When I got to the house the first time after it had sat (almost) empty for months, both courtyards were a sea of mid-thigh high deep rooted thistles, the kind that insist on populating my mother-in-law’s field and torturing my brother-in-law Alex who, like me, is a compulsive weeder. They had sprouted within the bushes and parking area with equal enthusiasm, so I got to work. I wore gloves and filled wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow with them and as many of their roots as I could extract with various drills and other fairly scary tools. There were other weeds, too, but the thistles had it. And I got them all. The next year was something else, and each year thereafter I have eradicated something, only to be greeted by a new volunteer the following spring.
I tried my traditional remedy of vinegar, liquid soap, and salt, which shrivels the leaves but leaves the roots intact, and ready for even more robust growth it seems. When I finally broke down enough to buy organic herbicide it just did the same. So I hand-pull weeds, and my sister and other gardener visitors have graciously stepped in to help.
Weeding is quite relaxing actually, and a nice break from writing. I find a lot of satisfaction in actually clearing a patch of gravel back to the stones. My friend Wendy and I cleared strips across the courtyard in early summer 2024 and it looked pristine for a few weeks until the next batch of volunteer weeds arrived. Clearing the courtyard looks set to be my lifelong challenge, but it is a great excuse to be outside and stretching.
This year the warm autumn delivered a new crop that I vaguely recognized but did not look up. Delicate pale green stems about 6 inches high are topped with a crown of little branches and leaves where I assume there will be flowers later. They pull up quite easily as they haven’t had much time to settle. I started pulling them very randomly along with clover and dandelions when the days got warm and our visitors started leaving, and yesterday I did the same. It was warm and sunny and I needed an excuse to be outside, so when I finished my breakfast I set about clearing this stuff from the band of gravel at the front of the house.
Don’t rub your eyes…
Part way in I felt some dust in my eye, but my hands were dirty so I tried to ignore it. Finally I went inside, rinsed off the dirt and blew my nose (age old cure to shift foreign objects in the eyes). A little while later I was aware that I was rubbing my eye, and suddenly a burning pain almost floored me. Now why I rubbed again will forever remain a mystery, and by then it was probably too late.
I rinsed with saline solution. Felt good briefly but no relief. It hurt as much regardless of where I moved my eye or lifted my eyelid so not a foreign body (I’ve been there!) Maybe a bug bite? The burning was intense, and reminded me of hot pepper so I tried a milk bath. It felt good, but didn’t touch the pain.
We went to my mother-in-law’s house because mother’s always know. She gave me eye drops that felt like pure acid, then saline solution which helped a bit but didn’t touch the waves of stabbing pain and burning. One of the amazing women who help her took a look. Nothing except redness.
Photos credit: ovanantwerpen, used under CC-BY-SA-4.0 / (cropped and compressed from original) by Picture Insect app.
On the way there I stopped to snap a picture of the weed, just in case. And “Picture This” (an app as amazing as Merlin Bird ID, and Picture Insect all three of which should be on everyone’s phone) revealed the probable issue: my little weed was petty spurge (Euphorbia peplus, in French asclépiade), a milkweed, although it only grows to about 8 inches. Milkweed, in addition to harboring Monarch butterflies and providing the only home for their eggs and larvae, produces a white latex sap that is, you guessed, toxic. That same toxic latex is in all of its relatives, and Google tells me, has historically been used for removing warts and even in cancer treatment. I get that. It is also what helps to reduce the number of predators for Monarch butterflies whose caterpillars feed on the plant and build up bad tasting toxicity (learn more via Wikipedia)!
Based on the number of websites, I think my experience was not unusual, although apparently doctors who are not gardeners are often mystified when patients present with this form of ocular toxicity. In general, the latex in this family of plants may produce blisters and a rash may grace the gardener’s skin, although I have never had a skin reaction. But in the eye: burning, waves of stabbing pain, light sensitivity, incredible dryness, and sometimes blurry vision. Yup. That’s the description. The internet informs me that in really bad cases Keratouveitis can temporarily damage the cornea.
Better not to get sick in France on a Sunday…
Charlotte, one of Andrée’s caregivers, called #15 (the French 911/999), whose on call EMS providers said to treat it for 15 minutes with a saline wash, and if it still hurt, or hurt more after an hour we must go to the emergency optical unit at the hospital. On Sundays, the only option is a 90 minute drive to Toulouse. So that’s how I spent a lovely afternoon in the Unité C3 – Opthalmologie Urgences. They dripped liquid anesthetic in my eye upon arrival, and told me I’d need a tetanus shot, too. The anesthetic took away the stabbing pain and some of the burning, leaving me with an eye full of sand, but feeling much better. The waiting room was full, mostly with more visible eye problems than mine, and the promised one hour wait because almost three.
The consultation was brief, but thorough. All the things Google said could have happened to my cornea seem not to have happened. He decided it could be a virus (city boy not a gardener? There are lots of medical case studies online trying to educate doctors to consider milkweed toxicity). I inquired about the “herbe” and he said he wanted to treat it like a virus because it could be one (a form of herpes apparently). End of case. The folks at #15 said if there was no serious damage I’d feel myself in 10 days or so. Two of the three prescriptions the eye doc gave me are 4 times a day for 15 days; one for a month, “as needed.”
We arrived Urgences at 14:20 and left at 17:30, with the three prescriptions. The Sunday emergency pharmacy in Albi was closed, so we treated ourselves to Chinese food instead as there is none close to us. Then we headed home where a little of Juan Carlos’ eau de vie helped me to fall sleep before the anesthetic wore off.
Monday morning I set off to the pharmacie in Cordes, DeepL translation of my story and questions in hand and my amazing SIL Françoise by my side to translate what I didn’t understand. The pharmacist had heard of toxic herbes and told me what each of the prescriptions was for and how it might help (medicated eye wash, antibacterial drops, and something to moisturize as needed). She said that would be the best treatment and the soothing drops would really help. Then she apologized about the price of the medicines and told me that when I get my medical card the charge will be reimbursed, or maybe I could charge them to my American insurance or the British National Health care? She gave me the form just in case. I braced myself for the bill. €27.50. Some things about living in France are pretty amazing. Hospital emergency rooms may be few and far between on Sundays, but the health care is excellent and almost free. I would feel guilty using my husband’s medical health ID and getting this for free, but honestly why should I exploit such a generous system? My co-pay in the US for each of the three medications would be more than the total I paid in France.
Update March 16: It took well into 2026, but I am pretty much back to normal now. My eyes still get dry and the eyedrops feel good, but that could be the stove and dry air heating. The left eye still gets tired and seems a bit blurry but that may not be new–I’m very overdue for an eye test, so I’ll do that when I get to the US to double check (probably need new glasses).
Update May 10: Eye test complete. Optomap imaging of the cornea shows it and the optical nerve and blood vessels feeding it are fine. No long term damage, but the eye is clearly still irritated, so eye drops prescribed. “Time healed” . . . almost. All I have left is dry and slightly more sensitive eyes a good story.
The bill: Without any French discount (although they gave me forms for claiming through the NHS or my American insurance, which I don’t think I can): €71.34. That’s treatment in the Opthalmologie emergencies area of a major hospital in Toulouse, local anesthetic, consultation with a an eye specialist and eye exam, and prescriptions. I guess if a gardener is going to be stupid, better to do it in France.
Takeaway? Wear gloves when you weed the garden, and don’t rub your eyes!
