The Mole

"What's that?!" asked the H with alarm, pointing to a small brown spot on the back of my left hand. "That is called a beauty mark. Or a mole. Whatever," I'd said unconcerned. "Whoa, it's totally sketch. It's like, a weird shape and everything," he said. "You should get it examined. Maybe when you get back to New York this weekend you can make an appointment." "But it will cost a zillion dollars because I don't have health insurance in the US right now," I'd protested. "Ah," said the H. "Perhaps you should make an appointment this week before you leave with a dermatologist." "But I don't know any dermatologist!" I'd responded.

Turns out I did know one. I'd saved the info from back when I was a student in Paris and I had gone to see a dermatologist. So I'd called her up and made an appointment for Tuesday at 9.

The thing is, I've always found French doctors' offices to be no-frills compared to the New York doctors. The NY doctors all have very fancy offices and everything is computerized. There is always a nurse who handles all the basics before turning you over to the doctor. But here in France, everything is still done old-school - charts are written by hand, and a lot of doctors still use those old school wood file cabinets to keep their charts. Also, oftentimes there is no nurse.

The French dermatologist was no exception. She asked me my maiden name and proceeded to thumb through some wooden file cabinet that must have been built in the 40's, and pulled out a teeny index card with what was apparently all my information. She then proceeded to do a complete examination and concluded it would be best to remove the sketchy mole. Except she wanted to send me to some plastic surgeon to get it done. "But can't you do it yourself?" I'd asked. As a matter of fact, I had had the procedure done a few times before when I was in NY. It was a very quick in-office procedure - usually the dermatologist would remove the offending mole right then and there in a matter of minutes. It was all very efficient. But no, not in France!

"Hmmm, well, I guess I could do it myself. Because you see, the surgeon charges 400 euros, 60 euros of which are reimbursed by the sécu. So I guess I could do it myself, seeing as the surgeon won't be able to fit you in this week, since you are leaving on Saturday. Okay, well, why don't you come back on Thursday?" babbled the dermatologist. "Why do I have to come back on Thursday? Why can't you do it now? It takes like, 2 minutes," I said. This prompted the dermatologist to take out all her supplies and show me how she would be doing the procedure. "See," she said, showing me a scalpel, "I use this to remove the mole. Then I put it in this little jar. And then I send it to the laboratory to have a biopsy done." "What?" I asked, thoroughly confused. "Now, that will be 65 euros for the visit, and I will squeeze you in at 5:30 pm on Thursday," she said.

So this afternoon I headed back and she fussed around, setting up her equipment. She proceeded to cover me with a napkin/sheet thingy and then set up her tools on my stomach. "So, I will give you some anesthesia, and then I will remove the mole," she said, smiling. "Hmmmm," she said to herself, "now, what is the best way to go about this? I could cut it this way, or else I could cut it this way..." This went on for an agonizing 10 minutes, with me biting my lip to keep from hollering "JUST CUT THE BLOODY THING OUT NOW! I HAVE A DINNER PARTY TONIGHT AND I HAVE TO GO TO THE SUPERMARKET!" She FINALLY got down to work and then decided to give me stitches, and then informed me how to take out my stitches myself (?!). "Ah, yes," she said, flustering about, "and I will give you a prescription for an antibiotic cream. To put over the scar. You can use it with the stitches in." "Um, actually, I think I have everything I need because I had a skin biopsy done in NY not that long ago and I had to have stitches too," I said. "Hmmm," the dermatologist frowned. "Well, to be safe, I think you should buy the cream here. I mean, I really don't think they will have this cream in the US," she clucked.

It took another 10 minutes for her to clean up and fill out the paperwork, and then she had me write a check not only for the visit, but for the laboratory as well. She told me to put the lab check into the envelope, which I did. She then sealed the envelope containing the check plus my mole in a jar and told me "so, you should send this off via the post office. Get a "lettre recommandé". So you have proof in case they lose it. You know the French post office. Not very efficient. You should go tomorrow, but you can go tonight, if you are not too traumatized. Goodbye." I stood there for a second holding the envelope, as it was the first time in my life a doctor had told ME to mail off my own samples to the lab.

I then headed over to Inno to get groceries for the dinner tonight. H and I decided it would be best to serve mussels, so I went to the poissonier and asked for 3 packets of mussels. The girl sighed, grabbed three packets, then asked me, "Oh, could you please prepare the bags for me?" "Say what?" I asked, surprised. "You know," she said, looking at me like I was stupid. "Grab one of the plastic bags there for me." (I should point out that this is not common practice; usually the poissonier will prepare your packages for you, and it was the first time someone asked me to prepare my own package at the supermarket. It would be like if you ordered some beef from Whole Foods and they asked you to rip off the butcher paper and wrap it up yourself). "Um....okay...." I said, baffled, and ripped off a plastic bag and handed it to her, after making a big spectacle of putting down my shopping basket. "No!" she screeched, rolling her eyes. "You have to open the bag for me!" It was all very surreal, and I wanted to shout at her, "Hey, lady! You're the freaking poissonière! YOU do it!" But alas, some guy who was apparently also a poissonier came up and printed out the stickers and stuck the onto the bags for me, while he and the girl proceeded to have an argument over how best to package up mussels.

All in all, a very strange day. Anyway, must go and prepare mussels now.