Flu fighters

I’ve been sick.

No, I know what you’re thinking. It’s not that.

I’ve just had the flu.

But having the flu at this point in time automatically makes you suspect of having... “The Flu.”

You know: H1N1. The flu so scary they had to rename it with numbers and letters.

Somehow, animal names weren’t enough for this flu. Animal tags tend to make flu strains sound almost cute. You can’t get too worked up over “avian” flu, or even “swine” flu. Somehow cartoon characters automatically leap to mind, floating around, carrying hypodermic needles and wearing N95 masks.

No, give a flu an acronym. That’s when it becomes serious. SARS. AIDS. Stick in a few digits: N1H1. There you go.

Since I tend to get some kind of cold or flu every season (sometimes I get a flu shot, sometimes I forget), it’s hard to differentiate my present condition from your run-of-the-mill cold or flu.

Oh, wait. There is one way: I’m been forced to quarantine myself.

Having survived New England microbes roughly the size of golf balls every winter season when I was growing up, I was not prepared for the quarantine bit. When we were sick as kids, we were lucky if we got to stay home from school for a day. If so, we mingled around freely — didn’t matter if our nostrils were red, leaky faucets, or if you could dry a pair of winter socks on the furnace of our foreheads. We stayed in the general population. I believe this had something to do with building up our immunity.

Here in Asia, though, there is a great deal more concern about flu, almost close to hysteria. Recently passing through Nagoya Airport, I was concerned and yet relieved to see the health officials manning the entry points to Japan, wearing surgical masks. Relieved because they did appear to be doing their jobs, spotting flu carriers; concerned because I had been asked to fill out a flu questionnaire form on the plane. Specifically, the question “Have you been in contact with anyone from the United States in the past 10 days?” What the hell, in the spirit of full disclosure, I ticked off “yes,” having been in contact with my wife, who had recently returned from the US. One look at the form, and I saw the Japanese officials’ expressions change. Really, I heard nuclear reactor warning bells going off in my head. People swiveled around to see me being whisked off to the side. I managed a halfhearted wave to my departing travel companions. As in: Nice knowing you…

I was gently but firmly hauled aside and made to stand alone until another masked figure approached. I believe this was my first experience with flu isolation. During those moments I had time to consider the little side room down the hallway where people in white coats and more masks came and went. This must be the “quarantine room,” I considered. Then the guy showed up with a digital thermometer, or somesuch device; he placed it against my forehead for three seconds, wrote down “36º” on my questionnaire, then pointed to the exit. My temperature was normal; I was free to go.

Unfortunately, I was heading to the States, specifically to an international gathering in Miami. Flu opportunities galore!

Now Asians have yet another reason to live in fear of the US, post-Bush/Cheney. You tell them you’re going to the States, they make the sign of the cross, they inch away from you. They ask about your insurance beneficiaries. Granted, swine flu originated in the Northern Hemisphere, migrating from Mexico (without a visa, mind you) and hitting a few key cities (they say if you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere) before slushing up toward Canada. So many key vector points in the Northern Hemisphere!

And yet, being of hearty New England stock, I refuse to believe that what I have is anything but your common garden-variety cold. Nothing to get all plague-y about; no reason to sit around looking up “Swine Flu Precautions” on the Internet and reading them out loud in my presence, thank you very much (which family members have callously done). I have feelings too, even if I am carrying the Andromeda Strain. “The victim should stay quarantined for 10 days…” “Symptoms include fever (not in my case), sore throat (okay, maybe that), muscle ache (and that…), coughing (only occasionally)...” “Use ‘sneeze etiquette’ whenever you must sneeze near non-victims.” (This is the so-called “Dracula sneeze” — it’s what US schoolkids call it when you sneeze into your crooked forearm, like Dracula peering from behind his cape.)

And now? Now I’m in day six of my quarantine. I’ve resisted picking up Albert Camus’ The Plague for tips. I tried rewatching 12 Monkeys, but I got bored. Basically, quarantine sucks. It’s lonely. You don’t feel like getting any work done. You miss human contact. You want it to be over. You want them to stop hanging the “pariah” sign around your neck. You feel like Hayden Kho.

There is an upside, though. No one expects you to lift a finger when you’re sick. Your social obligations vanish during quarantine. People don’t want you too active within the community. You don’t have to drive anywhere. I could probably skip a few days of work, or at least work from my quarantined computer at home.

But you also start viewing the world à la Gregor Samsa in “The Metamorphosis.” You start seeing yourself as the Big Bug. You get accustomed to people scrambling around in witch-hunt mode. You begin to experience the magnified fear that people now carry around when they’re in airports, even if they only have the slightest nose twitch or hint of clamminess. You feel… suspect. And contagious.

You get tired of explaining that, guys, this is just a regular old flu. No, really. I’ve had worse. Nothing to it.

But you’re only human. You’re suggestible, too. Who knows which team those microbes inside you are playing for? You didn’t ask to see their paperwork when they moved in. You gobble Tamiflu daily like Hot Tamales candy. You start ticking off your symptoms all over again… 

Naw. Seriously. Just a regular flu. I’ll be right as rain in a few days.

Then again, maybe a week off from the office isn’t such a bad idea after all...