2024-10-23 14:14:00
It is October 1st in a Breton city. A man wakes up with a severe pain in the esophagus. In his life, he has had several motorcycle accidents, he has been left with chronic pain, and he takes painkillers daily. He generally attributes esophageal pain to excessive medication intake. But this time the pain is stronger, ever stronger.
His attending physician, consulted urgently, told him to make an appointment with a gastroenterologist. The small town of Côtes-d’Armor has three general practitioners, a few physiotherapists, but no gastroenterologists. The race to the meeting begins. No slot in Lannion, 10 km from home. Neither in Guingamp (40 km), nor in Saint-Brieuc (80 km), nor in Brest (100 km), nor in Rennes (180 km), nor in Nantes (270 km), nor in Tours (420 km)…
Two days pass, the man curls up on his sofa. First of all, he doesn’t want to go to the nearest emergency room, where one day a doctor called him a malingerer. Well yes, when we suffer from multiple pains, we do not fit into the boxes of certain professionals who have learned to only consider illnesses and not patients. But the pain makes him abdicate, and a waiting in the emergency room then an electrocardiogram later, we reassure him: there is nothing on the heart side.
However, the pain is still there, unbearable and unexplained. Finally, the man’s son gets an appointment in Paris, 530 km away. The family leaves in the early morning. The Ile-de-France gastroenterologist who examined the Breton sent him to the emergency room immediately. What he suffers from has nothing to do with the digestive sphere, says the specialist, who suspects a heart problem. After two hours of waiting in the emergency room, the diagnosis of heart attack fallswith subsequent operation and installation of two stents. “Your husband was a hair’s breadth from death,” the surgeon said to the wife. A hair… 530 km.
That’s the medical desert. Heart attacks and strokes that go undiagnosed or too late, teeth that hurt, eyes that can no longer see, pathologies that worsen to the point of endangering the lives and mental health of patients.
Because when we cannot heal ourselves, we endure and we despair. On his Parisian hospital bed, the miraculous Breton asks himself: “Was that the social security project? Is that national solidarity? Does living in the region mean signing your own condemnation? “
At a time when our parliamentarians are considering the Nation’s budget, what answer will they give to these questions?
Read also Cries in the desert… medical
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