Yes I know this is boring, but real life is not all fast women and loose cars you know.
I located the MGEN office and once again armed with my documents (of course I didn’t take my passport).
A very nice young lady welcomed me, spoke clearly and more slowly than absolutely necessary. She photocopied various documents and sent me away with a “I want to get into the social security system” form to fill in and a request to return at some point with my passport.
I duly filled in as much of the form as I could (understand) and returned complete with passport to the MGEN offices.
The same lady was on duty and she looked through my form, copied my passport and then tried to update my carte-vitale (this is a credit card sized piece of plastic with your social security number, photo, and some kind of electronic info chip).
Neither her, nor a back-room colleague were able to sort out the card. “They’ve put a block on it” she said. “We will have to send it away to get it unblocked and updated”...
Rule one – never let anyone take your carte-vitale away from you, you will never get it back.
But what’s a boy to do.
Some weeks later I got a letter telling me to keep hold of my carte-vitale and that they would notify me once it was ready to be updated. So I went along to the MGEN office and explained that they had taken my carte away from me. A different nice lady typed stuff into her computer. She also spoke clearly and slowly and said that, yes, my carte was still away being unblocked.
Two days later they sent me another letter, and a form to fill in to get a carte-vitale, and an envelope in which to return the form and a passport sized photo.......
That was at least 2 weeks ago.
What are the odds on a) never getting a card, b) getting a new card, c) getting new and old card?
Showing posts with label carte vitale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label carte vitale. Show all posts
Monday, 2 August 2010
Sunday, 1 August 2010
Return of the Troublesome Child
Hello I’m back. Yes it’s really me, not a virage. Yes, I know. It’s been about 3 months since I last made an entry.
Blogging can be a tough job. Many other bloggers encounter the same issues. It can drain your juices at times. So following the advice of the road safety organisation, I have taken a break from chronicling my long journey. Remember tiredness kills!
Not fooled? Okay. I just couldn’t be arsed. I was fed up spending hours preparing stuff that few people read. I put it on in the first place so that family, friends and former colleagues could see how I was progressing with my change of lifestyle and country.
Few had noted or mourned its passing and my father had saved a fortune in paper and ink because he prints the blog off for my mother to read.
Today is the first of the month, so perhaps with this new beginning I will manage another succession of posts.
Well a lot has happened since I last glogged (yes I know that is a spelling mistake but hopefully I have invented a new word which will make its way into the dictionary).
As you slowly try to integrate yourself into a new country and culture, it becomes increasingly difficult to write stuff which involves the people that you work for, or meet along the way. This means that some of the most frustrating observations have to be left on the cutting room floor.
So here we go.....
Healthy living.
Some may remember that my UK health care cover ran out on 1st January this year. My teaching jobs left me far short of the minimum 60 hours paid work per month, which would have got me in to the French Secu (Social security) system and its associated health cover.
When I quit my teaching English to primary kids job, and started work as a AVS (Assistant vie scolaire – School life assistant) I reached the dizzying heights of 80 hours per month.
I went down to the Secu with all the supporting paperwork that I could find. A nice lady looked at my paperwork, photocopied documents. “Where is your payslip?” she asked. Of course it wasn’t amongst the papers. “Come back when you find it” she said. She also called in a colleague (exhibit B, a real lemon-sucker)., who confirmed that yes, I would be one of theirs. I.e that my social security payments / healthcare would be co-ordinated by them.
I spent the next 4 hours ransacking my flat. It was nowhere to be found.
Some 20 days later I got a phone call from the high school that co-ordinates my contract. “Have you moved house?” she asked. “Your payslip has been returned to us as not know at this address”
So mystery solved. They had my address wrong on their files.
I received my payslip a few days later and went off down to the secu. A different woman saw me. I explained my situation again and she photocopied my payslip. “Don’t do anything until you hear from us” she said “I will telephone you to let you know when your carte vitale has been updated.
Several weeks passed, so I went back to the Secu with my latest payslip (just in case, because the French civil servants love documents). There was lemon-sucker. “I explained my situation again. “I remember you” she said, and poked about in some files “I told you that you would not be covered by us because you are on an AVS contract. You will be covered by MGEN”.
