Mickey: I was thinking of doing some sightseeing.Mickey: Sure. You got any stuff here?Ellen: Yeah, we got some stuff. Would you like to see the Eiffel Tower?Mickey: That's here?-Forget Paris (1995)
Who doesn't love Paris? Paris is considered one of the most romantic cities in the world. I was lucky to travel there a couple of years ago. We went to Disneyland Paris for Christmas and then spent a few days in Paris touring the famous sights. I went to the Eiffel Tower, walked up the Champs-Élysées, toured the Louvre (TIP: You can cut the entrance line if you have a kid in a stroller and then again cut to the front of the line to see the Mona Lisa.), and visited Notre Dame.
Then on New Year's Eve it happened, I started to miscarry. I was about 10 weeks along. I had been feeling pretty good. In fact, I had felt so good I told my husband I didn't even feel pregnant. I called my doctor who told me to go to the American Hospital (they speak english there and take my insurance). We we scheduled to fly out early in the morning. It didn't look like that was going to happen. Unfortunately, getting to the hospital at 9pm on New Year's Eve in Paris is not the easiest thing to do.
I got myself together and my husband dressed our daughter, who had been getting ready for bed. We went down to the lobby and looked for the hotel doorman. The doorman was telling an elegantly dressed woman, "Madame, there are no taxees in Parees tonight. It is the New Years!" She was in her mink coat and seemed to have trouble comprehending that she wasn't getting what she wanted. I approached the Doorman and told him that I was having a miscarriage and needed to get to the American Hospital immediately. He suggested an ambulance, but couldn't guarantee me that it would take me to the American Hospital. Not good. I told him I could only go to the American Hospital, then I clutched my abdomen for dramatic effect. I thought if I played the sympathy card I could get the Doorman to make a taxi magically appear. The doorman offered a private car service. Now he was talking, but magic isn't free and the car came at a price -- 100 Euros. My husband stepped forward and said, "We'll take it." We didn't have a choice, 100 Euros was the going rate for a private car and driver to take you any place in Paris on New Year's Eve. A beautiful new Audi sedan seemed to arrive out of nowhere and whisked us away.
It turns out the hospital was a 10 minute drive away. I could have walked if I had been going to the hospital for a broken arm or something. Also, it turns out there was a bus that went directly to the hospital from in front of the hotel. But this was an emergency. 100 Euros for 10 minutes. Oh well, normally I like to get kissed before I get f-ed. When in Paris...
The doctor who came in to see me in the emergency room was named Dr. Hanke (her real name), pronounced HAN-KEY. Yes, like the South Park character, Mr. Hankey! My husband and I looked at each other and started laughing at the absurdity of our situation. Dr. Hanke informed us that because it was New Year's Eve, they were understaffed, didn't have an ultrasound technician around and I needed to come back in the morning for an ultrasound to see if everything is ok with the fetus. So I was supposed to go back to my hotel room and relax until the morning. By now it was almost midnight. How were we going to get back to the hotel? The doctors showed my husband where the local taxi stand was. He ran out to find a taxi. I thought it would take a miracle given what we went through to get to the hospital. He came back 5 minutes later with a taxi. We piled into the taxi and our daughter fell asleep across our laps. We passed by the Arc de Triomphe at the same time fireworks went off and horns sounded the marking the arrival of the New Year. My husband and I kissed and I said a silent prayer for a better year and a good outcome to my situation.
The next day the ultrasound wasn't good and I stayed in the hospital for my D&C. The doctors and hospital staff were wonderful, but the food was even better. Wine was on the menu in the hospital and I had a delicious cream of artichoke soup and fresh french bread for one meal. There were cloth napkins and nice utensils. In the middle of the day someone cam around and offered newspapers. I felt like I was in First Class on an Air France flight.
Not everything was perfect, the television sucked and the only channel not in french was CNN International. There was some big news while I was in the hospital, so it was 24 hours a day of Saddam's hanging. I wanted to get some of that rope for myself.
My husband was a hero during this time. He got the hotel to extend our stay, even getting them to keep the reduced rate I booked, rebooked our return flights, and entertained our daughter with bus rides around Paris and trips to the Luxembourg Garden (which has an excellent playground). Even more wonderful was the way my husband made sure I ended my trip to Paris on a high-note. When I was released from the hospital my husband took me to a sushi restaurant. I love sushi and it's a pregnancy no-no. I stuffed my face full of mercury-laden raw fish and it was great. Then he took me to Oz, otherwise known as the Hermès Flagship store, and bought me a scarf!
I was tres chic as I sashayed up the Champs-Élysées one final time with my new scarf in the unmistakeable orange Hermès bag swinging in my hand, and my hospital bracelet on my wrist.
Mickey: We were great in Paris.
Ellen: Forget Paris.
Mickey: Forget Paris? How do you forget the best week in your life?
It may not have been the best week in my life, but it will always be one of the most unforgettable.
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