Brace yourself for swine flu, not because it’s more dangerous than traditional influenza, but because perceptions of its danger are feverishly high
It’s understandable. None of us will forget when we first heard of a mysterious new flu emerging in Mexico. Initially, they spoke of 150 people dead, and so terrifyingly fast. We Americans have never seen so many maps of our neighbor to the south, accentuated by a red dot on Mexico City, colors radiating ominously to show the spread of an evil new adversary. Then came the “when will it reach the U.S.?” tracking reports, opportunistic politicians hollering for border closure, and then the first flu-related fatality on U.S. soil, a child. Unnerving.
“But it hasn’t reached Colorado yet,” we said to reassure ourselves. Of course, like floodwater seeping under the front door, it crossed boundaries effortlessly.
We don’t forget our first impressions, and subsequent information is slow to erase rooted dread. But based on my firsthand experience, we can dial down the stress level.
Within days of two Fort Collins’ middle schools reporting absentee rates of 15 percent to 20 percent, our seventh-grader woke up feverish. On the phone, our doctor explained that my son’s illness was likely the new strain but that testing to confirm H1N1 wasn’t recommended because it wouldn’t influence the treatment and that he should stay home from school. We obeyed.
We knew this was something special based on its phenomenal rate of spread, infecting all seven members of our household one per day, like falling dominoes. In our case, youth paid dividends. The 2-year-old shook the mild fever after one day and was back to tormenting the pets. The old guy, yours truly, needed five days to be fever-free. But never was anyone sicker than with a nasty cold.
During our stay-home days, I read about preparations at local hospitals, such as special zones with the capacity to receive 20 cases at a time, then 40, and if needed, a special off-site triage location. At first, this seemed excessive, but then a phone call changed my mind.
To quarantine myself, I had to cancel appointments. When I informed one receptionist of my likely diagnosis, her voice jumped. “Oh my God, how are you doing? Are you able to breathe OK?” For her, that impression from last spring had become indelible.
Confession time: In April, with speculation of possibly closing schools and public places, as was done in Mexico City, I stashed a few days of nonperishable foods in my garage, raising eyebrows among my family since I’ve never been much of a guns-and-Spam type. Since then, I’ve had the benefit of a reality check, so I won’t criticize as community anxiety inevitably rises with the return of winter weather and indoor living.
To anyone who, like me, is pre-wired to amplify his or her anxiety, there’s reason to relax. Granted, people in higher risk groups will need to pay extra attention, but by and large, this creeping invader isn’t so ominous after all.
Of course, my family’s experience with H1N1 is no predictor of anyone else’s. Make your decisions based on information from your doctor, health authorities and your own good judgment.
