It is not the virus I fear..

Never before has a cough or a sneeze sounded more ominous. Yesterday, my cabbie was sneezing incessantly through my two hour journey home, and I must admit, I felt worried. As I covertly tried to open the window, I noticed that I was skittish touching the handle. Similar things have happened to me while pressing elevator buttons. While opening doors. Such are the times we live in, such are the things we are going through.

Somehow, every disease comes down to survival of the fittest, and I worry for all those who do not fall under this category. For whom statistics predicts dire things. My 63 year old mother, a general physician, who is now inundated with patients worrying if they have caught the virus--I find myelf thinking, inevitably, one of them is going to test positive; it's just a matter of time. My 71 year old father, who suffers from diabetes, hypertension and heart disease, and travels by public transport everyday. My 91 year old grandfather, whose immunity system is even worse off. I know that every single person has in their circle of family and friends, people who are more vulnerable than others.

I shudder to imagine what covid19 can do to India, to Bangalore that is burgeoning with a population of 10 million people. 

But you know what? It is not the virus as such that leads me to worry. I fear more for the way people will react to this. I fear for the panic it will cause, and all the behaviours that will stem from the ensuing chaos. I fear that it will bring out the worst in people. I fear that the weaknesses and flaws in our system and society will get exposed by this, and that underbelly of human nature is going to be a pretty ugly picture. Pictures from a recent dystopian novel that I read come to mind.

Look at what's happening around. Hoarding for instance. Yesterday, I read an article that was a plea for kindness from a mother who had a sick young son with cystic fibrosis but could not buy sanitiser or masks that are normally needed for her son. It was truly heart-wrenching, and I excerpt a piece of it for you:

In a time of panic, please don’t forget to be kind.

Before you roll your eyes at this worthy statement, know it doesn’t come from a place of virtue. It comes from the mother of Harry, my two-year-old son with cystic fibrosis, a chronic health condition that makes him particularly vulnerable to respiratory viruses.
I write this from a place of deep anxiety, stemming from the familiarity I have with the smells of fear and tears accompanying an intensive care unit in a children’s hospital. A year ago, I watched as my son was sedated and put on oxygen because of complications arising from rhinovirus – the common cold – combined with two other respiratory viruses. I shudder to think what Covid-19 could do to his already compromised lungs.
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Yet last week I visited at least eight pharmacies and could not buy a face mask for my son to wear when he visits hospital next week for his regular CF clinic. In fact, I have resorted to hassling the kind doctors at the Sydney Children’s Hospital in Randwick to send me face masks so that he can wear them to avoid people coughing on him while he is walking through the hospital. The fact I am wasting the precious time of under-resourced doctors and nurses is appalling, and something I am ashamed of, yet I have been driven to do this because others have hoarded them in case of emergency and I cannot physically buy any in stores.

Yesterday I was dismayed when I saw a social media post from the mum of Harper, who has leukaemia, who couldn’t buy any tissues at her local shop. What has Australia come to when a mum can’t buy tissues for her daughter with leukaemia, on her way home from hospital?

Panic is a very real thing. When you start thinking, I might not find any later, let me buy all that I can right now, it will most definitely lead to more people noticing the diminishing supplies and doing the same. Within no time, all stock would have been exhausted, with several people being left empty-handed. Panic is an avalanche, and it is waiting for that tiny snowflake that could be you. Hoarding is just one tiny head of this demon, and there are far worse things.

Is this what "human nature" comes down to? I want you to understand, I do not write this from a pedestal, looking down on human nature. I am as human as the next person, and that is why I worry. I wonder what I would do when I am put in a similar situation. I wonder what you, a complete stranger would do to me, if my life were at your mercy. It is perhaps hard to think beyond our own families and friends in situations like this, and yet there are so many outside that tiny circle who need us to be thoughtful. 

Which is why I keep a picture of a complete stranger who needs my compassion and kindness. I tell myself that the more vivid and detailed that picture is, the easier it is to be kind. For me that picture is this two year old kid, who is already suffering and fighting enough battles of his own. Surely the voice of his petrified mother is enough for me to be nice to this kid even though he is a stranger to me. To all the Harrys of this world, whether they be two or ninety, whether they suffer from cancer or cystic fibrosis or are merely old. If you and I can do this, if we can find it in our heart to think a little beyond our own selves, then perhaps there is still some hope left for humanity.

This pandemic is not just a test of our immune systems, but a test of strength of character. Let us not succumb to panic and trod over people.