French Luser News - CP/M

This is a discussion on French Luser News - CP/M ; AROBASE.TXT ----------- Well... In France, we have a saying ("Les gens heureux n'ont pas d'histoires.") whose equivalent in English I could not find in my dictionaries. Grosso modo, it means: "Happy people have such an uneventful life that you cannot ...

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  1. French Luser News

    AROBASE.TXT
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    Well... In France, we have a saying ("Les gens heureux n'ont pas
    d'histoires.") whose equivalent in English I could not find in
    my dictionaries. Grosso modo, it means: "Happy people have such
    an uneventful life that you cannot find any trouble to record in
    history books." Unfortunately, me it is the reverse: So many
    things happened since the 5th of December 2006 (2 months ago),
    when I was knocked out by a car at a roundabout, that I think I
    would not be able to record them all, except if I was writing a
    book. As I am not a novelist, but a programmer, I will stick to
    my usual way of reporting things.

    Ok. So, I was hit on my right side by a car. I could not walk:
    every time I tried to stand on my right foot, it was "jerking"
    wildly from left to right and reverse: I could not control it.
    By hopping, I managed to reach the pavement. I stayed there
    while the driver parked his car. He told me: "I did not see
    you." I answered: "I am afraid that it is serious. I am a
    former Boy-Scout, and never experienced such a problem with my
    foot." A company car arrived about one minute later (despite the
    early time, we were alone, him and I), and asked if he could do
    anything. I told him to keep moving, since he was driving a
    company car.

    A women arrived on the scene: she had a mobile phone, so she
    called the french emergency number. A few minutes later, the
    Firemen and the Police came. They took my name and address,
    then the Firemen drove me to the Emergency section of the
    Hospital. During the travel, one fireman asked me to remove my
    right shoe and examined my ankle. At the Emergency section of
    the Hospital, I was put on a stretcher, and 3 nurses escorted me
    to a room, took my name, then left me. So, I waited. And I
    waited. And I waited. And I waited. All this time facing a
    white wall.

    Finally, a doctor arrived. He examined me and found that I had
    symptoms at the shoulder and the foot. So, he asked that I be
    X-rayed. An operator came and drove me to the X-ray room of the
    Emergency section, then carried me back to the room. I waited.
    And I waited. And I waited. Still facing this white wall.
    Finally, the doctor came back, and he was not pleased with the
    X-ray picture of my shoulder (regarding the foot X-ray, he told
    me that it was not broken, that I probably had a sprained
    ankle). So, another nurse came, and drove me to the X-ray room
    of the Hospital. There, they took some more pictures, then
    another nurse brought me back to the room of the Emergency
    section. And I waited. And I waited. Still facing this white
    wall. Finally, the doctor came back, and told me that the top of
    my shoulder, where are fixed the muscles of the arm, had broken.
    He told me not to move my arm during one month, signed some
    paper, then left. So, I waited. And I waited. And I waited...
    Guess what? Still facing this white wall...

    I heard some noise in the corridor: it seemed like a change of
    personel. A male nurse passed in the corridor, so I told him:
    "When am I leaving?" He came back and asked the telephone number
    of my family. Since my nearest family members are 350
    kilometres away, I gave him the phone number of my neighbour.
    After a while, he came back with a mobile phone. I explained to
    my neighbour that I was at the Emergency section of the
    Hospital and asked him to come and bring me back home. He told
    me: "There is mist. I am going to be ill." (He is 75-years
    old, and "he has a weak chest".) I knew that, not far from the
    Emergency entrance of the Hospital, there is a bus stop. So, I
    explained that I was going to wait for my neighbour outside and,
    instead, walked to the bus stop. It is when walking past the
    entrance that I finally saw a clock, which informed me that I
    had waited 4 hours..., and a loo where I could finally "relieve
    myself". I was determined not to come back to the Hospital.
    Until then, I had a very active life (in fact, this morning, I
    was on my way (the accident arrived about 200 meters from my
    destination) to a project that I hope will improve my situation.

