I think I've had writer’s block for the past 90 days. I've been trying to figure out how to tell this story:
I went to Bratislava the end of November to attend an evening with the makers of Joseph Perrier Champagne.
It was a tasting event for both bubbly and food.
They even ended the evening with a kind of Champagne Cognac.
I have the menu somewhere.
I sat with a local journalist and a local wine wholesaler, both friends of Ratislav Šutak, Slovakia’s premier Sommelier and Sommelier for Kempinski River Park Hotel. I think I'm a friend of his too.
The “old guy” – that is to say, the owner and great (great?) grandson of the original Joseph Perrier was on hand to entertain us with his beautiful French accent and his knowledge about classic Champagnes.
If The Boy were writing this post, he would be compelled to become a pedant now, and tell you that Champagne can only be called Champagne if it is made in the Champagne province of France, the area surrounding Rheims. My brother John, who has visited Rheims and its Champagne cellars, will tell you exactly how to pronounce Rheims; and it doesn't rhyme with reams.
I, however, try very hard to rein in my pedantic tendencies, so you can go look up this stuff yourself.
Now where was I?
Oh yeah – Bratislava after a very nice evening of wining and dining with B’lava’s elite.
Then onto the train home in the morning.
All went well until the train stopped at Žiar nad Hronom where Scott was waiting to drive me home. The guy behind me, waiting to climb down the steep staircase-cum-ladder on these Slovak trains, said something to me. I turned and saw he had picked up my overnight bag. I think he just wanted to help. I turned my attention away from safely getting off the train and stumbled off the last rung, which put me on the back foot (I can say that ‘literally’) so that I fell into the adjacent rail bed (out here in the sticks there’s no such thing as a disabled-friendly platform). I knew the moment I went down on the ball of my foot that something was very wrong: the pain went right up through my calf to the back of my knee.
Scott was suddenly there and he helped me hobble to the car. He was a crutch (another ‘literal’ use) since I could put no weight on my left foot.
There was a really pretty bruise all around my ankle and onto my foot. The swelling made it even prettier.
Are you cringing yet?
I thought I’d give it a week before going into the doctor.
I needn't have bothered: my general practitioner took one look and sent me to the clinic ‘surgeon’ who was a wet-behind-the-ears, fresh-out-of-med-school twit who sent me to have an X-ray.
Now here is where I need to share a little home truth about socialised medicine (I’m using the British spelling because the U.S. does not have socialized medicine. It doesn't feel right to use the American spelling).
Here in this poor-ish nation of Slovakia, all healthcare is paid for by the citizens through their monthly national health insurance contributions. Everybody has to have insurance, by law. Because everyone must pay, it has to be cheap. We pay ours. It’s about US $125 a month.
For the both of us.
And because it's so cheap, there isn't a lot of money to pay for everything.
Doctors’ offices are crammed. Hospitals are too. That's why I had to bring my own glass, thermometer, silverware, toilet paper etc etc when I was in hospital a year or so ago.
See how I digress!
Back to the ancient X-ray equipment in our local hospital. I happen to know for a fact that the local vet has better quality X-ray equipment. My pathetic X-ray showed absolutely nothing the young twit doctor could use. He therefore told me I needed a sonogram and gave me a prescription for a pair of crutches (those were on loan for 95 Euro cents) because I was to keep all weight off of that ankle.
He also informed me that the doctor running the sonogram was not in today. I would have to come back tomorrow. And oh, the twit doctor’s office would be closed tomorrow.
This is all because the money collected from everyone for national insurance simply isn’t enough to staff things properly.
I dutifully tried to use the crutches. Honest. Trying to use crutches on our gravel walkway is more dangerous than you think. So is trying to use them on the walkways around the hospital, which are very slippery when wet. So I fell back onto my cane (not ‘literally’).
You know, that wonderful cane I bought in Krakow Poland as a house decoration:
It actually works very nicely as a cane. (yes it's hand-carved and that is a wild boar head and a mining axe handle)
I go back the next day to get the sonogram and we are told that the doctor who runs the sonogram is out of the office and the sonogram office closed until after the New Year.
If I want a sonogram before then, I must drive 45 minutes to Žiar nad Hronom to their hospital, where they will immediately conduct surgery on my ankle if the sonogram warrants it.
Well fuck that.
I went home with a really good ankle bandage made especially for Achilles tendon issues (yes it was confirmed I had a tiny rupture in my Achilles tendon) and some pretty good goo to slather on the ankle that helped with both the swelling and the pain.
A month later, I went back to the local hospital and got the sonogram and saw an older and wiser surgeon who said, “Well it’s healing. Now go get some physiotherapy and come back in another month.”
My friend Silvia, by the way (teacher, interpreter and all-round wonderful human being) was with me at every step during this time. She led me downstairs to where the physiotherapist was located.
Guess what? Office closed till Friday.
You see a pattern here?
After returning another day and finding out it could be upwards of a four-plus hour wait, I once again say, fuck that.
There’s this really nice masseuse in town who specializes in sports injuries.
I've been seeing her at least once a week now for the past month. I’m supposed to go back to the older and wiser surgeon for my check-up today but I’m going to wait another week.
Anyway – the Champagne was almost worth it and I was even able to buy three bottles of my favorite for next to nothing.
I’m going back in a few weeks to have some more.
But I’m driving this time.