a clearing in the jungle

After having nimbly navigated the medical and therapeutic adventures my maladroitness (maladresse for those who don't like to mangle the original) caused me, I was bracing for what I thought would be the real challenge – bushwhacking the impenetrable thicket that is the Social Security administration in order to get reimbursed for my expenses. I have to say that I was none to keen. First, because I like my life simple and second, because my expenses had been ridiculously low.

The hospital where I had my tendon sutured kept sending me bills asking for puny amounts: 6.30, 13.30, 13.03 (I'm not making this up!) and 7.57. I paid, and the case was closed for me. Then came Alain, the kinesitherapist. He politely asked for 214.20 euros (even that's a bargain for 15 sessions) but promised I would be reimbursed automatically by my health and secondary insurances. I was mildly skeptical, especially since I didn't remember having ever told him my secondary insurance information. He didn't even give me a receipt, so I had to believe.

Today, not two weeks after I paid Alain, I found two money transfers in my checking account, numbers that didn't make sense to me but added up to, you guess it already, exactly 214.20 euros. To say I was floored is to put it mildly. Should this reimbursement system actually work, and work this painlessly?

I went to our secretary to ask her what I would have to do to be reimbursed for hospital fees. Not having to know the trivialities (it's my insurance, after all) of life is a prerogative all foreigners enjoy, and I milk it for all it's worth. The secretary told me to stuff the receipts into an envelope, write the name of the insurance on it, and place it into the institute's internal mail box. Someone would come pick it up and send it in. Music in my ears! Is this still the same country universally (and not just globally) notorious for its Kafkaesque bureaucracy? What bureaucracy?