It seems like the attacks are never going to quit.
Not only that, but now the attacks are coming from other places…places we’d never think to look.
First, an extremist group took out the twin towers.
Then the Chinese came at us with SARs.
Birds were the next to attack.
And finally pigs are our newest enemy.
Ok, so maybe that was a *tad* dramatic, but when I hear my sister talk about wearing a surgical mask on her next flight to Denmark, it’s hard to look at her with a straight face.
However, this “germophobe” transition our country has finally come to seems to be a tad out of control.
I appreciate good hygiene as much as the next person. I bathe, brush my teeth (sometimes I floss), and like to look nice (unless it’s a Sunday, and then ALL bets are off! A flesh-eating zombie has better hygiene than me). But I think we’re taking it a little too far.
Example: Anti-bacteria hand lotion. It is everywhere nowadays! Yes, it’s an effective corner-cutter for if you’re in a hurry or have just been sneezed on, but in my opinion, people abuse this stuff. Just because you see a person sneezing doesn’t mean you need to douse yourself in this stuff or hurry home and luxuriate in a nice tub of anti-bacterial cleanser.
In fact, it’s probably not the sneezing person who’s going to launch a fail-scale attack against your immune system. The attack is probably going to come from the perfectly happy, healthy, smiling person who holds his hand out to you by way of greeting (Note: this does not mean you need to break out the Purell after shakings hands with every person you meet). It just means use some common sense and maybe, just maybe, keep your fingers out of your mouth.
In a pinch, this anti-bacterial stuff is a good idea, but relying on it…I’m not so sure.
Take this for example:
When I was a kid (and seriously it wasn’t quite THAT long ago) you went outside and played and came in and ate. Now kids go outside and play then come inside and form a line at the anti-bacterial lotion dispenser and then eat their food.
And guess what! Kids still get sick.
I wonder why that is? Maybe because viruses and bacteria and fungi are smaller than you can imagine! While they lack a brain, they are a living organism and like all organisms they have the drive to survive (Drive to Survive was the name of my Online Defensive Driving class! I knew it was stupid, but it does come in handy when you need a rhyme).
Want to know something cool about a virus? If it’s RNA based, it can change it’s shape and confuse those witchy white blood cells. No matter how many fancy flu shots you receive, if the virus suddenly changes its appearance, you will not be protected.
Please note that I am not telling you that a flu shot is worthless. It will help your immune system tremendously, but you have to remember, the shot only works if things go according to plan (Like the virus doesn’t change shape). The one thing I can tell you about plans is that they tend to go awry. And you don’t need me to tell you that. I’m sure any former president or ruler would gladly agree with me.
So, what I am rather ramblingly trying to say is that there’s a such thing are overkill.
Back to Andrea and the surgical mask.
“I’m calling Dr. J and asking him for his surgical masks,” Andrea stated last night. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care, I’m wearing it. I’m not having some European give me that Swine Flu.”
“Mexicans are the reason why have Swine Flu, not the European.” I say to wanting to badly to say instead “Ok, Howie Mandel, why not just wear gloves permanently, never shake anyone’s hand and step into a decontamination chamber before entering your completely germ-free house at night, psycho!”
There’s silence as Andrea gives me a dirty look. “Well, SARS or Bird Flu. I can get something. Have you seen some of the people on flights? Not the cleanest.”
Yeah, well neither are quite a few of the people that inhabit this Earth. “So, you’re going to wear a surgical mask?”
“Yes,” she says in rather put-out tone as if she is the completely reasonable one and I am the idiot.
If I wasn’t so tired and she so stubborn, I would point out how freaky it would be to see someone with a surgical mask on an airplane, but I let her live in her little fantasy. At least for the night. Why give Mr. Mandel nightmares about this microscopic organisms that are secretly plotting the next attack against him.
In the morning, I get to work and read a little health article about Swine Flu and how really you need to only be worried if you’re traveling to Mexico and how *gasp* surgical masks aren’t that effective because your hands can always pick up the germs somehow.
If Andrea is browsing the trash tabloids at the Duty Free, she may come in to contact with Swine Flu. And if she rubs her eyes, nose, or mouth with those contaminated hands, no surgical mask will magically keep her healthy.
So I tell her all this and go into the little surgical mask diatribe I would’ve shared with her last night had it not been my bed time.
“For the record,” I say, “If some asshole sat down next to me with a surgical mask, I would request another seat from the stewardess and the plane would not take off until I was safely ensconced in a seat next to someone without SARS because a surgical mask on a plane equals SARS and as a perfectly healthy adult with a gung-ho immune system, I’d be the first to die (Note: healthy immune systems are a negative when you contact SARS meaning your white blood cells get a little overzealous, and that zeal will ultimately kill).
“Well, maybe,” she says, but I cut her off.
“And if I had to sit next to the surgical mask wearing SARS infected asshole who has to travel and infect us all, they better keep hands, legs, appendages, snot, saliva, and everything else to themselves. And they WILL NOT be granted use of the armrest.” In my airline travel rules, if you are carrying a communicable disease that is known to kill, you automatically forfeit any rights to an armrest. That will just spread more germs.
“Well,” Andrea says a little sulkily now, “I guess I’ll just go out and buy a big thing of Purell and keep my area cleaned.”
“Or,” I say and then pause, “How about going out and buying a big plastic bubble.”
There’s silence as she digests what I said. “I hate you,” she says. “I thought you were being serious, that you were going to give me an honest solution, but no, you tell me to live in a bubble!”
She may laugh. But honestly, are we that far off from living in a bubble?
Because, I can tell you from my experience watching Jurassic Park and the very wise logic of mathematician//chaotician Dr. Ian Malcolm “Life will find a way.”
Those little germs we work so hard to vanquish will grow, mutate, and evolve until no anti-viral/anti-bacterial lotion on earth will stop them. There’s a reason why they are the oldest living organisms on the planet. And they will continue to grow and thrive. I mean, look at the Jurassic Park dinosaurs. They were all programmed to be female…but eggs still hatched because some South American frogs have been known to change sexes so life can find a way.
Anyway, I don’t believe overmedication and anti-viral/anti-bacterial lotions are the answer. Simply wash your hands, keep your hands out of your nose and mouth, and don’t touch your shit or anyone else’s shit for that matter. There’s a reason why it was expelled from your body.
And if those rules of common sense don’t work for you…Well, I suggest a plastic bubble.
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