Outrageous fortune

Apologies to all my readers for the blog lapse – and thank you both for your patience. Naturally I have an excuse for my postlessness; I even have a doctor’s note to prove it. It seems I have suffered a traumatisme and have une épaule fragalisée – a fragile and very tender shoulder.
We need not go into any lurid detail regarding the cause of my accident: let’s just say that I’ll think twice the next time I consider riding a vélib home after a few quiet drinks at a friend’s place. What I would like to discuss is my new-found appreciation for orthopedic appurtenances and physiotherapeutic paraphernalia.
The doctor I eventually found, obviously bitter at being the only one stuck in Paris in August, had filled a page of prescriptions with even more indecipherably spidery handwriting than strictly necessary to sustain the cliché. The pharmacist duly worked through the list, building an impressive mountain of analgesics, calmatives and relaxants, but eventually had to admit defeat concerning the last item. Four pharmacies and much head scratching and colleague-consulting later, I found someone willing to hazard a guess. And so I became the mystified yet impressed owner of une contention bandoulière: a shoulder-immobilising arm sling.
It took me a good hour to put on. It has so many straps, velcro tabs, adjustment buckles and padded bits that even now I’m not entirely sure I’ve got it on the right way. So I went (clumsily, left-handedly) online to look for some helpful diagrams or simple instructions. Here’s what I found:
What do you notice about the above sling shots? That’s right. All the supposedly post-traumatic sling wearers are smiling. Cheerfully, inanely, and in that disturbing last photo, sultrily. Now you have to take it from me; if you’re wearing an arm sling, chances are you’re not smiling. And you’re certainly not feeling sultry. I’d like to see some models with a bit of verisimilitude: wincing in pain, sheepishly bruised and orthopedically unsexy. Broken bones are not fun... or are they?

Just when I thought I’d seen it all, I discovered Broken Beauties, “bringing a more uplifting and appealing look to your broken arm or arm injury.” What next – bedazzled neck braces? Crocheted crutch covers?
Speaking of crutches, I have a theory: French doctors prescribe almost all patients with crutches, regardless of the injury or illness. It is incredible the number of people you see in the streets of Paris, walking briskly along, waving a crutch about. No limps, casts or bandages in evidence. Whenever I see someone with crutches now I try to guess the ailment: sore throat? Insomnia? Pink eye? The next time you’re out and about in Paris, keep an eye open for healthy crutch-bearers. I guarantee you’ll see them everywhere: parking their car in disabled spots, jumping the queue at the post office, elbowing ahead of you in the marathon, edging you off the dance floor with a high-kicking Charleston.
Of course they probably did have something wrong with them, and their doctor actually did prescribe antibiotics and eye drops, but the pharmacist just couldn’t read the handwriting, and wanted to get rid of those dusty béquilles in the back of the shop.