HEART BEAT: It Happens to the Best of Us

By Felicia Mitchell

If I’m not careful, I’ll fall down a flight of stairs and break my neck.  So I’m careful.  I walk gingerly up and down, hands poised as if I’m a ballerina and my hands will keep en pointe. 

I’m not a ballerina.  I’m just doing the best I can, making up moves as I go, to avoid a pas de deux with H1N1 influenza. That means that I have stopped holding onto banisters.  Sometimes I reach out, eager to pull myself up the stairs, and have to stop. 

Germs!  I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of germs.  If I got sick, I’d do what I’m supposed to do.  I’d see a doctor and stay home and drink lots of liquids and watch TV. 

So what’s with me?  Banisters are the least of it.  Consider my phobia of serving utensils in public places.  It’s easiest to avoid using them by avoiding eating out.  Sometimes, though, I do.  Why not?

Whether I’m in the cafeteria at work or a buffet line somewhere else, I grab a napkin to grab any utensil I need to hold to serve myself.  I tell myself that I’m being courteous to the person who comes after me, but really I’m doubting the person who came before.

And that’s just one example.  Here’s another.

This past Wednesday, I drove into Abingdon to see my mother for lunch.  She lives in a facility that posts signs that ask people not to enter if they have had a fever or cough within a certain period of time.  I know not to visit there if I’m sick, even if it’s a slight cold.

Wednesday, the closer I got to the nursing home, the more I realized I should stop somewhere and buy a thermometer to take my temperature before going a step farther.  So I did.  I stopped at a drugstore, bought a thermometer, and sat in the parking lot to take my temperature to see if I was healthy enough to go see my mother.

I was, of course.  I felt great.  But you know how it is.  I’d hate to infect somebody inadvertently.  I wonder if one day nursing homes and hospitals and other places will have special portals that will check vital signs and deny access if somebody with a temperature gets too close.  It’s bound to happen.

In the meantime, I play my bit part in the grand dance of disease. 

Now, in addition to carrying around snacks and hiking shoes and reusable grocery bags, not to mention handy wipes and cleaning gel, my vehicle boasts its own thermometer.  I feel sure that I am even more prepared than I was a week ago.  While I’ve drawn the line at a face mask, I know never to say never.

Please don’t do what I do, though.  Hold onto banisters. Drink from public water fountains.  Take a chance and eat out now and then.  Then again, maybe we should all start wearing latex-free gloves when we leave the house.