Now it doesn’t do to upset / argue with these people, as they can make you life very difficult. “no she didn’t know where their office was in town” she said helpfully.
Fortunately they were listed in the phone book.....
Blogging can be a tough job. Many other bloggers encounter the same issues. It can drain your juices at times. So following the advice of the road safety organisation, I have taken a break from chronicling my long journey. Remember tiredness kills!
Not fooled? Okay. I just couldn’t be arsed. I was fed up spending hours preparing stuff that few people read. I put it on in the first place so that family, friends and former colleagues could see how I was progressing with my change of lifestyle and country.
Few had noted or mourned its passing and my father had saved a fortune in paper and ink because he prints the blog off for my mother to read.
Today is the first of the month, so perhaps with this new beginning I will manage another succession of posts.
Well a lot has happened since I last glogged (yes I know that is a spelling mistake but hopefully I have invented a new word which will make its way into the dictionary).
As you slowly try to integrate yourself into a new country and culture, it becomes increasingly difficult to write stuff which involves the people that you work for, or meet along the way. This means that some of the most frustrating observations have to be left on the cutting room floor.
So here we go.....
Healthy living.
Some may remember that my UK health care cover ran out on 1st January this year. My teaching jobs left me far short of the minimum 60 hours paid work per month, which would have got me in to the French Secu (Social security) system and its associated health cover.
When I quit my teaching English to primary kids job, and started work as a AVS (Assistant vie scolaire – School life assistant) I reached the dizzying heights of 80 hours per month.
I went down to the Secu with all the supporting paperwork that I could find. A nice lady looked at my paperwork, photocopied documents. “Where is your payslip?” she asked. Of course it wasn’t amongst the papers. “Come back when you find it” she said. She also called in a colleague (exhibit B, a real lemon-sucker)., who confirmed that yes, I would be one of theirs. I.e that my social security payments / healthcare would be co-ordinated by them.
I spent the next 4 hours ransacking my flat. It was nowhere to be found.
Some 20 days later I got a phone call from the high school that co-ordinates my contract. “Have you moved house?” she asked. “Your payslip has been returned to us as not know at this address”
So mystery solved. They had my address wrong on their files.
I received my payslip a few days later and went off down to the secu. A different woman saw me. I explained my situation again and she photocopied my payslip. “Don’t do anything until you hear from us” she said “I will telephone you to let you know when your carte vitale has been updated.
Several weeks passed, so I went back to the Secu with my latest payslip (just in case, because the French civil servants love documents). There was lemon-sucker. “I explained my situation again. “I remember you” she said, and poked about in some files “I told you that you would not be covered by us because you are on an AVS contract. You will be covered by MGEN”.
Now it doesn’t do to upset / argue with these people, as they can make you life very difficult. “no she didn’t know where their office was in town” she said helpfully.
Fortunately they were listed in the phone book.....
Monday, 1 December 2008
28.11.2008 Friday – Down at the doctors
Worse night so far last night. I wrap up warm because although the sun is shining in a blue sky, the computer tells me it is minus 3 outside.
Clutching every document that I think I might need, I walk the few hundred yards to the nearest medecin generaliste practice. I give the receptionist the form that I was sent by CPAM to use to register with a doctor. She gives me my form back and looks concerned. Can you come back at 11am? she asks in French. I say that I can and I set off on the long trek home.
At 11am I am back at the medical centre. Some details are required, Name, address, telephone number, date of birth. That’s all she says, returning to her interrupted telephone call.
What am I supposed to do now? I wonder. Her call finishes and she waves me to a seat to wait.
About 5 minutes later a young man who looks about 23 years old, comes down the corridor behind his previous patient, says my surname. I get up and he shakes my hand. I follow him back to his room.
He ask me for my symptoms and I do the best I can. Who would have thought that to cough would be tousser, but I looked it up before going to the doctor.