    So, I was at the bus stop in a city (30,000 inhabitants) in the
    countryside of France. First problem: the timetable at the bus
    stop informed me that a bus had just passed, 5 minutes
    earlier... Second problem: the second one was... two hours
    later! (There are only 6 round-way trips per day on this line.)
    So, I waited. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. It was
    the 5th of December: the temperature cannot be described as
    "tropical". The news had announced a storm, and winds and clouds
    were increasing. Finally, I saw a bus (several others bus lines
    lines pass in front of this bus stop). I jumped on my valid
    foot, moved to the side of the pavement, made big gestures with
    my remaining arm... and the bus driver was looking something on
    the other side of the street, and the bus continued his way...

    It is then that I made my first error: I was so furious that I
    decided to "walk" to the next bus stop, thinking (erroneously)
    that the bus would come back from a loop. At each step, the pain
    was increasing. When I finally managed to reach the next bus
    stop, it was to discover that it belonged to another bus line,
    so my move had been in vain. And my foot was so painful by then
    that it was obvious that I could never go back to the Hospital.
    ****!

    Here, I must explain that, normally, I live with very, very few
    money. However, the 5th December was a Tuesday and, each Monday,
    I take 20 Euros from my post bank account, and do my shopping
    for the whole week. That particular Monday, I had bought very
    few things, so I had a little bit more than 15 Euros remaining
    in my pocket (and enough food for a week at home).

    This bus stop was about 50 meters from a small supermarket where
    I sometimes bought things (it is on my way to the cybercafe).
    So, I went with great pains there, and asked one check-out
    assistant that I had seen several times to ask a taxi for me.
    After a few minutes during which I endured some pains in my
    foot, she told me that she had finally managed to reach the taxi
    station, and that a taxi was on the way. I thanked her, then
    went to wait the taxi near the entrance of the little
    supermarket.

    After a few minutes, the taxi arrived, I told him the
    destination, and he left me at my neighbour's home (cost: more
    than 12 Euros for 6 kilometers). I went to talk with him and
    his wife. I asked him if he could accomodate me during 2 or 3
    weeks, until Christmas, when I would leave the city to meet my
    family. Unfortunately, he told me that they had built this
    house for their retirement only, and had not planned any room
    for their children. So, I was obliged to go back home. Seeing
    my ankle, my neighbour (who had never experienced something like
    that, despite having worked as a masson during 50 years) drove
    me to my house, rather than let me walk back home.

    The storm was arriving, so I went straight to my bed, and passed
    the evening wondering what to do: I could not use my left arm or
    hand, so could not drive a car or a bike, or a moped or a
    bicycle. I could not walk. I knew nobody unemployed that could
    help me. There is a 15% unemployment rate in the area. The
    happy few people that have a job here are so terrified of losing
    it that nobody I know would take the risk of losing it just to
    help me during the next weeks. I spent my worst night. The pain
    in my foot was preventing me from sleeping: every move, just the
    weight of the sheet, was painful. I was sweating from pain in
    my bed, when it was freezing outside. It is then that I made my
    second error: I should have decided to phone the remaining
    living persons of my family, explained my situation, and asked
    them to spend the next weeks recovering in their homes. Instead,
    I decided not to move, to stay at home until the Christmas
    family meeting. The problem was what to do, and how to feed,
    during those next 3 weeks.

    The next day (Wednesday), the storm had cleared the sky. At the
    beginning of the afternoon, I came back, painful step by step,
    to my neighbour, and phoned an Association of unemployed people.
    I asked them someone to move me to the various administrations
    that cater to me, to warn them of my situation (I don't have a
    phone at home, the mobile phone I had was no longer working, so
    the only way to reach the outside world was to go to my
    neighbour). I then spent about one hour at my neighbour's home,
    while he had his usual nap. When he awoke, I phoned again the
    Association, and was told that my demand was unusual, that they
    have dozens of unemployed people in their city, but that few of
    them were rich enough to have a car. So, I told her that, if she
    managed to find me a driver, I was going back to my home. I
    waited until the sunset, then went back to my bed.

