Convocation Medicale

So I finally got my crisis resolved with Banque Postale. Thank goodness. At my final appointment with the bank, the lady who had been 'assisting' me throughout this debacle informed me she'd called her daughter who is currently in the US to ensure she wasn't experiencing banking problems such as I had. I'm not certain as to why her telling me this was so bothersome - perhaps it's because she was the one largely accountable for the problems I'd experienced and was inadvertantly telling me that I had indeed been jerked around. Moving right along, I have finally been paid so there's no need to worry about me perishing here in France.

Now I'd like to tell you about a queer little procedure all foreigners living in France must be subjected to called the 'Convocation Medicale'. In order to ensure that we, as foreigners, are not vectors of Tuberculosis to the good people of France, it is necessary to have an x-ray at a state hospital. The fact that I'd already had a rather intensive medical exam back in Canada in order to participate in this program is moot. So is the fact that I've already been working in close proximity to my children at school and would have certainly transmitted TB to them by now. Nevertheless, I went to this all-day examination in Nancy where I had to trek out to the largest and most depressed-looking hospital I'd ever seen (thus leading me to the conclusion that all hospitals constructed in the 1970s should be torn down and replaced by more cheerful buildings). Upon checking into my appointment in the bowels of this monstrous building, the nurse instructed me to go into the cabine and take of all clothes above my torso. This is where I will admit that I am a product of a prudish country. There are very, very few times in a Canadian adult's life where they must disrobe to the point of nudity beyond the bedroom, including medical visits. Luckily I'd been forewarned by another assistant that I would need to do this, so I'd spent the preceeding week morning gearing myself up for it. My French colleagues found it hysterical when I told them I was nervous about taking my clothes of for my impending medical visit and asked if we kept our coats on in Canada for the procedure. Cheeky.

The procedure itself was pretty painless. I waltzed into the x-ray room topless, pretending I hadn't a care in the world and about 45 seconds later I was back in the cabine getting dressed. All that worrying for nothing. And the best part is that I got to keep the x-rays for myself.



Oh, and that I don't have TB, of course.