If you’ve been reading me for any amount of time you probably know that I have some mild anxiety issues. Mostly they center around errant asteroids, the wrath of a vengeful god, and social chaos, but I also have a fear of illness. Ask Glenda the Good Bitch. I get very annoyed when people bring their sickness into public venues because their kid is always going to lick my kid and we’re going to get whatever croupy, snotty, puffy-eyed crap it is they’re spreading. I firmly believe that if you or your children aren’t feeling well then YOU SHOULD STAY HOME. But, as reports of the END OF TIMES VIA BIRD FLU died down and I decided to no longer buy into scare tactic media, my anxiety levels ebbed to manageable. And then Mexico happened.
Seriously, y’all, this is some freaky shit goin’ down. I’ve seen Outbreak with Dustin Hoffman and Renee Russo. I know the drill. I’ve seen those little red dots on the map of the world spread faster and faster. I know that everyone’s gonna look like hell and in need of a good scalp scrubbing (Ooooh! remind me to tell you about my experience with “no-pooing.”). It may or may not be the pandemic we’ve all been waiting for, but still… damn. Really cosmos? You had to do this now? Just as the economy was crawling towards hope? Just as I was able to ease off the meds? Just as ohmygawd, my throat started hurting and I’m chasing away a mild headache with Tylenol and caffeine?
I was at Disneyworld!! The happiest place on Earth!!! How many carriers did I encounter? How many of the many many people I groped in pressing crowds had been to/from/thinking about Mexico?! Just how long until I present symptoms, anyway? And why are these otherwise healthy people dying? Most deaths from the influenza virus happen to either the very young or the very old and ill. What happens usually is that that sneaky bitch pneumonia slips in when she sees the defenses are down and then gurgle, gurgle, buh-bye mortal coil, ya know? Otherwise healthy people typically can overcome this. What’s different now? Oh, the irony, the War of the Worlds irony. A world so awesome only to be felled by a virus.
Or not. Because we’re not supposed to panic, just to be merely concerned. And start working on our two-week emergency preparedness plan – you know, enough food and water and supplies and booze and batteries to last us until … we run out? I dunno. But dutifully, I’ve made my list – even accounting for the cats (just in case we get really REALLY really hungry), checked my bank balance and withdrawn a little cash so… um… what?! Stop looking at me like that. I am NOT an alarmist. I’m NOT researching the Swine Flu/Spanish Flu of 1918 (Unless by “researching” you mean watching and rewatching that homo-erotic scene where Carlisle turns Edward in Twilight. Then yes. I’m “researching.”)