Petit Garçon

As you enter through the back entrance of the tiny Normandy hospital, just past the vending machines, you face a choice: Turn left to Maternitè or right to Oncologie, and—beyond Oncologie—Radiologie.

I thankfully choose left.

But for a missing testicle, my son is healthy!

We follow the nurse for an exploratory echograph. No biggie, the ball is loosely stuck and will eventually descend.

Gratefully, we return past the slouching oncology patients—diagonally punctured with needles attached to clear-colored tubes attached to beeping medical devices on wheels—I realize how much I’d enjoy a cold Orangina from the vending machine.