So, I visited the Vårdcentralen today. That’s the clinic where you go for visiting the doctor or, in my case today, the sjuksköterska, which is a quite difficult word to pronounce but is, in fact, the Swedish word for nurse. And I have to say, the entire experience was very pleasant.
The building itself is very comfortable, the receptionist couldn’t have been more helpful and the nurse…well, apart from the scraping of the wound, she was excellent. Now, I merely mention the scraping because it was far from pleasant. She apologized profusely about the possible pain but it had to be done in order to improve the healing. I grinned and bore it.
Apart from that, she declared there was no infection. She did send a bit of the stuff she scraped off for a biopsy in order to find out what it was. It’ll no doubt be a mystery. Or a miracle drug that will cure the world of all known ills. Like carmania. Or racism. Or maybe, even, capitalism.
As well as the scraping then binding of the wound, we chatted about what had brought us to Trosa. She was born and brought up in the north of Sweden but had then moved to Stockholm to work. She moved to Trosa about six years ago and loves it as much as I do. When I told her I was Australian, she smiled and said I’d come a bit further than her.
Finally, foot bound and happier, she booked me for a couple more visits before bidding me farewell. The receptionist also gave me a cheery wave as I left.
Back in the car, Mirinda told me that almost everyone that went in and came out of the hospital used a walking stick. I said that was proof I was in the right place. And then, a treat. We had lunch at Tre Små Rum.
While waiting for Mirinda to deposit one of Emma’s deposits in a bin, I realised it was the first time I’d seen the centre of Trosa with snow on the ground.
When we came with Amanda back in March, it was just cold and grey. Now we have a light dusting of snow and the appearance of Christmas lights.
We sat down in the gloriously cosy café and ordered a hearty goulash soup each.
The girls were intrigued by the Newfoundland that was lounging around on the floor. Freya almost stood a little bit close to the big swishing tail. Actually, given Freya doesn’t normally see big things (she notoriously doesn’t see cows) I was surprised she saw the Newfoundland.
Two little kids certainly saw it. They gave the big dog a wide berth while passing by. For no reason other than size, I should add. The dog was perfectly well-behaved. She didn’t even have a lead. The owner had perfect control over his dog.
On the way home, Mirinda stopped off at the hardware place opposite the ICA and bought us some Christmas lights for the window sills in the house. I think they make the house look warm and inviting.
Now we just need one of those typically Swedish, big lit stars in the glassroom. And long strings of fairy lights, of course.