    The next day (Thursday), I went to the only company in my street
    (at the outskirt of my 7,000 inhabitants village): a
    coachbuilder (car body shop). There is a 4x3 meters billboard on
    the National road signaling this shop, so everybody knows where
    it is. I asked the shop owner, that I know, to call me a taxi,
    to go to the village center. It costed me 10 Euros for 1
    kilometers... (He was coming from the City 6 kilometers away.)
    I took some money at the post office, went to a Chemist to buy
    the sling and the aspirin (the only medicament that I took
    during all those days: the first night was a nightmare, after
    that the aspirin helped me to sleep) that the Emergency doctor
    had prescribed, then went to see the civil servant that takes
    care of me at the Mayor Hall: she was away, so I went to see
    another civil servant in another building depending upon the
    Mayor Hall of my city, asking her to warn my supervisor. It is
    then that I made my third error: I was less than one kilometer
    away from home, and there was a pedestrian path crossing a park
    going straight to my street... The sky was blue, I had nothing
    else to do, all the afternoon to pass, and the mere idea of
    paying 10 Euros (the salary of half a week) just to do 1
    kilometer was horrifying me. So, I went back home, step by
    step, on my foot.

    The next day (Friday) was probably my crasiest day... It was
    just above freezing temperature, but the sky was blue. I
    decided to go to an Association of unemployed people, which had
    very recently moved about 1 kilometer from my home. I had worked
    for them one year before, but had not gone to their new location
    (a big shed along the National road that has seen several
    companies over the years). I went there and talked with the
    authorities, but they told me that I was not fitting in any of
    their targets: their goal is to provide a job so that people can
    have some money and a job on their Curriculum Vitae, instead of
    a blank hole. Their job is not to help someone who suffered
    from a car accident. So, I left knowing that they could not help
    me. On my way back, I noticed a bus stop near the Supermarket. I
    went to it, and guessed that a bus had just left a few minutes
    away (I don't have a clock). Knowing that the bus does a big
    loop in my village before going back to the city, I decided to
    cut across the park (opposite the Supermarket) and go to another
    bus stop. After quite a walk (probably more than the kilometer I
    had already done to go to the Association), I finally arrived to
    the bus stop. No bus stop in sight. I was pretty tired by the
    time. Since I have no clock, I could not know when the next bus
    would come. So, I waited and waited in this icy wind, just
    after having sweated abundantly! Finally, one hour and half
    later, the next bus came, I went to the public library (and the
    cybercafe) of the next city, read the comp.os.cpm Newsgroup,
    then went back to wait for the next bus at the bus stop. I made
    another kilometer from the bus stop where I left the bus to my
    home (I took a timetable for this line when I left the bus).
    And I am not talking of the distance to/from the public library.
    When I think back to this day, I think that I was totally crazy!

    The following day (Saturday), I put the timetable of the bus
    stop near the Supermarket (I decided that it was the nearest one
    from my home, and a very big advantage was that I had not to
    cross the National road on my way to it, something that was
    almost impossible for me to do at rush hours) and a clock in my
    pocket, to have an idea of the time to go to/from a bus stop (I
    have been living without a wristwatch for more than 10 years
    now), then went to the public library.

    This was from the 5th to the 10th of December. The next week, I
    started a routine of spending the opening days at the public
    library (normally, I only go there for the cybercafe, to read
    the comp.os.cpm Newsgroup. I am the oldest regular of the
    cybercafe. I am at my 3rd manager, now. Everybody has changed
    (even the computers) except me.). During those long evenings, to
    spend the time, I re-read and proof-read my printed copies of
    the CP/M-86 Plus manuals. I was happy to find so few typos in
    them, and managed to "synchronize" them a little bit more, so
    they all say the same thing, now. Too bad the "CP/M-86 Plus OEM
    Distribution Disk" is missing... Since, without the source code
    files mentioned in the System Guide, it will be very difficult
    to recreate a 55KB SYS file.

    The following week, Christmas was approaching, so I decided to
    warn my sister that, this year, I would arrive by train. On the
    way from the terminal at the Supermarket of my village to the
    bus stop where I exited for the public library, the bus passes
    along the railway station. So, I carried a big bag full of
    clothes (my sister keep on bothering me that, since I live
    alone, I don't change clothes enough so, when I go to her home,
    I have made an habit of changing clothes every day, even if I do
    nothing (so cannot sweat) when I am in her home) to the bus
    stop, left at the train station, waited about one hour for the
    train, went to Bordeaux, waited another hour (this time in a
    waiting room), then took the train to her city, where she had
    the surprise of seeing me with my arm in a sling, and walking
    step by step.

