Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
DAVID SEDARIS
Dentists Without Borders
FROM
The New Yorker
O
NE THING THAT
puzzled me during the American health-care debate was all the talk about
socialized medicine and how ineffective it's supposed to be. The Canadian plan was likened
togenocide,butevenworseweretheonesinEurope,wherepatientslanguishedonfilthycots,
waiting for aspirin to be invented. I don't know where these people get their ideas, but my
experiences in France, where I've lived off and on for the past 13 years, have all been good.
A house call in Paris will run you around $50. I was tempted to arrange one the last time I
had a kidney stone, but waiting even 10 minutes seemed out of the question, so instead I took
the subway to the nearest hospital. In the center of town, where we're lucky enough to have
an apartment, most of my needs are within arm's reach. There's a pharmacy right around the
corner,andtwoblocksfurtheristheoffice ofmyphysician, Dr.Médioni. Twice I'vecalled on
a Saturday morning, and, after answering the phone himself, he has told me to come on over.
These visits, too, cost around $50. The last time I went, I had a red thunderbolt bisecting my
left eyeball.
The doctor looked at it for a moment, and then took a seat behind his desk. “I wouldn't
worry about it if I were you,” he said. “A thing like that, it should be gone in a day or two.”
“Well, where did it come from?” I asked. “How did I get it?”
“How do we get most things?” he answered.
“We buy them?”
The time before that, I was lying in bed and found a lump on my right side, just below my
ribcage.Itwaslikeadeviledeggtuckedbeneathmyskin.Cancer,Ithought.Aphonecalland
20 minutes later, I was stretched out on the examining table with my shirt raised.
“Oh, that's nothing,” the doctor said. “A little fatty tumor. Dogs get them all the time.”
I thought of other things dogs have that I don't want: Dewclaws, for example. Hookworms.
“Can I have it removed?”
“I guess you could, but why would you want to?”
He made me feel vain and frivolous for even thinking about it. “You're right,” I told him.
“I'll just pull my bathing suit up a little higher.”
When I asked if the tumor would get any bigger, the doctor gave it a gentle squeeze. “Big-
ger? Sure, probably.”
“Will it get a
lot
bigger?”
“No.”
“Why not?” I asked.
