We had a little medical emergency, with a surprise nice resolution. We had bought some inexpensive drinking glasses to tie us over until our belongings arrive in a couple months. Mike was washing one of them by hand, and it suddenly snapped into pieces, slicing across is right-hand little finger. Lots of blood! It was obviously more than just a small cut, but it wasn’t deep either. He held his hand up above his heart for a while; the bleeding slowed, but didn’t quite stop. We were wondering what we should do in this new town and in French.
All this happened just before we were scheduled to go over to our landlord’s house so he could help with a call to the internet/TV company. Mike stayed at home, with hand raised high, and I went to the appointment. I explained what had happened, hoping that Georges and Michèle would have a recommendation for where we should go to get the cut inspected. Surprise: Georges said (in French): “But I am a doctor! I would like to see the cut.” We didn’t know that he was a doctor! So I went back home and brought Mike back to their house. Out came a little supply case of tools and medicines. From the way Michèle behaved, instantly supportive at Georges’ side, I think she must have been a nurse. Or: They do have 3 children, so lots of parent training as well. George agreed that it was a cut above average, but quickly applied a tight butterfly suture to hold the skin together, and wrapped it all up in a bandage. He even gave Mike a tiny finger condom to protect the wound when he showers.
We think we have landlords with super powers! I’m writing this a few days after the day of the wound. George emailed last night, insisting that we stop by today so that he can see how it is healing. We have great good fortune with such nice helpful people here.