Day 42: Small wins.

The US just hit 1 million cases, and worldwide, the number of cases has hit 3 million, with just over 200 000 deaths. There has been an alarming rise in the number of people drinking bleach and, it seems likely, a corresponding increase in the number of Darwin awards to be given out this year.

Over here in my corner of the world, even though we have nearly 25 000 dead and 165 000 active cases, the rate of hospitalisations is continuing to decline, including those on reanimation (ventilation/life support). This is giving some hope that our efforts over the last 42 days are having some effect.

Back home, kiwis are already enjoying coming out of lockdown, even if it is just to level 3. Wellingtonians will at last be able to get their coffee fix as cafes can open for takeaway. I confess to being a little envious. Life will soon return to normal in New Zealand, although I imagine borders will remain closed or strictly controlled for a while yet.

I’m saddened by the businesses in my village that have closed for good. Weighing up the effects on the economy with preservation of life is of course obvious, but it is still sad to see the changing face of my locals and the financial troubles those little business owners are now in. France is fiercely protective of “Buy local” and with good reason – the quality is just so good.

Tomorrow at 3pm we hear our fate. What will our coming-out-of-lockdown plan look like? It won’t look like New Zealand’s. The Government is terrified of a second wave like Singapore’s. So it will be a cautious plan that will see us in some form of lockdown for some months yet.

On the plus side I got to touch a real live person today. Yes, actually touch them. Well, they touched me. A strange feeling. Ok so it was a doctor, but that in itself was a miracle too. Even before lockdown doctors in my area are scarce and not taking on new patients.

I needed a physical check-up for my repeat prescription. I tried every doctor online but if you are not already a patient, they are only doing online consultations. Cursed myself for the 237th time for not cementing in place my change of treating doctor once I arrived here.

Fortunately, the Government introduced a rule that you could go straight to a pharmacy to get your prescription filled even if it was an old one. Apparently my June 2019 one was just that little bit too old and the pharmacist gave me a big explanation of the rules relating to the rule.

I have learned that the french always say no at first. So I persisted, apologised for my level of french, played the newly-arrived foreigner card, and engaged her in a “Isn’t it terribly complicated right now” conversation about how tough it was for health professionals and how valuable her assistance would be in helping me settle in. Before too long I was walking out with my medication and a list of doctors in my area that I could try, together with the after hours doctors telephone number just in case.

Luckily I had talked to a doctor last year whose cabinet happened to be next to my apartment. She agreed to take me on but turns out hadn’t registered me online and had said she’d do the paperwork during a first appointment. Which of course I didn’t make before lockdown.

I took a breath and phoned to beg for a physical appointment. The secretary tried every type of no, including trying to scare me off by getting me to detail exactly what was wrong with me and then arguing with me about it. I decided to embellish the symptoms a smidge to the point where it would be considered essential to be seen physically otherwise there was a risk I may pass out, alone in my apartment. It would be you, Madame Docteur’s Secretary, who would be at fault.

An hour later I was in the doctor’s office. The doctor had one of those duckbill-shaped masks on, and was head to toe in plastic. She gave me a bottle of what seemed like paintstripper to wash my hands with. Then, like magic, she touched me. Just to put the blood pressure cuff on and listen to my heart rate. But still. Someone was within one metre of me for the first time in a very long time. Plus I got a new prescription. Plus the signed form to change my doctor officially. Plus I was registered online at her practice. I officially have a doctor! In lockdown! Who touched me!

Small wins indeed today.