From my experience, the French have a much different relationship with healthcare than we do in the United States. However, from what I have read and heard; hospital care is actually quite good here.

What I mean is, there is not a rush to medicate like in the states.

When I had my first doctor’s visit, I had no idea what to expect. The doctor’s office was in the town of Nuits St. Georges. We had decided to spend the fall and most of the winter in the Burgundy region. Being a wine chaser, I couldn’t resist having a doctor in one of the great wine towns of France.

After parking my car in the town square, I walked about a block around the corner to the address I had for the appointment. The building was pretty innocuous. Almost hidden. I walked through the entryway and all I saw was an elevator and a set of stairs.

I chose the stairs.

At the top of the second set of steps there was a door without any writing on it. As I opened the door, I saw several office doors straight ahead of me. Luckily, one of them had my doctor’s name on it. But there was no receptionist or anyone to greet me.

To my right I noticed 4 people sitting in what looked like a waiting room. Not knowing what to do, I went and sat down. All four of them said Bonjour to me almost as one.

In about a minute or two a tall thin man came out of my doctor’s door and called out “Monsieur been frenched?” Took me a second to understand what he was saying, but then I figured out that it was me and he was my doctor. I followed him into his office.

It was sparsely decorated. Just a desk, a gurney and some cabinets.

He pointed at the chair in front of his desk, and he took a seat behind it. He asked me if I spoke French and I told him, “not enough to successfully complete this meeting.”

He asked me why I was there and why I was in France. I told him that my prescriptions from the US were about to expire, and that I was now living in France. Well, living in France, but still bouncing around looking for somewhere to live permanently. We I told him we were near Meursault, he said that his wife worked at one of the grand cru wineries in Beaune. “Lucky you” I smiled.

I shared my prescriptions that my US doctor had emailed me. He asked “how do you feel?” “Fine. I probably drink too much wine. We are in Burgundy.” He smiled “welcome to France”.

At that point, he asked me to sit on the gurney so that he could listen to my heart and check my blood pressure. Afterwards, we went back to his desk.

He entered my name and address into his computer. I told him that I also needed a referral to a dermatologist since it had been over a year since I had last seen one. (I grew up in Florida, and lived in California. What is sunscreen?)

After a few minutes typing, he printed out a couple of pages. One he signed that was my referral. The other was my new prescriptions.

He then asked me for my carte vitale. I told him that I did not have one yet, and that I would be paying for the appointment myself. Surprised he said “Ok, that will be €25.00”. I was shocked. There isn’t a doctor in America willing to even talk to you for that amount, let alone spend 20 minutes with you.

I pulled out my French debit card. He told me his hand held credit card machine was broken and asked if I had any cash on me. Luckily, because I usually don’t, I had a twenty and enough coins to get to 25.

He then asked if I needed a receipt. I said no, this was still cheaper than going to the doctor with insurance back in America. He smiled, stood up and offered me his hand.

As I walked out of the office, I couldn’t help but think about how weird that whole visit was. I also wondered how a doctor in France makes any money.