    I spent the week prior to Christmas with them, then decided to
    remove my sling. I was fed up with it, after 3 weeks. I did the
    reverse trip as explained, with the exception that I went by
    foot from the train station to the public library (!) to read
    the comp.os.cpm Newsgroup, then came back home as usual, with
    just my big bag of clothes to carry in addition (of course, I
    was obliged to leave all my Christmas gifts in my sister's
    home).

    The New Year 2007 came. I was back alone in my home. I took an
    appointment with a specialist of the shoulder at the Hospital.
    One week later, he agreed that I could start, gradually, to do
    some work with my shoulder. I instantly went back to my garage,
    and removed a 35-years old moped ("Peugeot 103" -- 2 millions
    have been made: it is still being made today, but quite
    differently: many parts are no longer the same) that I had
    bought for a girl at University, after noticing that she was
    arriving sweating on a bicycle. I added a pair of huge black
    leather panniers and a pair of leg shields (I had the chance to
    find a pair with the same color as the frame of the moped),
    since she was a girl who was often wearing skirts. Of course,
    she had trouble managing it (or was too poor to pay the petrol),
    so gave it back to me. (She never explained me clearly the
    reason.) So, I used this moped during my last year at
    University, since I was living only one kilometer from the
    University. Also, no problem to park: I parked just in front of
    the University entrance, with the bicycles... After that, the
    logical thing would have been to sell it when I moved, but for
    some reason, I never resolved to sell it and, in fact, when I
    tried (4 times: I have now spent more advertising for it than
    its cost...) to sell it, nobody would buy it, thinking that it
    was too old. So, the only thing to do was to keep it, since it
    is impossible to buy a Scooter (the current fashion: moped are
    out-fashioned) for less than 1,000 Euros.

    So, I removed this old moped, put some "mix" (petrol + 2% of
    oil) in the tank then, using my left foot (since I could not use
    my right foot), holding it with my left hand, I tried to start
    the motor (the moped on its crutches: I had never started a
    moped on crutches before: only girls do that. I have always
    started my mopeds by pedaling them, since they are a mix of
    bicycles and motors: all the mopeds I have had could be used as
    a bicycle). After about 10 tries, the time that the petrol
    arrived in the engine, the engine started... I had finally a
    way of moving with one arm and half! After that, my life was
    revolutionized. I could finally move independently everywhere,
    at any time (not 6 times per day), and for half the price (per
    week) that bus was costing me (for only one trip per day).
    Instead of going from bus stop to bus stop, I was parking my
    moped on the pavement of the shop where I was going (without
    paying parkmeters like cars), doing my shopping, then leaving
    without loading/unloading a car. As long as you don't carry a
    lot of things, or it is not raining, mopeds are very, very
    convenient inside cities. Outside a village, like where I live,
    they are less at an advantage, except (of course) the price: no
    matter how the laws of physics will evolve, a moped will always
    be cheaper than a car. Every mechanics in France started with a
    moped before a car, so they all know how to repair them.
    Besides, mopeds are very simple, and incredibly reliable.
    Finally, I am glad to have keep it.

    (Upon re-reading the above, the only thing I see to add is: 1)
    during my first trial in the street, the tires were flat, so I
    re-inflated them with an air pump that I have (there are not
    much petrol stations in the countryside...), and 2) during the
    next weeks, I simply "forgot" to insure it, and kept using it
    without "insurance stamp" on it during 2 or 3 weeks. Nobody
    warned me that I was driving without this "insurance stamp",
    despite me parking my moped in front of the Police shop of my
    village when I was going to the Mayor Hall... I must have
    looked so old-fashioned (on the luggage carrier, there is a kind
    of clip that was used to bring bread home, when every family in
    France was eating its daily bread... I cannot remember seeing
    another moped with this kind of clip, which was common when I
    was young.) that people where thinking that I was driving a
    collector item! This moped is now back in my garage, and I have
    simply no idea when I will re-use it, but I am sure that I can
    count on it. I wonder if I will ever sell it, now. If I had
    needed to buy a Scooter in emergency (since it is impossible to
    rent one: they are the most often stolen goods in France), it
    would have costed me 1,000 Euros, and a few days to get it. Too
    bad insurance is so expensive now for two wheels: when I was
    younger, it was costing me 365 Francs (about 55 Euros) per year:
    cheaper than a baguette per day.)

