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Xanax in France

So I went today to a doctor. There was nobody in the waiting room. Just some chairs and magazines. You sit down and you wait. Presumably, the doctor figures out that you’re there when s/he buzzes you into the building. So I sat and waited, in a small, windowless, smooth surfaced, echoy-as-heck room and the doctor came out. He spoke more English than I speak French. In general, I hate doctors. They make me anxious. He was ok, though. We talked for a few minutes. He took my blood pressure, listened to my heart and breathing. Told me my heart is fine. Asked as many questions as he could given the language issues. Told him that the first time I had a panic attack was when my mom had cancer. He said, I was freaking out about the death of my mother (ok, possible). It makes people more fragile. (ok, possible). Whatever. He gave me a prescription for Xanax. I walked across the street afterwards and got some generic Xanax. woot. Nobody said anything to me about any side effects or not to take it with alcohol or anything else. Nicole bought aspirin the other day and it doesn’t even say how often to take them. I guess that if you speak French, the pharmacist explains it to you, or maybe you have to ask. The aspirin’s drug info is all in French. I haven’t looked at the Xanax yet.

I don’t have health insurance in France, so I had to pay cash for a longish doctor’s visit and a prescription. The whole thing set me back 25€. Thank goodness the American government is saving us from the hell that is a socialized medical system! I can’t imagine living under a regime where I can call up a doctor, have an appointment the next day and walk out to fill a 2€ prescription, where even if the national health isn’t covering any part of it for some reason, it costs less than my new pillow did. God forbid that government regulation lead to easy, accessible, affordable healthcare.
Anyway, I’ve been getting better every day since Christmas, so maybe I won’t need to take any of my prescription. I remember some very drama-causing insult from over the summer where one person in my french class called another a xanax-popping old lady or some such thing. Oooh, how the sparks flew! You don’t mess with people who need tranquilizer prescriptions. If they could keep perspective on such things, they wouldn’t have the prescription, right?
So I’m fine. This blog is now set to return to news commentary, music commentary and wine reviews.
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I’m sure this is entirely fascinating

Around 13:20, I went to the doctor’s office and the door was locked, so I went home and called and I have an appointment for 5:00 tomorrow. I feel better every day, so this is going away on it’s own. But it would be nice to know that I don’t actually have heart problems. Not that I think I do, rationally.

Yesterday I walked for like 2.5 hours from my house to the Cité de la Musique, which is out at the edge of the 19th, just barely still within Paris. I followed the St. Martin Canal. I need to look at a map to figure out where I was.
Today, I walked the other direction, along the covered portion of the canal to Bastille, where it becomes uncovered again. There’s a nice garden there. I left much later. It was dusk. I took some pictures of posies peeking out from the snow.
My computer is kind of freaking me out, (because i’m CRAZY), so more later.
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Anxiety

Any of y’all got advice for dealing with anxiety? Can it be caused by short days and not enough sunlight, or what? I’ve felt anxious the last three winters, but, you know, my mom died and then I got divorced and stuff. Also, when I was at Wesleyan, I would get anxious as all my due dates arrived for final projects and then I would go home to California and feel more relaxed and much warmer. This is my first solstice away from California and I’ve got no deadlines I can think of and no source of stress aside from daily life and I’m as anxious as I’ve ever been. It’s driving me crazy . . . so to speak.

One day in the summer in New York, I received a particularly stressful letter from an adversarial divorce lawyer and shortly thereafter, my neck began to hurt a lot and I, quite reasonably, decided that I had tetanus and went to an NYC emergency room where a nice doctor told me that I probably didn’t have it. I’m avoiding repeating that embarrassment and am not running to an emergency room saying that I’m having a heart attack. However, anxiety + rapid heart beat + occasional chest pains is somewhat alarming, which tends to cause anxiety, which, yikes, vicious circle! If it’s not being caused by heart problems, it’s going to cause them.
I’ve cut out coffee and tea. I got for at least a half hour walk between 10-14, when the sun is high in the sky. I take vitamins. I sleep enough hours. I breathe deeply. And still, every goddamn day I find myself spending time feeling freaked out. But, you know, functionally so. Tomorrow, I’m cutting out sugar. And going to see a doctor tomorrow, I guess. I hate doctors. They make me anxious. ha ha ha. And seriously, wtf are they going to do for me? If I feel anxious every single day, punctuated by periodic panic attacks. I can’t be popping Xanax 24/7. Bah, the week between Christmas and New Years. Maybe I should just go to an emergency room, because then my stupid travel insurance might cover it and it’s not like I have any idea how else to access healthcare and isn’t everyone on vacation right now anyway.
After this year, I’m spending every winter in Berkeley or south of these from then on. Also, apparently, my exes are right and I’m one of the crazy people. Alas. Or, you know, I’m really having a heart attack…
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Meme of 4

If Alex Ross is doing it, it must have spread beyond livejournal.