Then I have to lie on his examination table and he takes my blood pressure, temperature, peers down my throat, into my ears, then he gets his stethoscope out.
I reassemble my layers of clothing and he prints out a prescription with 8 items listed on it, complete with instructions. He then goes through them all with me so I am sure to take the right number at the right time.
He finishes. What about my gluey eyes? I ask. He had forgotten about them, but writes another line on the prescription.
I give him my carte vitale and I hand over the 22 euros for the consultation.
Then its off to the chemists.
I choose the nearest one, which is just inside the medieval quarter. There is a queue and about 4 people serving. My turn and I hand over my prescription. Some of these are not reimbursable – she says. “C’est la vie” I say and she smiles. She has obviously not heard that one before.
My carte vitale is in her card reader while she scans in the barcodes of the various products. Time to pay another 25 euros or so. How will I pay.
I show her my top up assurance bank card, which is what I am sure I am supposed to use. She has not seen one of these before and disappears. Reappearing she asks if I have the paperwork to go with it? No I say. They cannot use this card. I hand over my carte bancaire. She is sorry as their machine for reading cards is broken. Do I have cash, or perhaps a cheque?
I give her my cheque book, and she processes on which I duly sign, date, and list the name of the town in which I am writing the cheque, as required.
Job done. My drugs are handed over. Goodbye she says. I remind her that she still has my carte vitale in her machine. Almost 2 – 1 to me I think.
I will have to go to my bank to find out what to do with my top up assurance bank card, but not today.
I buy bread and head home.
How does my experience today differ from the English health service.
I would have had to come back the following week to see the doctor having made an appointment whilst at the doctor’s reception. Or I could ring very early in the morning to see if I could get an appointment to come and wait until a doctor could see me at some time during the day.
In the UK I would not pay the doctor for a consultation. I would have been lucky to get a dose of antibiotics. If I could persuade the doctor to write a prescription it would cost me about £8 per item on the prescription.
Back home I number the boxes of medications to correspond with the numbering on the doctor’s prescription, which the chemist gave me a stamped copy of.
Clutching every document that I think I might need, I walk the few hundred yards to the nearest medecin generaliste practice. I give the receptionist the form that I was sent by CPAM to use to register with a doctor. She gives me my form back and looks concerned. Can you come back at 11am? she asks in French. I say that I can and I set off on the long trek home.
At 11am I am back at the medical centre. Some details are required, Name, address, telephone number, date of birth. That’s all she says, returning to her interrupted telephone call.
What am I supposed to do now? I wonder. Her call finishes and she waves me to a seat to wait.
About 5 minutes later a young man who looks about 23 years old, comes down the corridor behind his previous patient, says my surname. I get up and he shakes my hand. I follow him back to his room.
He ask me for my symptoms and I do the best I can. Who would have thought that to cough would be tousser, but I looked it up before going to the doctor.
Then I have to lie on his examination table and he takes my blood pressure, temperature, peers down my throat, into my ears, then he gets his stethoscope out.
I reassemble my layers of clothing and he prints out a prescription with 8 items listed on it, complete with instructions. He then goes through them all with me so I am sure to take the right number at the right time.
He finishes. What about my gluey eyes? I ask. He had forgotten about them, but writes another line on the prescription.
I give him my carte vitale and I hand over the 22 euros for the consultation.
Then its off to the chemists.
I choose the nearest one, which is just inside the medieval quarter. There is a queue and about 4 people serving. My turn and I hand over my prescription. Some of these are not reimbursable – she says. “C’est la vie” I say and she smiles. She has obviously not heard that one before.
My carte vitale is in her card reader while she scans in the barcodes of the various products. Time to pay another 25 euros or so. How will I pay.
I show her my top up assurance bank card, which is what I am sure I am supposed to use. She has not seen one of these before and disappears. Reappearing she asks if I have the paperwork to go with it? No I say. They cannot use this card. I hand over my carte bancaire. She is sorry as their machine for reading cards is broken. Do I have cash, or perhaps a cheque?
I give her my cheque book, and she processes on which I duly sign, date, and list the name of the town in which I am writing the cheque, as required.