    Life continued as usual, until Saturday the 5th of January 2007.
    That day, the last day of the week, I usually go and stay the
    whole day at the public library, taking this opportunity to go
    to the public swimming pool of the city at midday, when the
    public library closes. So, I stayed in my bed, waiting for the
    news. When they were finished, I dressed myself, then went to
    the entrance door. It is then that I heard a strange noise.
    Looking through the window, I saw that 2 big black dogs were
    running after my three ewes (that I use to clear my piece of
    land, since I don't like the noise of lawn mowers. I had had
    those ewes for 5 years now, feeding them during Winter, and
    giving them water during Summer). Upon seeing the size of the
    dogs, I decided to stay inside my home: they were already
    excited enough, without seeing me. They made 2 or 3 turns
    around my house, then I saw a man passing in front of the
    entrance, calling the dogs. They finally obeyed him, he catched
    them by their collars, then went back to the metal gate, slipped
    on the ice, opened the metal gate, went to his car to load his
    dogs, then came back to close the metal gate.

    I then exited the house, to see what had happened. The first
    ewe was near the sheep shelter, with one bleeding lip. The
    other two were in the corner opposite to my piece of land, about
    150 yards away. I walked carefully on the ice, crossing
    diagonally almost all my domain. The more I walked, the more
    blood I saw on the snow... When I finally reached the two ewes,
    they were in such a state of shock that I could have touched
    them: they were simply immobile, looking at me. The sight was
    horrible: the daughter was bleeding from a scar on her nose, on
    her neck, and on one of her legs, but her mother was disfigured.
    One of her ear had been torn off, her nose had been torn off and
    a part was hanging down... and her lips had been torn off,
    showing her teeths, and her chin had been torn off. I had not
    seen the details when walking on the ice, taking care not to
    hurt my foot but, when I stopped and I stand up again, to see
    how they were, I was in a state of shock, too. This ewe was my
    beautifullest ewe: everytime a peasant was seeing her, he
    commented how beautiful (big and white) she was. And now, she
    was covered from blood, and bleeding from her face on the snow
    and ice.

    I instantly understood that she would never recover from such a
    disfiguring: the only thing to do was to kill her as painlessly
    as possible. So, I went straight to the house of the owner of
    the 2 Rottweiler dogs, a new owner in my street. There were
    blood spots on the ice. After waiting a good minute at the gate,
    he finally exited his house and came to the gate. I told him
    that his dogs had attacked my sheep, and that one was so badly
    hurt that I had to kill her. He instantly replied that it was
    not his dogs...

    This happened 3 weeks ago: I won't detail everything that I did,
    but yesterday I lodged an official complaint to the High Court,
    asking that the owner be condemned to repay me all the costs
    involved (82 Euros to kill the ewe, 55 Euros for the knacker,
    and 150 Euros to buy another ewe), and to have the dogs
    euthanasied. (His dogs were on their way back home when they
    crossed my property, after killing a dozen of geeses and hens in
    the henhouse of one of my neighbours, and attacking the 5-years
    old daughter of another neighbour, who was, fortunately, outside
    her home when this happened: she managed to go back home
    unbitten, her and her daughter. After that, she witnessed the
    attack on my sheep.)

    Needless to say, during those 3 weeks, I had a very loaded
    schedule. I was also surprised that my foot was so painful,
    after one month and half. So, I was obliged to go back to my
    family doctor (now, there is a policy that only your family
    doctor can send you to a specialist), then to the specialist: 2
    more weeks. We were now 2 months after my car accident. He had
    me take another X-ray of my foot: upon seeing it, he asked me if
    the Emergency section had taken one. Upon my positive answer, he
    asked me to bring it. So, I came back the afternoon with it, he
    compared both and told me: "I have 2 news for you. The good one
    is that you will not limp all your life, but it will take time
    to walk normally again. The bad one is that, in fact, you had a
    broken Astragalus inside your sprained ankle. And, since you
    walked, the Astragalus knitted itself, but no longer has its
    natural shape: you will now have, until your death, a right
    ankle wider than the left one."

