I did not take advantage of February’s free museum Sunday. Month numero deux of the year and already I’ve recommenced the going-away-at-weekend trend. I had a good excuse for this trip though – it was to visit my belle-famille and a birthday celebration was in the work. Frédéric and I also had a little excursion to Le Croisic (more on that another time), I cooked the Sunday lunch which was well-received (I was simply relieved nobody gets food poisoning) and all in all, a wonderful if tiring weekend, as our train arrived back in Paris near 1am.

On entering our apartment, two letters greeted me, one from the Caisse d’Assurance Maladie and another from the Carte Vitale. For those not living in France, the former deals with national healthcare system and the latter issues the card that allows me to receive healthcare nationally without emptying my bank account.

Hurrah – finally, I shall have my card!

Errr… no.

There was nothing that felt card-like in the envelopes.

There was no little green card in sight.

I was jolted wide-awake at this stage. Reading through the incredulous correspondence, I was simply furious and I spluttered a series of phrases not to be repeated here. I also felt defeated. I’ve battled this for 19 months. 19 months! By now I should have my card, and I and was actually planning a guide blog post on how to get the card with minimal pain. Given all that I’ve been through, I thought I knew where all the pitfalls may be.

Errr, again, no.

[Warning: long rant ahead]

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