Rufen Sie einen Krankenwagen!

So.
I thought today was going to be a normal(ish) Tuesday - meetings, meetings, meetings and then maybe a nice dinner, a glass of wine and a new book.

Instead, I got to ride in a Krankenwagen.

This is a Krankenwagen

I was sitting in a meeting with a colleague when I suddenly felt my lips and tongue go all numb and tingly. Luckily, this had happened once before (at an agency meeting in NYC, and caused quite the fuss as I think everyone thought I was bout to keel over) and so I knew that I was having some sort of allergic reaction to something. (Considering that I had only had time to grab a suspicious looking sandwich in the canteen today, my money is on there being something odd in the bread, as everything else was recognizable. But the bread was dark bread with all kinds of nuts, flakes and whatnot).

I asked my colleague if she would walk with me to the Arzt - we have an on-site medical clinic, largely because a) German law and b) there is a pharmaceutical production facility on campus - so I could get some antihistamine. Die Arzt had a sign that said is was geschlossen (closed). So we walked back to our building and to the receptionist where my colleague explained the situation in German. The receptionist dialed some hotline, and my colleague explained again. We sat down to wait, as apparently they would be bringing me some medicine.

What actually happened was that after about 2 minutes, I started to hear the distinctive "wah-wah" that is unique to all European sirens, and I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. I turned to my colleague and said, "Please tell me they didn't send the Krankenwagen?!" I had seen the Krankenwagen on campus, and had actually laughed at it in passing. Seems karma was paying attention that day.

So up pulls the ambulance, and the paramedics jump out like a pair of over-eager extras on the first season of E.R. They come running in with all sorts of equipment - basically everything but the gurney. They actually looked slightly disappointed to see that all my limbs were attached and there were no bodily fluids leaking. I explained the situation again, with help from my colleague. I just needed some Benadryl - anti histamine - and I would be fine. In America, someone would have slapped open a first aid case and sent me on my way.

Instead, I got a ride in the Krankenwagen. They took my blood pressure and listened to my lungs. They tried to get me to lie on the gurney. I declined. Keep in mind that it was about a 2 minute ride, at best, to the clinic. We arrived at the clinic - and pulled up at the loading bay. They ushered me into the clinic and made sure I was seated in an examination room. The two paramedics then hovered over me like a pair of 90 year old Jewish grandmothers. The doctor arrived, and thank goodness he spoke English. Again I explained the situation. This time, I actually got the medicine, along with a cup of water that one paramedic nearly tripped over himself bringing to me. Riding in that Krankenwagen all day must be pretty boring.

I took my medicine, along with stern instructions to return to the clinic in the morning so they could call and make me an appointment with an allergist. Apparently by doing this, I can jump ahead of the standard 6-month wait (oh, the joys of socialized healthcare!). I also was ordered to report to the Krankenhausen (hospital) if my symptoms returned.

(side note: krank = sick and kranken = suffering so I was riding around in a suffering wagon, and being directed to the house of suffering. Good stuff, German)

I then needed to provide my name, address and date of birth for the clinic records. One of the paramedics - who appeared to be twelve years old and enchanted by this entire experience - takes one look at my date of birth and spits out, "Oh, you're OLD!". I'd like to think he meant "older than you look", but the sad truth is I'm not too far from body parts just flying off at random. Germany being, well, Germany meant that no one even gave the comment a second thought.

And then, medicine in hand, they tried to get me BACK into the Krankenwagen to go back to my building. I refused politely, then firmly, and finally said (loudly), "NEIN KRANKENWAGEN, BITTE!". No more Krankenwagen. Please. I didn't know how to say "for the love of Baby Jesus", but I'm pretty sure the look on my face was pretty close to my thoughts. They let me and my colleague walk back all by ourselves and we had a good laugh about the whole situation.

Resolution: no more mystery sandwiches from the canteen.

And thus ends this Tuesday.