prefecture. So we walked back. By then I was pretty annoyed, but Dave kept his head and found the annex.

Once inside the annex we took a number and started talking about the carte de sejour. We eventually figured out that we didn’t have the right paperwork, but we remained in line anyway. When our number was called we stammered in bad French through the window that we had completed our medical tests but didn’t know what else we needed. We were given a checklist and sent away to come back again. Just like in the books.

So we’ll have to go back to Beauvais. But after talking to the relocation company today it seems that they’re going to walk us through the whole process anyway.

When we got home we opened the envelope to have a look at our paperwork.
I have to say, seeing one’s x-ray for the first time can be unnerving. Dave thinks his spine is crooked.