Four jobs you’ve had in your life: fast food, computer programmer, TA, lab assistant.
Four movies you could watch over and over: Run Lola Run, Heathers, um…. there are some books I could read over and over: Horse Heaven By Jane Smiley, The Wizard of Oz and the rest of the series by Frank Baum, The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien. Oh, that’s a movie too. I guess I could watch it a bunch of times.
Four places you’ve lived: Cupertino, California; Berkeley, California; Middletown, Connecticut; Paris, France
Four TV shows you love to watch: Dr. Who, The Daily Show, The X files, Star Academy
Four places you’ve been on vacation: Hawaii; Belize; St. Petersburg, Russia; Portland, Oregon
Four websites you visit daily: Wonkette, Fafblog, Atrios, Overheard in New York.
Four of your favorite foods: broccoli, tofu & rice; baguettes; bbq corn and madelines.
Four places you’d rather be: (aside from Pairs?) Berkeley, Santa Cruz (on the beach), Berkeley and Berkeley.

Bonus round: 4 favorite cheeses: Emmental, Gruyevre, St. Nectair, Camembert.
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Nourriture de Nöel

Christmas is a’comin and it’s time to figure out what shopping I need to do. I thought that the franco-american hybrid vegetarian christmas food might be somewhat interesting. (Also somewhat interesting: “le bouffe” is vulgar. How can a word that means “food” be vulgar?) Also, I need real recipes for some of these things. I dunno if I can fake french toast.

An asterix means that I need to buy it. Parenthetical means that I’ll prepare it if Santa brings it.

Breakfast

Pain Perdue

  • Brioche
  • eggs *
  • butter *
  • soy milk
  • sugar *
  • cinnamon, etc

(pamplemousse)

Beverages

  • mimosas: oj + champagne
  • coffee *

The big meal

(salad)

I dunno about salad. It’s a lot of work for rabbit food.

Mashed taters

  • potatoes *
  • garlic
  • creme fraîche
  • soy milk
  • butter *
  • emmental

Yams

  • yams *
  • butter *
  • raisins *
  • maple syrup *

Gravy

  • mushrooms
  • onion
  • garlic
  • flour
  • olive oil and/or butter
  • soy milk *
  • celery *

String beans

  • 1/2 kilo haricots vert *
  • butter *

Squash soup

  • pre-baked Squash (I saw some butternut squashes at the hippie store!) *
  • pre-baked Chestnuts
  • onion
  • garlic
  • hot pepper (*)
  • carrots
  • rice and/or quinoza
  • broccoli *
  • celery *
  • butter
  • creme fraîche

Cheese

  • st nectaire *
  • tba other cheese *
  • baguettes *

Dessert

I reserved a Christmas cake from the baker. I love living in a civilised country where you are not expected to perform baking feats, but can get a very high quality cake from across the street.

Beverages

  • mulled cider: spice + apple juice
  • mulled wine: spice + cheap wine (maybe santa wants to bring an extra bottle for mulling)
  • good wine
  • (cognac)

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Well, if we’re starving, we can always eat the dog

Recently, the world’s frist partial face transplant was performed in France. The recipient’s labrador had bitten off part of her face while she was unconscious. Apparently, this is normal for dogs. It tried to wake her up by pawing at her, and when she failed to respond, it started chewing on her. Who knows when the next meal is coming, better to eat the hand that used to feed you.

