Merci Beaucoup Anne-Claire Covain et Jacque!

It came out of nowhere. Kind souls offering relief and aid without preamble or forethought. Good Samaritans, you could say. I’d call them angels on earth.

For some time, I have been deliberating if I should highlight this random act of kindness but to completely obliterate it from my Paris experience would be a disservice to these amazing people. They are just that – amazing, because I don’t know if I’d be able to do the same thing when I’m in their shoes. Also, I’ll be leaving a large, momentous gap in the pages of my trip if I were, for obvious reasons, to sidestep this particular episode.

It happened the first Monday we were in Paris. We met these gentle creatures, close to 2 o’clock.

The reason I’ve reservation on disclosing this matter is mainly due to guilt. What kind of mother have I become? But all things considered, it wasn’t entirely my fault and I should cut myself some slack.

Sadia fell from the bed. *Cringe*

It was almost noon. The chambermaid knocked on the door when I was nursing Sadia in bed. She was already asleep and would habitually rouse from her somnolent state every half an hour. I was trying to make her go back to sleep. This was the first time I had to deal with a chambermaid at this hotel. I didn’t call out to her when she knocked because (a) Sadia was going back to sleep and (b) the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign in French/English was on the knob outside.

Unless she couldn’t read, I was not amused when she sprang open the door with her key. I dashed to the door imploring her to come later, pointing to the half-awake Sadia on the bed. Language became a barrier and she kept pointing to her watch. I guess, she was pressed for time and wanted to finish her work regardless.

I was exasperated by the communication breakdown and was gathering my thoughts on what to say next when it happened. Sadia was excited by the presence of a new person and like a flash of lightning, crawled towards me and into the floor. It was sheer agony!

The side of her left nose bled out. She was crying her heart out. Wailing inconsolably. Out of helplessness, I also shed a few tears. I finally managed to contact my husband via the cellphone and he practically ran to the hotel from his training centre (luckily it was around 10 minutes away by foot). The guilt-ridden chambermaid also called the frontdesk for assistance and the dour-looking lady on duty matter-of-factly suggested a clinic.

Sadia was still crying when my hubby came to the room. Since she didn’t stop crying, we were worried of her condition. It’s better to have her being checked up, we both concurred.

The permanent hotel office staff, Mary, was most useful and told us where the clinic was (up the road), yet another 10 minutes’ walk. We had problem locating the clinic at first but some locals pointed the way. We didn’t understand them, but sign language helped a little. So did our gut instinct. The clinic unfortunately told us that they don’t have a pediatric section. A nurse with passable English was courteous and informed us of the nearest hospital with the proper service. She telephoned the hospital’s rep that we were on our way and even called a taxi for us.

Sadia had quieted down by this time but her face was a picture of misery and sadness. She must be traumatized. In my arms, I could feel her body tightened still.

After reaching the (public) hospital’s ‘Urgence’ (Emergency) section, my husband filled up the relevant forms and thereon we waited for ages. (And I had thought government hospitals in Malaysia were bad). Possibly because we came around lunchtime, but a patient still needs treatment regardless of the hours.

By this time, Sadia had become vocal and babbling away while playing with some giant Legos at the toy corner. Poor Sadia, she must be hungry.

Finally, our turn came and we were ushered into one of the individual check-up rooms to assess Sadia’s condition. Herein, Sadia was still enunciating her vowels. We waited again for a doctor on duty to see her. An intern female doctor entered and asked a series of questions regarding the incident. In the end, she looked at Sadia’s nose much to her noisy protest.

We then sat down in the x-ray waiting area whilst the intern consulted her Chief on the next course of action. We dreaded the thought of putting Sadia under the scan.

It was a sigh of great relief when they decided against the procedure on the grounds that Sadia is so little to be x-rayed and instead gave us a slip for an appointment to see an ear, nose and throat (ENT) specialist the following Monday. The intern also passed us a paper listing the prescribed medication that we must purchase ourselves at any pharmacy (It’s the same system as in the Netherlands – you are given a written prescription to buy on your own medicines).

The waiting room became our domain again as we sat waiting for the next instruction i.e., payment. But after 15-20 minutes of idleness, no one appeared at the front counter. We were peeved and chose to find our way, going out the Urgence door in search of a payment or cashier section, asking a few people who only replied in French. Again, sign language paved the way for an understanding.

At a building across the Urgence section but tucked a little bit further inside the hospital compound, I frantically searched for a semblance of a cashier area and found one lady behind a glass wall with big letters that spelled ‘Caisse.’ Since my husband was holding Sadia who had fallen asleep (during the protracted wait), I passed the slip that the intern had given me to the lady cashier. The cashier gave me a quizzical look and uttered some French.

This was when Anne-Claire entered the scene, accompanied by her father Jacque. She was coming from the other side of the long hallway, walking slowly with the aid of her crutches. She was waiting behind me with her father, for her turn to see the cashier. The cashier queried me earnestly in French. I didn’t know what else to do and out of desperation, I immediately asked Anne-Claire for assistance. Do you speak English? A little, she said.

She then became a translator for us both – the cashier and me. Apparently, the problem lies in the confusion over Sadia’s surname, which the Urgence unit mistook Sadia as THE surname. Problem solved, Money paid, Receipt printed. We thanked Anne-Claire profusely for becoming our language mediator. She then proceeded to take care of her business. We were about to leave in search for a taxi when Anne-Claire walked past us and asked how we were going back. We told her our plan and she offered to give us a lift. Jacque was already in the car with the ignition on. We were touched by the gesture and thoroughly gratified.

As we drove to the hotel, we talked nothing important in particular, just about how lovely Paris is, her two children (showed their photos in her wallet) and what exactly Jacque’s relation to Anne-Claire (didn’t want to make a boo-boo by saying the wrong thing). Of course, my husband flattered him by quipping that Jacque looked young.

The hotel came in view and the car door opened. Our interaction didn’t stop there. Instead, Anne-Claire gave her contact details – phone number and email address – in case we need any more help in translating. She knew that we would have that specialist’s appointment the following week (which we didn’t follow through on) which might be sticky if the doctor/clinic is English-challenged.

Again, we were stumped by her thoughtfulness. We returned the gesture and gave my husband’s business card in turn, mostly for her to remember us by. Before they drove away, we gave our sincere thanks and wished them a Merry Christmas.

I am immensely grateful that we met such a selfless person like Anne-Claire, and by extension, her father, Jacque. And their unstinting help arrived at the most opportune and critical time. It was truly an eye-opener moment for me.

Skeptical and wary from my bad encounters in Malaysia, I wouldn’t have imagined those kinds of people exist anymore. The ones that come to our rescue without a second thought. Without scruple or prejudice attached. It was a humbling experience for me.

I thank Allah that Sadia turns out fine. Alhamdulillah. More pressingly, I thank Allah for bringing these kind individuals our way when we need further reinforcement. They were indeed Godsent!

As for Sadia, she was up and about - back to her normal, cheeky self - the same night of the accident. I now make a habit of carrying her if anyone knocks on the door, sleep or otherwise, to thwart anymore unwanted incidents. God bless her!