Just what the doctor ordered

After a day and a half of stomach cramps and frequent visits to the bathroom, I thought it was about time to visit a doctor instead. From work (I thought I could manage a day...) the driver took me to a pleasant doctor right on Mohammed 5. As the driver left me in the waiting room, all I could think was 'English?'. Finally the doctor arrived and I was ushered in.
"Parlez Anglias?" I asked in French, already knowing I was dooomed.
"No, French."
Ok, with a bit of universal sign language, pointing at my stomach accompanied with 'malade', it was time to hop on the examination table for some prodding. Just in case my vocabulary couldn't describe it, my stomach let out an enormous groan which transecnded French, Moroccan and English and told the whole story.
Then came the prescriptions. "Mange quarot" he said.
"Hmm, quar ot? Je ne sais pas." Eat what? Oh, carrots, yes, I ate carrots the other day, so no carrots?
"Non, mange, mange carrots et riz!"
Ok. Yes, carrots, rice, couscous, tajine, sashay? Huh, no dancing? Oh yes, satchet of powder after eating, yes, oui.
With a never endng prescription in my hand my visit came to an end.
Shukrun, I said with a handshake. Thankyou, he replied.

I went to the pharmacy where they deciphered the doctors code and handed me 4 lots of medication. I guess I was on my own with the carrots and rice.