SOS

The new year threw me a curve ball. I started this Nouvellettre® more than a week ago before all hell broke loose. The bottom line of the following story is that I am grateful to the French medical system for being alive now…and telling this tale, for a host of reasons. Most importantly, never once having to think about cost, insurance, or any of the things that might be stressful in such a situation. It was never a question by anyone and I had complete and full care without any question. As long as I had my Carte Vitale, I was good to go. And even if I didn’t, I would never have been turned away.
Now, read on if you like…
Shortly after the new year, I fell ill with an influenza virus. No, I hadn’t been vaccinated for it, but I’ve been told by my doctor that this year the vaccinations haven’t been as effective as they’d hoped and my assistant, Diane, came down sick the same day, and she had been vaccinated. She recovered relatively quickly, within a few days.
By Sunday, without the ability to leave the bed, I sought out medical attention. My own doctor who does online video consultations wasn’t available until Tuesday. Instead I opted for an in person appointment with France’s amazing medical system that allows a doctor to either come to your home or do a video call appointment for a very minimal cost. It’s called SOS Médecins.
SOS is in most major cities and regions of France, but when you think about living in France and want to avoid being in a medical dessert, you might want to review this map to ensure your coverage.
An online video appointment cost a “whopping” 30€ and this one in person was under 60€. It’s covered by French social security. The doctor came on Monday morning like clockwork, took a special test to determine what I had and as suspected, it was not Covid, but Flu A. That was pretty cool and it helped her to prescribe a regiment of drugs that would relieve some of the symptoms.
Influenza is a contagious respiratory infection caused by influenza viruses, distinct from flu-like syndromes caused by other viruses like rhinovirus or respiratory syntactical virus. In temperate climates like France, flu epidemics occur annually between November and April, often starting in late December or early January, lasting about 10–11 weeks.
Influenza types A and B drive seasonal epidemics. Type A can cause pandemics due to genetic shifts creating new, unprotected strains. Spread occurs through respiratory droplets or contact with contaminated objects. The virus survives for minutes to days on surfaces. So, it’s very contagious. Symptoms typically appear 1–3 days after infection, but individuals can be contagious even before the symptoms appear.
The Influenza and COVID-19 Vaccination Campaign in France began October 15th. I received a notice to go to any pharmacy to get the vaccine, but ended up too busy and traveling too much to take advantage of it. That was obviously not a good idea, because the vaccination targets individuals aged 65 and older (me), people under 65 with chronic conditions (including children aged 6 months and up), pregnant women, those with obesity, and residents of care or nursing homes, regardless of age.
Now more than one week later, and still feeling the effects, I can tell you that I wish I had paid more attention to the vaccination. This one really knocked me for a loop, rendering me virtually unable to leave my bed for more than a week. In the meantime I consulted with my own doctor and again with SOS. My entire body ached. I was very weak. I had no appetite and couldn’t hold down much. The cough was never-ending and wouldn’t allow a bit of peaceful sleep. I felt as if I was losing my mind.
The agenda was filled. I had a chock-a-block schedule filled with client consultations, dinners with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time and tickets to several art exhibitions. Everything had to be cancelled or moved, which is quite a bit of work for my staff, but more than that, missing it all was not what I had in mind for the three weeks I had in Paris before heading down to Nice. I was really hoping to take advantage of all the city had to offer at this time of year. No go.
At the same time, the L.A. fires were raging and I was trying to keep up with all of my family and friends affected by them. Watching the devastation on TV made the illness seem like nothing by comparison. At least I was not being evacuated from my home, nor watching it burn down to the ground. My heart goes out to everyone there who is dealing with that—a much more serious experience. Meanwhile I felt like I was dying.
Early Saturday morning, my generalist suggested strongly to call 15 SAMU, the medical emergency number. Without question, I was told they would send an ambulance in about 45 minutes, and to pack a few things. Fortunately, I’m always pretty prepared to travel at the drop of a hat and threw into a rolling bag a change of pajamas, clothing to go home in and toiletries along with electronic essentials…computer, etc. (Take note for when this happens to you: the one thing I thought about, but didn’t throw in, and wish I had, was an eyemask! This is not something the hospitals provide to their “guests.”) The rolling bag was a bit of a joke as the kind gentlemen asked me if I was “en vacances,” but it was the smartest thing to do. I was prepared for anything.
