The Old Fear

I've been reading a lot of history lately- both fiction (specifically Mantel's Wolf Hall) and non-fiction (specifically Fraser's biography of Oliver Cromwell) and one thing that stuck out to me, especially given the current times we live in is that there was so much disease out there that people knew nothing about and could strike without warning and take your children or your loved ones from you in a day- or hell, even less than a day.

It's an old fear and one that I think we've forgotten about. We've grown comfortable with our reliance on science and modern technology. It didn't, I don't think, occur to many of us, to be worried about COVID-19 at first, because well, 'science will figure it out for us.' 

I mean, they handled Ebola, right? I remember reading The Hot Zone when I was younger and that shit sounded fucking terrifying. When it started kicking up in West Africa, I'll be honest: part of me was getting increasingly nervous- but I also knew that Ebola was hard to transmit. (I remember wondering at the time if it might mutate- but it didn't.) Then, suddenly, BAM, there was a vaccine. Suddenly it didn't seem quite so scary anymore-- you weren't totally screwed if you got it- you might just be partially screwed. Or maybe you'd be okay. The fear receded. People moved on.

Now there's this. 

I dug up the Zen Pencil's treatment of 'Fear Is The Mind Killer' from Dune. It's a powerful one and honestly, I might buy it when this dies down a bit- not because the message of the cartoon isn't important. (It is, domestic violence is bad.) But the words are powerful and oddly comforting at a time like this.

So, the old fear:

I have no fucking clue how this is going. And that's frustrating as hell to me, because I'm all about the numbers. I like to plan. I like to anticipate. And without complete data, it's hard to tell what the fuck is actually going on. Iowa says it's going to have the commercial labs start reporting their negative tests. They say they've got hospitalization rates. But they're not sharing them yet. I'm a firm believer in the notion that knowledge is power and right now it feels like I'm flying blindfold into a hurricane of shit. It's not a pleasant feeling. I've never been one for anxiety really, but now, I have real honest to God genuine anxiety about shit. It's not a nice feeling. I don't like it.

(And yes, even if they give a more complete data picture like they should, the lag in testing means that it's still a fundamentally flawed picture- but at least it'd be a picture. It'd be something. You could extrapolate, you know?)

Grocery store shelves are messing with my head. Our collective arrogance when it comes to science and technology and forgetting that fear of disease was a real thing humanity had to live with for centuries is only matched by the comfortable post-war American arrogance that food shortages and empty shelves only happen in some other less cool countries. Toilet paper we were ahead of the curve on. Clorox wipes would be like finding a live unicorn at this point. Hand sanitizer is probably going for more than an 8-ball of blow in some places. 

The flour being gone shook me a little bit. Not kind of empty, but completely gone. We haven't made many grocery runs for obvious reasons, but the last one, I had to force myself to put shit back. Breathe regular. Shop normally. We'll make it through.

I've been a Dispatcher for ten years now. "Be safe," or "Stay safe" is an absent farewell that's worked it's way into my vocabulary over the years, for obvious reasons. It's just what cops say to each other. I never thought I'd be saying it to the Missus. 

She's at the Main Hospital today. Not in direct patient care yet- working the phones in a room far away from it, I hope. 

She didn't want to talk about it last night. I don't blame her. This morning, I told her that I loved her and I told her to stay safe.

She's in the eye of the storm.

My sister is in France.

My other sister uses a C-PAP

My Dad's had cancer.

My Mom is pushing into the danger zone.

I'm mildly asthmatic.

How did people back then deal with the old fear? They prayed a lot more, I imagine. So I said a quiet prayer this morning, thanking God for everyone's continued health and protection. Then, I let my fear pass over me. At least for today.