“I’m only going to stay for a minute, because I’m very contagious,” she said, before chatting and staying for closer to five, thus knowingly exposing the nine healthy people in the room to her influenza without making any effort to minimize our risk.
Her presence was perfectly legitimate: this was a homeowners’ association (HOA) meeting; she was a resident dropping off something to the property manager. So perhaps my increasing annoyance was uncharitable. But she was fully conscious of her status as a carrier, so why wasn’t she limiting our exposure, as she supposedly had in mind to do?
Staying no longer than necessary would have been one way to do that. Another would have been to wear a simple facemask. Such masks (surgical masks, “flu masks,” etc.) can be had for as little as $5 for a 20-pack from stores like Rite Aid. This is a relatively commonplace practice in Japan. Considering how much less considerate American culture is, it’s no surprise that if you see such a mask outside of the operating room on this side of the Pacific, there’s probably someone of Asian extraction behind it.
Proper care with our fomites is another means to illness minimization. What’s a fomite, you say? Aside from an opportunity to use a word I just learned, fomites are objects, materials, and the like likely to carry infections—clothing, silverware, and so forth. Understand the basic biological mechanics involved. Empty air isn’t empty; it’s a multifarious hodgepodge of particles that you could actually see were your eyes a helluva lot sharper. You expel particles when you breathe—more so when you’re coughing and sneezing (which is nothing compared to when what you’re emitting can be seen with the naked eye (hence why blood is considered a hazardous substance))—and those particles can land on things, be carried, be ingested or inhaled elsewhere by other persons. Unpleasant thought, but worth keeping in mind nonetheless.
During flu season you hear lots of talk about covering your mouth/nose when you cough/sneeze and washing our hands—a good practice no matter the time of year. But the emphasis always seems to be on how we can minimize our own chances of becoming ill, with considerably less focus on how we can minimize the risk to others. That’s a bit incongruous for a predominantly Judeo-Christian society, considering that, when it comes to the spread of infectious diseases, while self-reliance is paramount, each of us really is our brothers’ keeper.
If you take the word of the Center for Disease Control (CDC), everyone over 6 months of age should get a flu vaccine (“flu shot”)—this season, at least. I imagine there’s some wisdom to that, but I can’t make such an exhortation, if for no other reason than my prejudice in favor of undergoing as few medical procedures—or even (e.g.) taking ibuprofen (on average I pop fewer than two per year)—as I think I really, really need.
The bottom line of this piece is selfish. I don’t want you to make me sick. And vice versa, I’m sure. So let’s make a deal: I’ll cover my nose and mouth and wash my hands and minimize your possible exposure to my contagion, and you do the same. It’s not much to ask of any of us, and the right answer makes our entire society healthier.
I don’t pretend these are pearls of profound, original wisdom. But considering how often I am forced to be an unfortunate witness to behavior like the flu-infected woman at my HOA meeting—or restaurant patron coughing and not covering his mouth (dude, I’m eating over here!)—apparently not everyone’s gotten the memo. So CC it, and maybe we’ll all be a bit better off.