I am Guilhem Méric, 51 years old author of novels specialized in imaginary worlds. Maybe to get away from the sometimes too toxic realities of everyday life. Today, however, I am living a hell.
It was about a year ago. After much hesitation, I followed the advice of a nurse friend and made an appointment to receive the first two doses of what the scientific, political and media doxa has decided to call the anti-Covid-19 vaccine.
It must be said that since March 2020, we had been terrorized day after day with the arrival of this new virus from China - more precisely from an animal market located in Wuhan, near a P4 laboratory handling SARS-type coronaviruses. The death toll was hammered out like clockwork at the beginning of every newscast, with epidemiologists and doctors who were used to the TV shows pounding us with figures and speculations on the contagiousness, symptoms and lethality of this famous SARS-COV-2. We have been confined to our houses, to our apartments, with the strict rule to be satisfied with a tube of Doliprane in case of symptoms and to wait until we are on the verge of asphyxiation to call the SAMU.
The psychosis spread to the whole population, maintained by the media with all the greed for sensationalism that we know. Moreover, the epidemic was worldwide. The whole society came to a standstill. The brains were anaesthetized by the overflow of information which, with time, contradicted each other without any of their peddlers coming to make their mea culpa. The French lost their Latin as well as their critical sense. Infantilized by our leaders, their minds short-circuited by emotion and self-blame, they lent themselves in spite of themselves to the strategy of mass manipulation brought to light by one of the most respected intellectuals in the world, Noam Chomsky.
I did not escape this steamroller, far from it. Hypochondriac for many years, obsessed by the fear of choking even by drinking a glass of water, I was literally tetanized at the announcement of the irruption of this virus which could attack the pulmonary tract and, on a roll of the dice, send me without a stopover to the hospital or to the morgue.
This is why, and I come back to this, when these new generation vaccines entered our lives, I found a remedy for my anxieties. Even if I was a little apprehensive about these products. Like many people, I was waiting for a traditional vaccine, based on a deactivated virus, the kind of thing I had been given since I was a child and which had proven to be safe all over the world. Thank you Mr. Pasteur.
So I was injected with this famous vaccine in May 2021, made in Pfizer. Two doses spaced over three weeks of mRNA. Apart from a little pain in the shoulder the first time, everything went like clockwork. You see," said my friend at the time, smiling, "it wasn't a big deal.
In fact, it was. The story started at that moment.
First with the appearance of slight paresthesias in my hands. I had trouble with the index finger of my right hand, for example, when cutting a piece of meat with my knife. I didn't pay too much attention to it until the pain spread to the fingers of both hands, accompanied by electrical sensations, especially in the pulp when I had to write on my smartphone. Gradually, it became difficult for me to grasp, pull, push objects, while I observed a moderate atrophy of the muscles of my hands. My skin was not left out either: hypersensitive to friction, it started to redden and hurt for anything and everything. It was as if I no longer had a "layer" of protection, the cartilages and ligaments were exposed. That's when I had to wear gloves to drive or wash my son's hair. Today, that's not even enough and I have to endure two days of burning sensations on my palms that only the contact with cold water can relieve.
Then the feet entered the game. With the same kind of paresthesias, burning sensation, tensions and pains that, with time, made it difficult for me to stand statically. I also noticed a slight atrophy of the muscles, to the point where I sometimes lose my balance. The problem has spread to my ankles, which become painful when I walk for more than an hour, with the ever-present fear of spraining one of them: my right foot sometimes "slips" to the side, something that never happened before.
I also noticed that my skin
was marked for a long time and deeply. It reddens very quickly, sometimes to the point of pain, just by leaning on something. A sweater sleeve against my hand, my PC leaning on my thighs, my phone in my hand can leave deep marks, sometimes comical, a bit like if my skin had turned into modeling clay. These marks eventually disappear after thirty minutes to an hour, without leaving a hematoma. I almost never leave my socks on, because the flesh of my feet can hardly stand the naked contact of the ground. Even a common carpet. Last summer, I had to wear shoes to walk on the sand. I used to love to dip my feet in the warm sand and run along the beach, but now I just sit on my towel and watch my son play until I have to leave.
So of course I consulted. GP, neurologists, rheumatologists, psychologist, endocrinologist... Without success. At least, without any result that would bring the beginning of a proof that something in me was out of order. So I consulted an internist - a sort of Dr House specialist in diseases with exotic names - who made me do a complete blood, neurological and EMG check-up:
Report: nothing. Nada.
However, my doctor suspects that there is
a neurological problem that would be working at a low level and therefore would not show up on the tests. So I have to have follow-up EMGs every six months, desperately waiting for a diagnosis. A name to put on my symptoms.
In the meantime, in this lovely month of May, too hot for the season, my hands and feet are on fire if I use them normally; my elbows, wrists and knees are sensitive to the slightest pressure, so much so that I sometimes find myself lying on my bed in the evening, suffering like a 110 year old grandpa, my hands boiling and irritated as if I had rubbed them on sandpaper for hours.
Needless to say, my physical condition has some impact on my morale. When you can't even carry a bag of groceries, slice potatoes, or walk through a store, it's hard to get into a job or even a relationship. You become a burden to yourself, who really doesn't need to feel like one in the eyes of others.
So is it all the vaccine's fault? Who can tell? Maybe in 5, 10 or 20 years, when the patents are lifted? When the medical, statistical and legal world will have taken enough distance from the abnormal frequency of rare pathologies that appeared after the mass vaccination of 2021?
All I know is that I was in perfect physical health before these injections. And that Pfizer, whose vaccine has been welcomed as the blood of Christ, has been fined repeatedly for fraudulent business practices, environmental and human rights violations, and more.
That's enough to make us wonder, as Bill Gates would say.
