The daily COVID conversation column. Please keep it civil and informative.

I now have a personal experience with Covid-times.

We had a two week period of no air movement in the atmosphere. Meanwhile the weather has turned cold and people have lit up their wood stoves. There is a lot of wood burning heat in France even in Paris.

We had two wood stove smoke events: a two week long inversion with no air movement and lots of wood stove smoke; our own newly installed house stove had new but as we found out cheap single-wall in the house, leading to smoke leaks in the house.

Combined my overly sensitive respiratory track became inflamed and started swelling with incredible discomfort. We drove out to see what altitude would give us some relief. Our local hills were not high enough, so we headed west into the Madeline Mountains, a northern extension of the Massif Centrale.

We got to 850 meters and finally found some clear air. We also found a resort with wooden buildings and all-electric heat. It is off season but they were willing to let us rent by the week until the next storms come in.

While there we stopped for lunch in a small village, where people were moving about freely. In the village there were a lot of wood burners and my lungs began to tighten. We went to talk with a pharmacist, who was an old guy who didn't seem to understand what we needed.

He called the medicin en guard (night/weekend doctor), who was an older woman, who also couldn't understand me. Maybe we were in France Profund.

The next thing we saw was a SAMU - Sapeurs Pompiers (Fire fighters/EMT, Ambulance) The two young men invited me into the back where there was a gurney. They asked me to lie on it and tell them what was going on.

The 'ambulance' is very simple by US standards: no oxygen, no sign of rescue medications if needed; only a blood pressure/oximeter/heart rate monitor;

I told them about sensitivity to wood smoke and how constricted my lungs were. I tried to make sure they understood that without that problem I am strong, able to split wood and other things. All I needed was fresh air.

They asked if we had our COVID 'vaccines' (here I made a mistake) and I told them under doctors' advice, no. The driver was smirking. Then without being able to consult Mr. Meta, they closed the doors and started for the hospital in Vichy.

They asked a few basic questions. I showed them my ten year residence card and my Carte Vitale. The ride was twenty five minutes. I asked them if the hospital did a COVID rapid test and they said yes.

I tried to ask if Mr. Meta was following. I didn't understand the answer. My blood pressure was very high. I think the uncertainty and my basic intense dislike of hospitals and doctors in general had my anxiety pegged.

We arrived and they transfered me to a hospital gurney. What I saw next was a scene out of oh, I don't know, Dickens. Absolutely stuffed entrance area, with maybe forty or fifty people: some on gurney, some on hospital chairs, crammed into a small dim area.

Two people were admitting. Things were moving, or I should say, not moving much. I swear the old man next to my parking space was dying. The smell of death was there.

I started panicking. I was sure COVID was there. They were not screening nor distancing. And abulances from different groups were bringing more in by the minute.

I watched how things were going. The drivers did some paperwork and brought the bracelet to me. I told them I wasn't sick and wanted out. They left. I couldn't lie down. I stayed sitting up. People were there with various injuries and apparent sickness of some sort.

I finally talked with some ladies across from me who told me they had been there for three hours and it didn't look like anything was happening soon. I couldn't imaging I would get anything that would help my personal situation but might get a new problem I might not be able to handle.

The ladies could tell I wanted out and got an arriving ambulance driver to lower me so I could get off the gurney. I jumped off and went to the window. The two or three people there were frazzled, but finally reluctantly talked to me. I asked if it was possible that people there had COVID. They said yes. I told them I was not sick. They asked my name. I told them. (Shouldn't have as I might get charged whatever they decide to do.) I told them it was overcrowded and that they could have my spot. I said loudly so that people around me could hear - that there was no distancing, no protection (we all had masks, but...)and the not sick were mixed with the sick.

I headed for the waiting rooms and the exit. I met a lovely woman from Paris there, who I talked with about what was going on and why I was there. She said Paris air was worse, and that the hospital was no place to be.

Then luckily Mr. Meta showed up and took me away. I was terrified. When we got back to our cabin, we rinsed as much as we could our noses, throats and eyes. Took Ivermectin just in case.

The best thing that is happening this week is that backs against the wall I called a new French friend who was an architect and is my age. He speaks English quite well and I asked if he had time to listen to our plight. Explained the breathing/air problem and the hellish experience with the hospital. He said we could meet at his house which is quite close to ours. We were there in two hours.

He could see our distress, and our need of rescue. He is unusual in that no matter how complicated a situation is he takes it in stride. Then we learned some welcome and unexpected news: he is involved with a group of friends. They are all COVID shot not. The group includes several alternative healthcare professionals. He said they could open doors we might not otherwise know how to get to. He called one of his good friends and rather than meet at her cabinet, she invited us to her home. He explained what was going on and what we needed.

It was Mr. Meta's birthday which was not going well. His back is out, both of us were stressed and on our own. Suddenly, there was a group of intelligent well-read people who are in the French rural country side quietly living a very nice lifestyle. Lovely homes, camaraderie, interests, and willing to help. We are getting appointments to help sort our physical problems, they are in our nearest village. We were in town today, met our new friend and visited the lady we met the other night, got an osteopath for Mr. Meta and set an appointment for diagnosis/figuring out what might be the best help for me.

Everyone agrees it's too late to get a letter of exemption and we would not have gotten one anyway as we are not connected to a medicin traitant (primary care doctor) since we moved into our house. Also that hospitals are out.

Mr. Meta ended up having a better birthday than we expected: our Irish and British friend installed a new stove pipe - donating their time for his birthday. Our new friend talked with us and M. O. At the end of our visit she brought out champagne, a really good one, and shared it with us in honor of Mr. Meta's birthday.

They are encouraging us to believe we can get better and have a good life.

If anyone has the latest from Chris Martenson, FLCCC, or any other good podcast, please post links.

We have found one of the best interpreters of Ravel to be Pierre Boulez. My goodness he made some fabulous music.
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