Sandwich de Thon

After practically eating nothing for 10 days straight during the dreaded gastro, this tuna sandwich from Huré was THE BEST THING EVER.

I could never do Survivor. 

Bringing in 2013 in Style

Leave it to me to bring in 2013 with the dreaded gastro.  It all started at the belle-famille's house in Toulouse, where Copain and I celebrated Noël. I thought I was going to be okay until BAM! Sunday morning  - GASTRO ATTACK!

Monday, AKA, New Year's was just depressing:

Dinner of champions.

2013 on the taupe couch.

I've been dealing with it ever since. This is my second day off of work (I tried to go back for two days, thinking I was better, but au contraire mon frère.) I've still got it good.

Since this will be my fifth full on day with... ahem, problems, I figured I'd better call a doctor (I was experiencing symptoms of dehydration - yuck).  At around 8:45 this morning I called the French SOS medecins and explained my symptoms. The woman on the phone listened to the issue, told me that I definitely needed to see a doctor if I was 5 days in, took down my address and told me that one was on the way.

Not even 30 minutes later, Dr SOS was knocking on my front door. Now I've made calls to SOS medecins before - but never for myself - always for other people. Sometimes you wait an hour, sometimes you wait 8 hours, depending on how busy they are and the level of urgency of your illness. I have to say, I was super impressed with the service. 

Yeah, Dr SOS smelled of cigarettes and it was the weirdest thing ever to be examined on the taupe couch in my living room - don't mind the drying laundry! - but it was awesome not to have to leave my house with the gastro (impossible!) and the visit cost me 50 euros (which I'll be reimbursed for by my health insurance). Yay for France and their resistance to change - otherwise this whole house call thing probably wouldn't exist. (ps - why don't they have this in the states??!)

I got a prescription for a three-day treatment (there goes another weekend!) and a doctor's note for work if needed. Voilà. Merci SOS.

Since my pharmacy is at the end of the street, I crossed my fingers for no gastro within the next 10 minutes, ran downstairs, got my free medicine and felt good enough to stop for chicken soup ingredients and ginger ale at the market next door. 

I'm about 5 pills and two bowls of chicken soup in, but still no improvements yet. I'm starting to get annoyed and feel trapped in my teeny Parisian apartment! 

Vive le gastro en 2013 - hopefully this less-than-amazing beginning to the year has nothing to do with what the rest of 2013 holds in store... 

Malade

The plethora of viruses running about Paris has finally caught up with me - bah oui, je suis malade. 

Maybe it was the one time I took the metro last week, maybe it was when I kept closing the restaurant door to keep out the cold at brunch, maybe it was the brunch! (cough, cough, sneeze - gross!)  Whatever, wherever, it hit me yesterday - at work. super nul. 

It's a lovely little maladie that keeps you at home - lest you want to share in the pleasure of running to the bathroom every five seconds with your colleagues - it's what the French call...Le Gastro.

Ah, the almighty gastro - spreading around Parisians on shared metro poles, Velibs handles, through airborne bits of nasty - mutating into various strains that have actually KILLED two children this year.  The gastro is not to be messed with; it disrupts your entire intestinal tract and basically works to clear you of anything and everything in your system, by whatever means necessary (I'll let you extrapolate on that - you know, in your head).

If I'd had a thermometer at work yesterday, I surely would have taken my temperature, seen that I had a fever, and hit the road. But I didn't notice my flushed face until the end of the day - the cherry on top of my aches, pains, and complete lack of appetite. 

Thankfully, I don't think I have the killer gastro, just a mild one (nothing like poor Copain's bout back in November). But still, this little dirt-bag has kept me home from work today, in bed until 12pm with wonky sick dreams...

Dude.

Strasbourg - Capitale de Noël

I've got Christmas fever. All I want to do is watch Elf, make gingerbread and listen to Christmas tunes. It probably helps that it's raining outside and I hate walking in the rain. Plus, all the lights are up in Paris now and the place near our apartment is sporting a lovely decorated Christmas tree. Perfect combo for a holiday home extravaganza n'est pas?

It all started with our trip to Strasbourg - the self-declared "Capitale de Noël".  As you know, we almost cancelled our weekend getaway because Copain was hit with the dreaded gastro the Thursday before we were supposed to leave. He decided that he wanted to power through (I'd like to think it's because it was our 7 year anniversary gift and that's how much he loves me, but it was probably because it was too late to cancel the hotel and the thought of giving away 100 euros was slowly killing him - even more than the gastro). 

We got up bright and early on Saturday morning to catch our train at the Gare de l'Est. Copain was moving verrrrry slowly, so I planned an hour to get to the station despite the fact that we live 15 minutes away, with metro connections. This was good planning on my part because feeling nauseous and smelly metro travel do not mix. We got to the Gare with plenty of time to do some magazine perusing, and I indulged in a second cup of coffee for the road. 

Homemade muffin, coffee, discount card for the under 30! Merci SNCF!

Copain - Monsieur Malade

Copain is malade. Super malade. Like had-to-come-home-from-work-and-has-been-on-the-couch-for-two-days malade.

What's worse: we have plans to go to Strasbourg for the Marché de Noël this weekend. Our train tickets are for tomorrow morning.

I asked him if he wanted to cancel, but he tells me that this bug he has should only last 24 hours.  It's what the doctor said when she came to our house yesterday - right after he heaved his guts up all over Paris on his way home from work.  Good times.