They took me to the closest hospital, Hôpital Lariboisière, located in the 10th arrondissement just west of the Gare du Nord. I’d never even heard of it nor seen it before. The hospital was built between 1846 and 1853, designed by architect Pierre Gauthier, with six buildings arranged around a central courtyard and connected by colonnaded walkways. Its construction followed the second cholera pandemic, which struck Paris in 1832 and highlighted the need for improved hospital hygiene. The site also features a funeral monument by Carlo Marochetti honoring Élisa de Lariboisière, whose significant financial contribution made the hospital’s construction possible. It serves as a teaching facility for Université Paris Cité.

The Hôpital Lariboisière
There was no waiting in the emergency room. Immediately they started testing, prodding, poking, asking questions, etc. X-rays were taken. You name it, I was getting it. By the end of the afternoon they wheeled me into a room in ICU, completely connected to a variety of tubes to administer drugs, oxygen and hydration. ICU was in the lower basement and upon entry I joked about “la belle vue”—a concrete wall with holes, but that was no care of mine. I felt very lucky to be alive and in their care.
One of the orderlies who was very kind told me there were about 15 other patients like me there. I have no idea if that was true or not, but flu cases have been surging across Europe following the holiday season, with children under 15 and adults over 60 being the hardest hit. Hospitals in France and Spain are reporting a sharp rise in admissions, with influenza B as the dominant strain. To cope with the influx, many hospitals have established temporary units to ease the pressure on emergency departments. Elderly patients, in particular, face a heightened risk of severe respiratory complications. Dr. Jean-Luc Leymarie, a French general practitioner, remarked, “This is the most significant epidemic I’ve seen in years.”
During the course of the treatment, I was moved first to a higher level of ICU, meaning less intensive, but only on the other side of the aisle, and then by Tuesday they transported me and all of my “vacation” belongings out of ICU to a private room above ground with a slightly more interesting view…construction on the building next door watching the workers daily. This took on a new level of living and life started to look possible again. Two major highlights were the ability to have normal bodily functions (I will not elaborate) and have a kind Asian woman put me under a warm shower, scrub my body and wash my hair. I must have thanked her 100 times to have been rejuvenated that way…this after just having spent several days at a spa in Djerba! (Funny turn of events, I kept thinking.) And that day was the turning point to health and freedom.
It is highly possible that as you read this, I will have been released from the hospital. This would not have been without “ré-eduation” of my lungs for deeper breathing, ability to walk and gain strength. They were not tossing me out the door until fully ready to meet the world again.
I really have no comparisons to make with healthcare elsewhere, particularly in the U.S. as I have no experience with it, but going back to the beginning of this missive, the fact that the expense of it all was never a question made the biggest impression on me. They just did what they had to do to get me well again. Period. No one worried about how many days I might need to be there, or how much staff it took to make it right. The staff were all pleasant, not effusive, but not indifferent, either. They came in all shapes, sizes and colors, mostly under 50, with a large proportion of women. As a teaching hospital, I happily allowed the students to come in, ask questions and observe. They were particularly adorable and I was happy to oblige them.
The food was what one might expect in a hospital in France—each day/meal I was served a different plate consisting of a protein, vegetables and starch, with fresh fruit, yogurts, fruit compotes, bread. It was no gourmet delight, but it was by no means objectionable. Each day my appetite grew better and I could feel the strength rising.
My level of French at this stage made it manageable. Those who could speak English happily assisted and those who could not did not mind repeating their questions or something I hadn’t understood. I learned some new terms while speaking French all week long and ameliorating my level.
Unable to think beyond typing or dictating a text message or two until now when I write this, for hours on end contemplated my life. It was a kind of meditation. The dreams, nightmares and hallucinations were a fascinating part of the experience. All I wanted to do was sleep, and stay alive. The hospital and staff made that happen.
And to all of you, family, friends and clients, know that your outpouring of support and well wishes did not go unnoticed. Thank you all. I am truly blessed.
A la prochaine…
Adrian Leeds
The Adrian Leeds Group®
P.S. During my time in the hospital, good news came in that the Arte segment I filmed with friends last June finally aired: “Cajun Crawfish Voyage.” You can watch it on Arte these ways:
• Arte
• YouTube
• And if not within France or with a VPN, you can view it on my Vimeo channel
Note: Arte (Association Relative à la Télévision Européenne, or Association for European Television) is a European public service channel focused on culture. It operates through three entities: the European Economic Interest Grouping (EEIG) ARTE, based in Strasbourg, and two member companies that serve as editorial and production hubs—ARTE France in Paris (formerly La Sept) and ARTE Deutschland in Baden-Baden, a subsidiary of Germany’s public broadcasters ARD and ZDF.
To read more, click the links below.