A Germaphobe Is Born

What’s worse: pandemic or fear of pandemic?

By Kathryn Robinson

Occasionally a passenger will climb aboard wearing a surgical mask, and I’m vividly reminded of the close air and bodily proximity bus riders enjoy. Then I look around and realize that it’s the ones without surgical masks I should worry about. The first time my husband rode with me the woman behind us suffered the kind of pro­tract­ed coughing fit in which one hears the rumblings of liquids, solids, and, one fears, detaching internal organs, and during which one recalls that slo–mo close–up from high–school health class—the one where the microscopic virus arcs out of the sick person’s mouth and directly into the teensy drink hole in the coffee cup lid. A coffee cup lid that bears a striking resemblance to the one I’m drinking from. “Ugh…sorry!” barked the cougher after her fit subsided, in that way the No. 3 crowd has of talking to no one in particular and everyone within earshot. “Just released from Harborview. Not the flu, though! Actually they don’t know what it is.”

Then she sneezed.

And so the Sputum Express got its name, and Bell Cord Tai Chi got born of necessity—and I began to master the art of maintaining balance on a lurching bus using only forearms and elbows and hips for support. And my fingernails started growing to lengths a chronic nail–biter never even dreams about.

And here’s the irony: I’m not even afraid of having swine flu. For non–risk–group adults like myself it sounds like a mildly uncomfortable week at home with Oprah. No, I’ve been gripped by Pandemic Fever, a full-–body assault marked by fear of human contact and brought on by a society temporarily obsessed with public health. Even my church enabled my new pursuit of human avoidance. Our pastors encouraged us to pass the peace, if we wished, without the customary handshakes or hugs. What’s going on when your pastor preaches strategies for avoiding human contact? Pandemic Fever.

I guess it’s bigger than me. Especially since the vaccine hasn’t become widely available yet, and may not be by the time you read this. Really especially since so many folks have concluded that even when the vaccine is available, they’ll be ignoring it. Never mind that the swine flu vaccine has the support of virtually every medical professional in the country, or that if left unchecked the virus could mutate into something far worse. Never mind that—mild–week–with–Oprah majority notwithstanding—this one’s disproportionately picking off children.

No, they can’t get this vaccine into me fast enough. I may be low risk, but I’m sure I can make a convincing argument that a raging case of Pandemic Fever is threatening enough to move me to the front of the line. Because it sure feels threatening.

It’s almost as scary as the pull cord on the No. 3 bus.