Anxiety Produces Nothing Good - Lesson 2

There are two places in my body that are my vulnerable spots. One is my throat, which, according to most astrologists, has something to do with me being a Taurus. I’ve learned over time that wearing something around my neck in both the cold weather and hot (there’s always air conditioning, it seems) will go a long way to protecting my throat from the soreness that heralds the onset of a cold. Earlier in August I had gotten a cold – starting in my throat – which brought me down for several days. (See Anxiety Produces Nothing Good, below).

My other vulnerable spot is my stomach. My stress naturally goes there. There was a period during my early years of management consulting in which I had more than one visit to the doctor (and once to the emergency room) complaining of stomach pain. (Dehydration was the diagnosis for one; I received drugs the second time.)

The excitement of making it to Nice, finally, after 8 months of planning, was pretty uplifting. And I wanted my first morning in Nice to be perfect. I did my run along the sea, came back and picked up breakfast from the patisserie, and set up a picture-perfect meal. Little did I know that a few hours later I would be regretting the abrupt change in my eating habits. And I think my own stress level didn’t help.

There were two things on my list that I hadn’t accomplished before I got on the airplane to Nice: making progress on finding an apartment and getting health insurance. I had initiated both; I had begun looking at the internet site that Christiane had suggested that allowed one to search for apartments by selected criteria, and I had completed an application for insurance coverage. But my application for health insurance was rejected (for what seemed like a pretty specious reason) and the distance between the US and France seemed an overwhelming obstacle at the time for looking for an apartment. That being said, I knew I would get to them both once I got here (well, one might question my planning given my health crisis described above).

So I surmise that perhaps the looming question of where I was going to live in Nice may have had an accretive impact on my health that second day. I went into the city in the early afternoon and spent some time at two Internet cafes (the first one wouldn’t let me access my Yahoo account, strangely). After doing some blogging and emailing, I was planning to look at the realty site, but my stomach was heaving a bit. And by the time I was heading home, I was feeling extremely nauseous. I hate getting sick, and did everything I could to keep from retching on the sidewalk. This was NOT the day I was planning, for sure. Once back at the apartment (arrived at without incident), I told Christiane I was not feeling well, and headed off to bed.

I got up several hours later that evening, and ate some yogurt and honey; the only other food I’d had that day was my breakfast and a package of peanut butter crackers saved from my Century ride a few days before. But I was just pretending to Christiane that I was feeling better…back in bed, my stomach was tied in knots. I sweated for a few hours before finally giving in and taking two aspirin. I’m a purist; I love it that I can reply “none” when questioned about my medications on a health form, and think the fewer manufactured drugs I put in my body the better. The aspirin must have helped, though, because I awoke the next morning feeling no nausea. I was hungry and had some breakfast (yogurt, banana and muesli), but still wasn’t feeling great. I went back to bed and lay down. Delaying the inevitable, perhaps?

Christiane called me from her computer a little while later, and asked if I wanted to look at apartments online. She had pulled up a site that has lots of listings across France (the same one I had spent a little time on), and we put together criteria I was looking for and set up a search. She was great, getting me to stay focused and look for what I wanted. I wrote down a bunch of telephone numbers, and then she sat down with me as I made two calls. I asked each of the realtors if they spoke English, but ended up speaking a mixture of French and English with both of them. And set up two appointments to see apartments that afternoon.

I went back to my room, feeling better. After later that afternoon, after walking through the apartments (a small one bedroom, first floor flat, and then a huge two bedroom second floor apartment with a balcony), I felt much better. I was speaking French (and some English), and I was actually getting going on doing this apartment search. Anxiety level down, stomach feeling better.

We all need a little help from our friends.

The apartment hunt continues.I can’t wait to have my own place. It is lovely to have a room with Christiane, and I don’t mind visiting and being a visitor, but I look forward to setting up my new home. And to welcome my own visitors!