4.9.11
Hamish had been up and down all night, vomitting profusely. Poor kid was quite unwell and away from home, in a tiny cabin full of people.
We were all quite tired after the last couple of day's adventures, so it didn't worry us too much that we had to sit around all morning. We kept thinking he might start to feel better and we might get out to use the second day of our hopon hop off bus tour to go to Montmartre/Eiffel Tower, but despite a brief interlude where he did look a bit better there was not a lot of improvement.
The pharmacy up at Suresnes was closed (Bill, Hannah and I had walked up in the morning) and we had been trying to interest him in other options - lemonade, peppermints, dry crackers etc to no avail. By mid afternoon we thought that, as Michael and Shelly were to travel the next day we should try to source a doctor 'for a jab of Stemtil or similar'.
Campground contacted local hospital who suggested we come up, so I went along with Michael, Shelly and Hamish to act as translator should it be necessary. Oh my goodness, did I have to try to step up my French communication a peg or two, because not too many people spoke English!
Although the local hospital looked quite run down (they don't turn on lights in corridors, toilets etc unless you are using this area and there is no air conditioning), the actual medical attention was excellent. We were slightly amazed at Hamish being given a baby's bottle on arrival - complete with medicine (probably electrolytes I think). When I went in search of a 'sac pour vomit', I was given a 'haricot' (bean shaped bowl) made of paper mache. The wee bottle was also made of paper mache, so I guess must be emptied quite quickly!
Hamish had really picked up, so we all thought it was just a formality when they suggested a scan for appendicitis. The shock when the verdict of appendicitis, surgery and movement to another hospital was given a few minutes later amazed us all.
Meanwhile Bill and Hannah were patiently waiting at home for news, and were also quite distressed when the news came to them. No doubt the feeling of powerlessness in this situation was quite daunting.
The hospital organised us a taxi transfer to a children's hospital on the other side of Paris (Amand Trousseau) and on arrival the theatre was already prepared. I stayed to do some admin, while Michael and Shelly went straight in with Hamish. Within about 30 mins we were on our way up to theatre, where the staff were fantastic. The highlight was probably Pasqual, the anaesthesist who spoke no English but had us all laughing heartily at his antics. Totally broke us the stressful moment!
Just as he was about to go into theatre, one of the theatre nurses mistakenly told another (in French) that Michael was Hamish's 'grand-pere'. When I corrected them, Hamish thought this the funniest thing - so was wheeled off into theatre with a big smile on his face, calling Michael 'Pop'!
Michael, Shelly and I anxiously waited the next couple of hours, until eventually we were called back up into recovery, where Hamish was slowly coming out of anaesthetic. All went well. No peritonitis or complications, so a huge relief.
A bed in the room was available for Shelly and the hospital did organise two other beds in the adjacent ward for Michael and I, but we needed to get back to the campsite. Eventually we got the security guard on the hospital gate to ring us a taxi, as in the early hours of the morning they were not a common commodity.
Throughout this day we found that Parisians, although many spoke little English, were willing to go out of their way to help us and seemed to accept it as just a normal thing to do. All in all, we were quite impressed.
Sometime around 3am, Michael and I fell into bed.
Michael later realised that this had been a French Father’s Day present from Hamish!
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