I’ve been following the news of the coronavirus since mid-February or so – whenever it became apparent that it was spreading beyond Wuhan, China. I have a casual interest in infectious disease, developed over several years contracting to different parts of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services and reading the news releases that crossed my desk.
So, I kept up with the news coming out of China and was surprised when Wuhan put the entire city on lockdown. I was aware that HHS agencies had disaster plans in place for pandemics but the possibility of it hitting Stateside seemed vague and distant, very can’t happen here.
But my husband is a risk management professional and was on high alert. He stocked up on hand sanitizer and masks as early as January. I scoffed a bit, but as guidance came out of CDC I started washing my hands for those carefully counted 20 seconds (pft to happy birthday! Calling back to my teenage goth years I’ve been counting my “hey now now”s). But what really brought it home was my competition this weekend.
Understand: fencing is not a full-contact sport. Indeed, the objective is to not let your opponent get that close (infighting notwithstanding). I was sanguine. My husband was not. Though the US Fencing Association has suspended the handshaking rule you’ve still got a lot of people breathing hard and sweating in a relatively confined space.
And though it chafed, I had to admit he had a point. The virus continues to spread and we can’t be confident just how far because of the Trump administration’s message mismanagement.
I went. I fenced incredibly well. I slathered hand sanitizer on my hands, my glove, my mask, hell, even my body cord and reel plug. And I am fine.
But much as I want to keep this good roll going I probably shouldn’t. Not because I’ll get sick—even if I do, I’m healthy enough to weather it—but because if I do I might unwittingly pass it on to someone more vulnerable.
I’m sure half of you reading are rolling their eyes. But it’s just like flu, I hear you say. You’re being paranoid. Bring back the weird news and writing tips! And I get it: nobody wants to be that wild-eyed doomsday prepper. And none of us have ever had to seriously consider the spread of a disease for which we have no vaccine or treatment, save keeping patients alive longer than the virus.
So I’ll be the Chicken Little.
I sure as hell never expected to see an illness so severe it would demand event canceling and self-quarantine, either. But here we are, and even though WHO and CDC aren’t calling this a pandemic yet they are clear that it’s a big concern. Already I’m bringing my work laptop home every night in anticipation of being told of the first infection at my office. And though it makes me want to tear out my hair I’m considering avoiding fencing competitions and even my club as well.
It’s not a question of if Covid-19 going to disrupt my life, it’s a question of when, how much, and for how long. And I hope I’m wrong! And we can all have a good laugh at my alarmism.
But be careful out there, just in case.