Small germs, big impact

Small germs, big impact
By Aaron J. Brown

I could cite many credible news stories about the impact of the cold and flu this winter. I could quote a local doctor, read you a report with a really important-sounding acronym, or even draw an amusing, but insightful, editorial cartoon depicting the importance of washing your hands.

But by now I’m sure you know well the wrath of this year’s germs, including the odd smell your house takes on when everyone’s been sick for two days. You might even be at this very moment curled up on your bathroom floor praying for a merciful death as I was two weeks ago.

Germs marched through our house like Sherman to the sea. They hit baby George first. We thought the germs could be isolated in one tot, but we live in a house with three boys under age three. Every flat surface or physical object is moist almost all of the time.

So the germs freely passed between us, first to George’s twin brother Doug, then to their older brother Henry, then to Christina. For about 24 hours, lethargic, diseased children littered the house. Metal bowls were situated all around for purposes I need not describe.

Through all this – the crying, the retching, the crying, “get the bowl,” “get more jammies,” and “we need to run the wash, now” – I remained alarmingly healthy. I was like the guy who thinks he may have been bitten by a zombie, but has not yet begun to crave human brains.

Naturally, I had business in Duluth the next day, which is a full two hours drive from my home, itself located a half hour away from nearly every Iron Range town west of Chisholm. (Our place is a little like the island on “Lost”). I drove down feeling fine, drinking coffee and quietly enjoying my escape from Germ Valley. My morning engagement went fine, but by the time I sat down for my afternoon meeting I was experiencing biological foreshadowing, early symptoms previewing “the sickness.”

In horror movies this where the wily old small town mayor says, “Reckon I see a light on at the old Hadley place. Haven’t seen that since the incident. Wouldn’t worry, though, since the only folks in town tonight are those promiscuous teenagers staying at the old ax factory.”

The drive back north was getting rough by the time I was back on the Range. At one point, I felt so sick I had to pull over to the side of the road so that I could swoon and look pale without endangering the lives of other drivers. My pale swooning was all going to plan, until a highway patrolman gave a loud knock at my driver’s side window.

“Are you sick or drunk?” he asked.

For a moment, I wished I was drunk. Because if I was drunk, the officer would have brought me to a nice square room with a bed and no food anywhere in sight. But alas, it was 3 in the afternoon; I was stone-cold sober but still sick as a dog. The officer was very sympathetic and let me go without any hassle. (It was the first time I was ever stopped by law enforcement for being pulled over). I got home alright, only to later join the family parade of viral maladies.

It’s been a couple weeks now, and I feel fine. The kids are bright eyed and keep their partially digested food on the inside. But I will never again underestimate the mighty power of microscopic germs in a home with tiny people incapable of blowing their own noses.

Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune. Read more or contact him at www.minnesotabrown.com.