Hospitalized in Paris

My sister tripped. There's no other way to say this. She tripped.

Now, the thing is: Michelle has crappy feet. So, her tripping = bad. As in, shooting pain, tears in the hotel lobby, and a trip to the emergency room.

So we spent the morning of our second day in Paris in the Hospital Hotel Dieu, across the street from the Notre Dame Cathedral. We could hear the church bells ringing, when the ambulance sirens weren't drowning them out.

This again severely tested my french, as I had to look up the words for "twisted her ankle" and "has had prior foot operations." But when the non-english-speaking man at the front desk heard my french, he smiled wryly and motioned me to shut up. Guess I was hindering more than helping...

Thankfully, her foot wasn't broken or anything horrible like that. She did get some crutchy things, and her ankle hurts a lot, so she's not going to be too touristy for the rest of the days in Paris...