On this date in 2005, I posted my first item on this blog: H5N1: Bird flu infects nurses. This site was a sideline, an attempt to educate myself about a little-known but threatening new disease. My real interests were in blogging about how to write fiction, how to write for the web, and answering questions about English usage.
But as time passed, H5N1 and then other outbreaks took up more and more of my attention. I became part of a little group called Flublogia; many of the early bloggers are gone now, but a few like
Mike Coston and
FluTrackers are still very active indeed.
And with every emerging disease, experts emerged to battle them, along with a growing group of superb health journalists and science writers. Flublogia made itself useful by digging up stuff from obscure corners of the internet and passing it along to people who could make sense of it (or dismiss it as a scare). I think of Flublogia as a kind of Baker Street Irregulars, kids doing rudimentary epidemic intelligence for the "grownups"—the scientists and public health experts. The grownups are often politically constrained from saying rude things about their political masters, a constraint we street urchins are free of.
Each outbreak has been scary at some point, and then faded out. Sometimes I thought Flublogia was like the odd group in the
Beyond the Fringe sketch, waiting day after day for the end of the world: "Never mind lads, we must get a winner some day."
Well, we do seem to have a winner now. I saw a doctor in my clinic today (after an hour's wait), just to get some prescriptions renewed. He's Iranian, he was wearing a mask, and he told me he's never seen anything like this in his 20 years of practice.
I think I caught a thousand-yard stare in his eyes, the kind I used to see in Canadian students who'd fought in Vietnam or Afghanistan, or an Italian doctor who'd worked in "the pandemic": H1N1 had been considered a joke by the public, but not by those who cared for the victims.
Sheltered though I am, I can imagine that stare in my own eyes by the time this is over. At 79 I'm very aware that I'm a target in a target-rich demographic: those over 60. This afternoon a West Vancouver retirement home announced two new COVID-19 cases, one in a staffer and one in a resident—a home where a loved family friend lives. As the cliché has it, it's getting up close and personal.
My personal trainer, an Aussie shepherd, makes sure I stop poisoning myself with screen time by taking me for regular walks in our local woods three or four times a day. You may find it helpful seek similar professional help.
COVID-19 is in my opinion the biggest world event of my lifetime since V-J Day, which I recall as a four-year-old wondering why so many car horns were honking in the distance. The wars of 75 years, the missile crisis, the flu pandemic of 1957, 9/11—a virus we didn't even know existed last fall has called into question everything that we've built up since V-J day.
And like all those lesser events, those who learned from them were the survivors. I hope to be a survivor, and I hope you are too.
Go walk the dog.
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