Where I fork for half a second and then finally... No...
Monday morning, the Judge, his bag and his bezeluh
Take the RER to get to the emergencieuh.
Since the weather was nice, leaving the subway
He dragged his feet a bit before buying sooooome coooookiiiiiiiiiies (slow down a little on the last line)
For those who know Paris, I get off at St Jacques station (because St Michel station is closed until April 2023, there's no way I can make the whole journey on the RER (C then B)) and I think to myself that I'd better get some food as I'm not sure what's coming next and how long it's gonna last. A very healthy hunch, as we shall see. Here I am in my favorite area of the 5th, 6th, 13th and 14th districts, the real Paris, its heart (the right bank is already the suburbs), the area where I grew up, where I always felt at home until Hidalgo drove us out of the city. If I'd known, I wouldn't have voted... I follow Rue des Fossés Saint-Jacques, every crossroads, every block of houses, brings back a memory, a person I knew, it's very pleasant, so I stroll around a bit, after all, I'm not in such a hurry... Am I ?
Urgent, na na na na na na na na, Urgent!
I arrive calmly at the Cochin emergency room and there I wait... Again... Forever... Like in Étampes... More comfortable though... I'm not in pain, I have my computer with which I can continue to work (we've really adapted well since the lockdown, haven't we?) and I have something to nibble on. Everything's fine.
The questionnaire marathon begins again, tirelessly: on admission, before the examination, during, etc. After a while, the decision expected by my four skier advisors is made: they're going to scan my face. Makes sense. The scanner is cool: they give you an injection to increase the contrast of the final images, which makes you feel warm inside, first in the throat, then in the lower abdomen, which I like. A little warmth in this cruel world. They do advise you to drink quite a bit afterwards to get rid of the product. Uh... okay then...
I go back to an emergency examination room to... wait... Vichy tablets... wait... Figolus cookies... wait... then the doctor and nurse who took care of me come in with a “concerned” look on their faces:
— We have discovered lesions on your brain, so you will need to undergo further examinations and I am going to admit you into hospital.
— Lesions ?
— Masses if you prefer... In fact, there are two possibilities in these cases: infection or metastases
— Ah...
— But let's say it was an infection, you would be completely out of action, unable to stand up...
And then I say to myself out loud:
— “Okay, but if they're metastases, there's not much that can be done…”
— There's always something to do, lots of things to try. There are many different treatments.
Caps and compass
And, quite honestly, during the few milliseconds between my sentence and her response, I had already switched. It's amazing how fast the whole thing happened. It was like being a ship's captain who has no choice but to set a new course because there's an iceberg ahead! No sadness, no bitterness, no anxiety, just the acceptance of a new reality that will involve new decisions. Fortunately, the doctor's response rescued me, brought me back from the doomed, and I immediately corrected the course again. For a fraction of a second, I was a different person, promised to a different destiny, with a glimpse of other goals.
In these circumstances, you realize how much time is sometimes spent agonizing over minor decisions, assessing the risks, weighing the pros and cons a hundred times over, putting off the moment from day to day, and how we are also capable of reacting at the drop of a hat to much more decisive things. You understand how certain shifts of position can impose themselves in a flash, as if they were self-evident.
