As it turns out, I believe that my doctor from the American Hospital was in fact a doctor of debauchery, and not of doting grandfatherly-ness. I think this because after that whole back-patting "I'm-going-to-take-care-of-you-missy-don't-you-worry" nonsense, I haven't heard another word from him. To be more precise, he ordered blood tests and a throat culture, whose results were sent to me by mail. He had instructed me to call him two days after the tests were completed to get my results (and their interpretation) directly from him. Although I called his office as told, I was not able to talk to him. Instead his secretary took two messages, on two separate occasions, assuring me that he would call me back. But no! Nothing! I called again a third time after receiving my test results by mail, because I couldn't decipher them. Once again, he was unable to speak to me, but would I like to leave a message? No thank you, I would not. I've been assured by my two unanswered messages for the Doctor that my calls will not be returned. Could you, Madame the Secretary, give me any indications as to how to read these results? But of course not! You would have to speak to the doctor. Yes, I said, I would have liked that.
And so that was that. Happily, though, I seem to be better now, with the help of my mom who has come to take care of me.
I have some more pictures to post of me traipsing about the city (which I will do tomorrow perhaps), and will have a pastry update for the day after tomorrow. We will be making a very "fancy" pear tart : ) I can't wait! I wish you were all here to eat it. In the meantime, I've included above a photo of my apartment.
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