When will they ever learn?

This is a story about...water. Actually, I could be more specific and say a glass of water.

The glass of water that my 88 year old grandmother had to wait 36 hours to get while at a private clinic in western France last week. 36 hours without food, I might add, as she was told to report for her minor surgery with an empty stomach. She went home with an empty stomach, too.

Surgery was mid-morning. That afternoon, my mother saw grandmother in recovery. Grandmother was fine, impatient to be taken to her room, which seemed to be taking quite a while. My mother was assured that a dinner tray would be provided to the patient as soon as she was settled in.

That evening, tired of waiting for the promised tray, grandmother finally buzzed the nurse station. She was told it was coming. It never came. She did manage to get a cup of tea before bedtime.

The next morning, grandmother was awakened at 6AM. She asked everyone who came into her room for some water. A large glass bottle of mineral water was eventually placed on the nightstand, out of my grandmother's reach. In any case, had she been able to reach it, she would have had to drink directly from the bottle since no cup had been provided.

The nurse handing out breakfast trays refused to give my grandmother one - breakfast consisted of baguette and, the nurse told her 'But Madame, you cannnot chew the bread!'. (Grandmother, like many people her age, wears dentures). No alternative meal was proposed but a cup of warm water from the bottle on her nightstand was finally served.

Grandmother, thirsty, hungry, with bandaged head and neck, was drinking her water. Suddenly, the nurse in charge told her to get up and get dressed - her bed was needed! The bottle was taken away and someone helped grandmother get dressed.

She was then escorted out to the waiting room where one chivalrous fellow patient gave her his chair. 'Is my daughter coming to get me?', she asked. The person escorting her did not know. 'The surgeon has signed a certificate for a free (paid for by Social Security) ambulance to take you home, Madame. It doesn't matter if your daughter doesn't come.'

After a time in the waiting room full of sick people, someone came to escort her out of the clinic. 'Yes, Madame, your daughter has been notified but we don't know when she's coming.' 'So where are you taking me?', grandmother asked. 'Down to the main lobby to find an ambulance for you, Madame.'

And with that, she was lead to the elevator. The doors opened and lo and behold!, my mother just happened to be in it. The staff member holding my little 4'10'' grandmother's arm handed her over unceremoniously and said au revoir.

My grandmother is of the older generation of French women - women who do not easily impose their wishes upon authority figures, who are effacée, who do not whine and who don't like feeling dependent on anyone. She has been a widow and retired since the 70's, fending for herself. Even so, asking for something, even as basic as water, repeatedly could not have been easy for her.

It was, unfortunately, very easy for the staff at this clinic to ignore her. They couldn't even leave her in her room, where she had a minimum of comfort, if no water to drink or food to eat, until my mother arrived!

I cannot imagine what that situation would have been like for an older person of lesser health, physically or mentally, than my grandmother. She has stamina, my ancestor, and she bounced back beautifully, thank heavens.

Thank heavens it's March and not July.

Bon rétablissement, Mémère. Bisous.