If you fall and hit your head and get knocked out, maybe your dog will be heroic like Lassie and run for help. Or maybe it will eat your face. How do you know ahead of time if your dog will try to save you or grab a snack? You don’t.
I haven’t seen Xena in weeks and weeks, but now I think of her a bit less fondly. She never was particularly affectionate. Oh, sure, she seemed to love me while I was awake. But if she nosed me in the morning and I didn’t wake up, would I become dog food? Possibly. Maybe when somebody else came home, she would run around excitedly with my head like sho normally does with a chew toy. It could happen. You don’t know.
Your pets look at you like you look at them. In case of emergency: emergency rations. Can that really be love?
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What I did last weekend

I submitted my UC Berkeley Application on Thursday. Yikes. I have no idea about one of my recc letters, so I de-listed it. My former advisor has also been very quiet about whether or not he sent anything, but I would be surprised if he did not. Why are the deadlines so close to final exams?

Friday morning, T blew through town again. We wondered around Montparnasse and did a teeny but of Xmas shopping. The next day, we hopped on a train for Bordeaux, which I’m sure you’re aware, is in the south west of France. We arrived and walked around town for a while, which was done up in beaucoup de holiday decorations. Lights were everywhere! We went to the Marché de Noël and wandered around some. It was very charming and stuffed full of food vendors. I purchased a hat, which I like. Then we wandered around looking for food.
It turns out that traditional food of Aquitaine is not entirely vegetarian friendly. I’ve never heard of so many different kinds of pork. We finally went to an “Italian” restaurant. It’s often interesting to see how one country does ethnic food from other countries. I don’t recall seeing emmental as an ingredient in Italy. I got gnocchi drenched in cream and cheese. It was good. Sort of a franco-italian hybrid.
The next morning we went to a café / coffee shop that I swear could have been plucked form Berkeley and dropped into Bordeaux. The cafés in the touristy part of Bordeaux have much more similarity to Berkeley’s “french” coffee shops than do the cafés of Paris. After drinking too much coffee, we went to look in the Cathedral and then went wine tasting.
The wine tasting was a bi-lingual tour, with most of the information being repeated in English after it was explained in French. The bus ride to the wineries was full of information about the history of Bordeaux and it’s wine trade. Bordeaux is the major city in the Aquitaine region. Elanor of Aquitaine was a woman in the 11th century who controlled a large portion of France. She was first married to the French king, but after he was out of the picture (died, probably), the land holdings reverted to her. She then married the king of England and Aquitaine became English property for the next few hundred years. Her son from her second marriage was Richard the Lionhearted, the good king who went on crusades and left somebody crappy to replace him, thus forcing Robin Hood to spring into action and forcibly redistribute wealth. His temporary replacement also signed the Magna Carta. Anyway, fast forward a few hundred years to the Hundred Years War. The French king, with the help of Joan of Arc, regained control of all of the continental holdings of the English. Bordeaux was banned from trading with England. Sine the English were nuts for Bordeaux’s wine and bought almost all of it, the people of the region were unhappy and went into revolt. The last battle of the Hundred Years war was fought near the city of Bordeaux. Talbot, then in his 70’s, was called out of retirement to help re-take Bordeaux. The English were completely defeated and the French king installed towers to track the coming and going of the people of Bordeaux and make sure they didn’t revert to their English ways.
The wine was good too.
For dinner, we managed to go to a traditional restaurant which had a few vegetarian options. Is there anything better than caramelized onions, cream and cheese baked together? No, there is not.
After dinner, we went back to the Marché de Noël with the goal of trying the Bière Chaud. That’s hot beer, a speciality of Alsace, which was for sale at the market. It was basically a spiced Christmas beer, served at the same temperature that mulled wine is served. It had a strong flavor of cloves and was drinkable, except for the bitter, awful aftertaste. It was as if they had used the bitterest, nastiest hops in the world. I shudder thinking of it now. Cola and T did not experience this aftertaste, which is strange. So I tried it again, but it was really there. Maybe I can taste some bitter hops oils that some other people can’t taste. Maybe this is why I hate IPA and other people like it. Weird. I cannot recommend the bière chaud and may even shudder if you mention it to me. The vin chaud, however, was another story. It goes really well with cotton candy, “barbe à papa.” (Literally, “daddy’s beard.”)
The next day, T left for Spain and Cola and I returned to Paris. I just now realized that Christmas is coming this Sunday. Oh my god, I haven’t purchased Cola a present yet! And I need to buy a tree and food and figure out what we’re going to eat! So much to do!
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