The hospital, a retrospective

Sometimes, the vague mists of time can give one occasion to look back on things through the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia. To make sure that this does not happen, and to preserve the horrors of the medical experience here, I simply quote Simon's post on Katherine's wall. This expresses far more succinctly than I managed what it was like (and I just wanted an excuse to repeat it for the amusement of all).

"You have nothing to fear if you fall ill in France; you can be sure to end up dead and to spend your last precious moments being verbally and/or physically abused by some obnoxious nicotine-drenched excuse for a doctor. Meanwhile whoever accompanies you to the hospital will have six hours to wish he had some Domestos and a chemical suit to clean the toilet. For a less balanced assessment of French healthcare, see Marius' blog."