    Since then, one week ago, I can "walk" (or stay standing up on
    my feet) about half an hour per day: anytime I try (or am
    obliged) to do more, I end up with limping more and more, before
    going in pain to my bed. For me, who was a Boy-Scout, it is very
    painful not to be able to walk more than half an hour per day,
    since I was very active and live in the countryside alone, so
    must do everything myself. As a result, I could be obliged to
    move to another city, where I could find a job that I could do
    seated. (This kind of job simply don't exist in the countryside.
    In fact, during those recent years, with the economic crisis,
    the reverse is more and more common: you now need to know 2 or 3
    different jobs to be taken, and you spend half the day moving
    from one place to another.)

    Well, that's all, folks!

    Next time, I hope to talk about the various programming that I
    managed to do during those long evening nights.


    EOF


  2. Re: French Luser News


    "French Luser" wrote in message
    news:h56mt2h306bbp86psfqvkrqjqakbia3f57@4ax.com...
    > AROBASE.TXT
    > -----------
    >
    > Well... In France, we have a saying ("Les gens heureux n'ont



    I'm reading this now. It's quite moving actually.

    (((((((((hugs)))))))))



  3. Re: French Luser News

    "French Luser" wrote in message
    news:h56mt2h306bbp86psfqvkrqjqakbia3f57@4ax.com...
    > AROBASE.TXT
    > -----------
    >
    > Well... In France, we have a saying ("Les gens heureux n'ont


    Do you have a PayPal account, address etc?

    My email addy in on this site; www.logicsays.com/entry .

