Distraction

I needed to get out and distract myself from what was going on with my shoulders.
Having endured a shoulder joint infiltration with no local anaesthesia I was feeling miserable. My medical experiences in France always seem to be more brutal and less efficient than experiences in NZ. I seem to be a magnet for differences.



Back in 2003 when I had a frozen shoulder the sports doctor sorted that out with the cortisol within a few weeks. He gave me a local and voilà, it was tolerable. He was precise and he didn't need a specialist or to do it under Xray to get it right. I popped off to physio and this debilitating and lengthy malady got nipped in the bud. I didn't get full use of my arm for a year but I could live comfortably in the meantime.



Here in France it has taken 2 GPs a specialist, an argument over diagnosis, 2 different technicians and a torturous 7 months. Things are still not good.

Friday's infiltration was highly unpleasant, especially when the needle and it's products were pushed, twice into the tough shoulder joint capsule. Luckily for me Jean-Claude was on hand to take me back to rest at his place. I was given no pain relief or a sling for my arm. The pain became absolutely awful for the entire weekend so I was unable to attend my long-panned visit to the Paris Book Fair. I'm left with business cards but no contacts for my new book. It just wasn't to be.





By Sunday I needed to do something to distract myself from the pain. JC and I drove to Chartres to see an antiques fair there. I'd been to one two years ago but hadn't had my camera with me that time. I thought I'd show you some examples of French furniture and collectables.












A beautiful desk full of inlays caught my eye. An ancient armoire caught JC's eye. We didn't buy anything (I can't afford things like that right now) but it was fun looking and wouldn't you know it.... in the annex was a chocolate expo.








No wonder people were still queuing to get in 2 hours before the expo closed. The French are artists with food. It was much too yummy looking and I had to help the chocolate addict accompanying me to keep his wallet in his jacket or he'd have scoffed a dozen huge 'nipples of venus'-like things. A man was struggling to cut an enormous gourmet cheese, ladies were touting the delights of olives.

It was good to get out and see some of the interesting things France has to offer such as antiques and food - the like of which you'll never find in NZ.