The long story of how I became a car enthusiast in Norway. Part 4. “what had to happen, happened”

The days flew by quickly despite it being winter and there being a lot of snow. Every day began and ended with movement and travel. By movement I mean the long walks with the collie named Sami three times a day. And about travel by car I have already written in the previous chapter. The outlines of a new life abroad were taking shape. A husband, a house, a dog, a cat, and growing children.

I will not hide it: I felt an inner discomfort about the children. And when I was “really bad,” I would say to myself: “Auntie! They did not come to you, you came to them! Leave your pedagogical experience in the homeland and just become a beloved woman! Breathe deeper of the fresh air!”

And already the month of February was ending, and on 23 February they announced a holiday on the Norwegian courses, and my visa was running out at the beginning of March, and I had already said goodbye to the teachers and the group at the last class, walked about 100 metres, slipped (under the snow there was ice on the road), fell, and classmates and a woman who ran out of a car started to pick me up. They sat me, half-conscious, in the car, and she drove me to the nearest medical post.

There the administrator from the “window” immediately told me the sum to pay — 200 kroner (20 euros) — before the doctor would see me. Luckily Ivan was working in the same town; I called him and he came. The doctor received me and “only looked.” He said I needed to go to hospital for an X-ray, and that was 30 km to the town of Arendal. Ivan paid for the appointment and drove me, frightened and half-unconscious, along the snowy road to the hospital.

At the hospital they were not in much of a hurry either. Ivan conscientiously paid for every process “on the spot” with a bank card. It was a fracture of the right arm with displacement. They decided not to operate, but to do traction and put on a cast. We came home late.

I opened my insurance policy, bought in Ukraine, and called the number given. A polite male voice from Russia asked me several questions and noted that I should have called at once, as soon as my trouble happened, and not in the evening. I thought then that in Ukraine they would not even give me “a scrap of wool.”

A week later we came to the hospital and they put a beautiful cast on me again, not free of charge. And already on 3 March, with my right arm raised high, in the pose “I vote for peace in the whole world!”, I departed for the homeland.