    Very best regards,

    Alison



  4. Re: French Luser News

    On Feb 20, 10:50 am, French Luser
    wrote:
    > AROBASE.TXT
    > -----------
    >
    > Well... In France, we have a saying ("Les gens heureux n'ont pas
    > d'histoires.") whose equivalent in English I could not find in
    > my dictionaries. Grosso modo, it means: "Happy people have such
    > an uneventful life that you cannot find any trouble to record in
    > history books." Unfortunately, me it is the reverse: So many
    > things happened since the 5th of December 2006 (2 months ago),
    > when I was knocked out by a car at a roundabout, that I think I
    > would not be able to record them all, except if I was writing a
    > book. As I am not a novelist, but a programmer, I will stick to
    > my usual way of reporting things.
    >
    > Ok. So, I was hit on my right side by a car. I could not walk:
    > every time I tried to stand on my right foot, it was "jerking"
    > wildly from left to right and reverse: I could not control it.
    > By hopping, I managed to reach the pavement. I stayed there
    > while the driver parked his car. He told me: "I did not see
    > you." I answered: "I am afraid that it is serious. I am a
    > former Boy-Scout, and never experienced such a problem with my
    > foot." A company car arrived about one minute later (despite the
    > early time, we were alone, him and I), and asked if he could do
    > anything. I told him to keep moving, since he was driving a
    > company car.
    >
    > A women arrived on the scene: she had a mobile phone, so she
    > called the french emergency number. A few minutes later, the
    > Firemen and the Police came. They took my name and address,
    > then the Firemen drove me to the Emergency section of the
    > Hospital. During the travel, one fireman asked me to remove my
    > right shoe and examined my ankle. At the Emergency section of
    > the Hospital, I was put on a stretcher, and 3 nurses escorted me
    > to a room, took my name, then left me. So, I waited. And I
    > waited. And I waited. And I waited. All this time facing a
    > white wall.
    >
    > Finally, a doctor arrived. He examined me and found that I had
    > symptoms at the shoulder and the foot. So, he asked that I be
    > X-rayed. An operator came and drove me to the X-ray room of the
    > Emergency section, then carried me back to the room. I waited.
    > And I waited. And I waited. Still facing this white wall.
    > Finally, the doctor came back, and he was not pleased with the
    > X-ray picture of my shoulder (regarding the foot X-ray, he told
    > me that it was not broken, that I probably had a sprained
    > ankle). So, another nurse came, and drove me to the X-ray room
    > of the Hospital. There, they took some more pictures, then
    > another nurse brought me back to the room of the Emergency
    > section. And I waited. And I waited. Still facing this white
    > wall. Finally, the doctor came back, and told me that the top of
    > my shoulder, where are fixed the muscles of the arm, had broken.
    > He told me not to move my arm during one month, signed some
    > paper, then left. So, I waited. And I waited. And I waited...
    > Guess what? Still facing this white wall...
    >
    > I heard some noise in the corridor: it seemed like a change of
    > personel. A male nurse passed in the corridor, so I told him:
    > "When am I leaving?" He came back and asked the telephone number
    > of my family. Since my nearest family members are 350
    > kilometres away, I gave him the phone number of my neighbour.
    > After a while, he came back with a mobile phone. I explained to
    > my neighbour that I was at the Emergency section of the
    > Hospital and asked him to come and bring me back home. He told
    > me: "There is mist. I am going to be ill." (He is 75-years
    > old, and "he has a weak chest".) I knew that, not far from the
    > Emergency entrance of the Hospital, there is a bus stop. So, I
    > explained that I was going to wait for my neighbour outside and,
    > instead, walked to the bus stop. It is when walking past the
    > entrance that I finally saw a clock, which informed me that I
    > had waited 4 hours..., and a loo where I could finally "relieve
    > myself". I was determined not to come back to the Hospital.
    > Until then, I had a very active life (in fact, this morning, I
    > was on my way (the accident arrived about 200 meters from my
    > destination) to a project that I hope will improve my situation.
    >
    > So, I was at the bus stop in a city (30,000 inhabitants) in the
    > countryside of France. First problem: the timetable at the bus
    > stop informed me that a bus had just passed, 5 minutes
    > earlier... Second problem: the second one was... two hours
    > later! (There are only 6 round-way trips per day on this line.)
    > So, I waited. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. It was
    > the 5th of December: the temperature cannot be described as
    > "tropical". The news had announced a storm, and winds and clouds
    > were increasing. Finally, I saw a bus (several others bus lines
    > lines pass in front of this bus stop). I jumped on my valid
    > foot, moved to the side of the pavement, made big gestures with
    > my remaining arm... and the bus driver was looking something on
    > the other side of the street, and the bus continued his way...
    >
    > It is then that I made my first error: I was so furious that I
    > decided to "walk" to the next bus stop, thinking (erroneously)
    > that the bus would come back from a loop. At each step, the pain
    > was increasing. When I finally managed to reach the next bus
    > stop, it was to discover that it belonged to another bus line,
    > so my move had been in vain. And my foot was so painful by then
    > that it was obvious that I could never go back to the Hospital.
    > ****!
    >
    > Here, I must explain that, normally, I live with very, very few
    > money. However, the 5th December was a Tuesday and, each Monday,
    > I take 20 Euros from my post bank account, and do my shopping
    > for the whole week. That particular Monday, I had bought very
    > few things, so I had a little bit more than 15 Euros remaining
    > in my pocket (and enough food for a week at home).
    >
    > This bus stop was about 50 meters from a small supermarket where
    > I sometimes bought things (it is on my way to the cybercafe).
    > So, I went with great pains there, and asked one check-out
    > assistant that I had seen several times to ask a taxi for me.
    > After a few minutes during which I endured some pains in my
    > foot, she told me that she had finally managed to reach the taxi
    > station, and that a taxi was on the way. I thanked her, then
    > went to wait the taxi near the entrance of the little
    > supermarket.
    >
    > After a few minutes, the taxi arrived, I told him the
    > destination, and he left me at my neighbour's home (cost: more
    > than 12 Euros for 6 kilometers). I went to talk with him and
    > his wife. I asked him if he could accomodate me during 2 or 3
    > weeks, until Christmas, when I would leave the city to meet my
    > family. Unfortunately, he told me that they had built this
    > house for their retirement only, and had not planned any room
    > for their children. So, I was obliged to go back home. Seeing
    > my ankle, my neighbour (who had never experienced something like
    > that, despite having worked as a masson during 50 years) drove
    > me to my house, rather than let me walk back home.
    >
    > The storm was arriving, so I went straight to my bed, and passed
    > the evening wondering what to do: I could not use my left arm or
    > hand, so could not drive a car or a bike, or a moped or a
    > bicycle. I could not walk. I knew nobody unemployed that could
    > help me. There is a 15% unemployment rate in the area. The
    > happy few people that have a job here are so terrified of losing
    > it that nobody I know would take the risk of losing it just to
    > help me during the next weeks. I spent my worst night. The pain
    > in my foot was preventing me from sleeping: every move, just the
    > weight of the sheet, was painful. I was sweating from pain in
    > my bed, when it was freezing outside. It is then that I made my
    > second error: I should have decided to phone the remaining
    > living persons of my family, explained my situation, and asked
    > them to spend the next weeks recovering in their homes. Instead,
    > I decided not to move, to stay at home until the Christmas
    > family meeting. The problem was what to do, and how to feed,
    > during those next 3 weeks.
    >
    > The next day (Wednesday), the storm had cleared the sky. At the
    > beginning of the afternoon, I came back, painful step by step,
    > to my neighbour, and phoned an Association of unemployed people.
    > I asked them someone to move me to the various administrations
    > that cater to me, to warn them of my situation (I don't have a
    > phone at home, the mobile phone I had was no longer working, so
    > the only way to reach the outside world was to go to my
    > neighbour). I then spent about one hour at my neighbour's home,
    > while he had his usual nap. When he awoke, I phoned again the
    > Association, and was told that my demand was unusual, that they
    > have dozens of unemployed people in their city, but that few of
    > them were rich enough to have a car. So, I told her that, if she
    > managed to find me a driver, I was going back to my home. I
    > waited until the sunset, then went back to my bed.
    >
    > The next day (Thursday), I went to the only company in my street
    > (at the outskirt of my 7,000 inhabitants village): a
    > coachbuilder (car body shop). There is a 4x3 meters billboard on
    > the National road signaling this shop, so everybody knows where
    > it is. I asked the shop owner, that I know, to call me a taxi,
    > to go to the village center. It costed me 10 Euros for 1
    > kilometers... (He was coming from the City 6 kilometers away.)
    > I took some money at the post office, went to a Chemist to buy
    > the sling and the aspirin (the only medicament that I took
    > during all those days: the first night was a nightmare, after
    > that the aspirin helped me to sleep) that the Emergency doctor
    > had prescribed, then ...
    >
    > read more


