It's strange what things can be cheering. Since I've been here it has occurred to me that at some point I would need to find a doctor and explain my migraines and get my medication. This filled me with fear and something approaching horror. What if they did not have my medication here? What if they insisted on stacks of tests before they would just bloody give it to me? What if they just said no, or could not understand me?
So, down to my last tablet, I went. I've found a neat (in the English sense but possibly also in the American sense) way of tackling scary tasks is to imagine I'm doing them on behalf of someone else. Being a congenital helper, this seems to work.
The doctor was a very young, calm and sweet lady. In my hastily-knitted and rather dodgy French I managed to give her my medical history. And she gave me my prescription. Oh joy. I cannot say strongly enough what this means - basically without Sumatriptan my life is unmanageable due to the migraines. And I need that like I need a hole in the head.