Solo Traveling

Date:: November 9, 2023

I arrived in Lyon early in the morning after two flights, one from Toronto to Munich and another from Munich to Lyon. Taking the train into the city was straightforward, and finding my apartment was a breeze thanks to Google Maps, though I did have a slight hiccup with the entry codes. Nevertheless, I dropped my bags and headed out to catch the Lyon marathon, just a block away. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to watch the locals in action.

After enjoying the marathon, I felt the need for a shower. I made a quick stop at Carrefour Express for some groceries and then returned to my apartment to freshen up for the day, setting the stage for an unexpected adventure.

My apartment was in an ancient building with a quaint, tiny elevator running up a spiral staircase that was exposed to the elements. On my way out, I took the stairs, and the natural light helped me navigate every step. However, at the bottom, the absence of light caught me off guard, and I nearly stumbled over the last two steps.

Lying on the dark floor with no one around, I decided it was best to take the elevator back up to my apartment before making any decisions.

By the time I got back, my ankle had started to swell. I followed the RICE protocol – rest, ice, and elevation, although I skipped compression. Thankfully, I had a brace that not only allowed me to walk without pain but also concealed the swelling.

Recognizing that my injury didn’t require a hospital visit, I decided to explore the French healthcare system. The next morning, I booked an Uber for a short ride to the nearest open pharmacy, just five blocks away. The pharmacist was incredibly helpful, providing me with a gel equivalent to ibuprofen and scheduling an appointment with a sports medicine doctor for that afternoon.

I hobbled back to my apartment to continue icing and elevating my ankle while I waited for the doctor’s appointment.

The doctor’s office was conveniently close by, so I managed to walk there. Finding my way into the building was a bit perplexing, but a resident kindly let me in. In the sparsely furnished waiting room, I sat down and waited (I had arrived early). Eventually, the doctor welcomed me into his office. I’m proud to say that I conveyed my medical history in French, and my French was better than his English, except when it came to medical terms. He diagnosed my injury as a sprain, ruled out any fractures, and recommended the RICE protocol along with the anti-inflammatory gel I had received earlier. Surprisingly, he also prescribed a specific splint and arnica homeopathic medicine.

I returned to the pharmacy to pick up the prescribed items and then headed home for more RICE. All my receipts are now ready for submission to my insurance.

My Lyon experience turned out quite differently from what I had anticipated, but it became an adventure in itself. I got to learn about the French medical system, had a glimpse of French television culture, and indulged in a bit of “Rear Window” people-watching from my apartment. It might not have been as eventful as the movie, but I made the most of the situation.