    Not to be mean or start any flame war, I feel for you, but your
    expierience in the hospital makes me glad to be in the US.

    Bill H


  5. Re: French Luser News

    > Well... In France, we have a saying ("Les gens heureux n'ont pas
    > d'histoires.") whose equivalent in English I could not find in
    > my dictionaries. Grosso modo, it means: "Happy people have such
    > an uneventful life that you cannot find any trouble to record in
    > history books."


    Wow! what a incredible account - It is amazing that you have survived well
    enough (mentally and physically) to tell the story.

    I think I am happy to be one of those uneventful types without any trouble
    to write about - (hasn't always been the case though).
    As somebody once said "Things can only get better".

    Alan




  6. Re: French Luser News

    French Luser wrote:
    [story snipped]

    "not my dogs" indeed. In the US those dogs would very quickly get put
    down by the authorities if they didn't get shot in the act first.

    All the best to you!

    --
    David Griffith
    dgriffi@cs.csbuak.edu <-- Switch the 'b' and 'u'

  7. Re: French Luser News



    > Not to be mean or start any flame war, I feel for you, but your
    > expierience in the hospital makes me glad to be in the US.


    Can't really see what the hospital did wrong: he ran a way - anyway
    at least in France he wouldn't have to pay! And far better than here
    in the UK where he wouldn't have seen hide nor hair of a nurse in
    under four hours, then he have had his ankle amputated by mistake
    (probably the wrong obe) and then died of MRSA a few weeks later!

    Dom



  8. Re: French Luser News


    French Luser ha scritto:

    > AROBASE.TXT
    > -----------
    >
    > Well... In France, we have a saying ("Les gens heureux n'ont pas
    > d'histoires.") whose equivalent in English I could not find in




    It seems an horror story, but is a bit comforting after all: i thought
    that this kind of "adventures" where possible just here, in Italy.

    Piergiorgio Betti


  9. Re: French Luser News

    > Can't really see what the hospital did wrong: he ran a way - anyway at
    > least in France he wouldn't have to pay! And far better than here in


    wouldn't have to pay ???? Almost 70% of everything you earn in France goes
    away in taxes ! Of course you pay in France and you pay A LOT !



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