Job done. My drugs are handed over. Goodbye she says. I remind her that she still has my carte vitale in her machine. Almost 2 – 1 to me I think.
I will have to go to my bank to find out what to do with my top up assurance bank card, but not today.
I buy bread and head home.
How does my experience today differ from the English health service.
I would have had to come back the following week to see the doctor having made an appointment whilst at the doctor’s reception. Or I could ring very early in the morning to see if I could get an appointment to come and wait until a doctor could see me at some time during the day.
In the UK I would not pay the doctor for a consultation. I would have been lucky to get a dose of antibiotics. If I could persuade the doctor to write a prescription it would cost me about £8 per item on the prescription.
Back home I number the boxes of medications to correspond with the numbering on the doctor’s prescription, which the chemist gave me a stamped copy of.
I have a throat gargle, eye drops, ibuprofen, nasal spray, I have to put 25 drops of an essential oil / salt solution into a big glass of water and drink it. Yuck! The cough medicine is nice, there is a 1 gram paracetamol effervescent tablet to add to water and drink. By now I am shivering, probably due to drinking all the water. Now the antibiotics.
Just the eye drops to do. I don’t notice that I have not done the nasal spray until I re-read the instruction in the evening.
All except the antibiotics have to be taken 3 or 4 times a day over the next several days. I must be ill!
Bed for the next few days then.
Just the eye drops to do. I don’t notice that I have not done the nasal spray until I re-read the instruction in the evening.
All except the antibiotics have to be taken 3 or 4 times a day over the next several days. I must be ill!
Bed for the next few days then.
Sunday, 2 November 2008
30 October 2008 Thursday – management of change – Rigsby on tour
I wake up at 5am, as the new tenant starts opening his squeaky front door. Why did I not oil it? He seems to go in and out and then finally drives off at 5.15am. Looks like he must be an early to work person after all.
It is lighter than yesterday, but the forecast says rain. Sure enough, at noon, it starts to rain again.
Having downloaded software to work with my phone yesterday, I am no longer able to access YouTube videos. I download the required software; I check that Java is enabled, but no success. I had wanted to watch the film of
“Who moved my cheese”
After an hour of trying out the suggested cures, I have YouTube again. Click on the link above to see it.
The book it is based on is slightly longer than the film and takes about an hour to read I believe.
I should have gone and pulled my wheelie bin back in off the pavement and checked my mail box. I am still waiting for my carte vitale medical card to arrive.
Did you guess the mystery posed in yesterday’s blog? It just goes to show what a small world it is. It is that my lodger and the bee keeper referred to in the choir email are one and the same person!
In the evening, I talk to S on Skype. She has a visit from her neighbour K whilst we are online, so I give K a live tour of my apartment. Then I leave the two of them to their glasses of wine and discussions of crochet hooks.
During the day I received a message from HB, my only official registered blog follower, giving me her skype details. I see that she is online, so I have a chat with her and D, and give them a tour of the flat too.
It is lighter than yesterday, but the forecast says rain. Sure enough, at noon, it starts to rain again.
Having downloaded software to work with my phone yesterday, I am no longer able to access YouTube videos. I download the required software; I check that Java is enabled, but no success. I had wanted to watch the film of
“Who moved my cheese”
After an hour of trying out the suggested cures, I have YouTube again. Click on the link above to see it.
The book it is based on is slightly longer than the film and takes about an hour to read I believe.
I should have gone and pulled my wheelie bin back in off the pavement and checked my mail box. I am still waiting for my carte vitale medical card to arrive.
Did you guess the mystery posed in yesterday’s blog? It just goes to show what a small world it is. It is that my lodger and the bee keeper referred to in the choir email are one and the same person!
In the evening, I talk to S on Skype. She has a visit from her neighbour K whilst we are online, so I give K a live tour of my apartment. Then I leave the two of them to their glasses of wine and discussions of crochet hooks.
During the day I received a message from HB, my only official registered blog follower, giving me her skype details. I see that she is online, so I have a chat with her and D, and give them a tour of the flat too.
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