COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES -- peter buffa
I don’t know anyone. Anyone who hasn’t come down with the flu, that is,
in one form or another.
Right around Christmas seemed to be the preferred time to crash and burn.
Ever wonder where the word “influenza” came from?
Nor has anyone else, but I’ll tell you anyway.
During the Renaissance, there were some horrific outbreaks of the flu in
Europe and the church summoned some deep thinkers of the time to look
into it. They went to their rooms, thought very deep thoughts and decided
that the epidemics were caused by the influence of certain planetary
alignments. The disease itself came to be known as the “influence,” or,
in Italian, “influenza.”
Now, be honest with me. Is there anywhere else you can find information
so profoundly useless? Thank you so much. We do what we can.
As flu seasons go, this one is nasty but it isn’t the bell ringer. Not by
a longshot. That honor belongs to the year 1918. A strain called “Spanish
flu” spread from country to country like a firestorm. By the time it was
over, 14 million people across the globe were dead.
Actually, no one dies from the flu. It’s the complications, usually
pneumonia, that can be fatal. Well, this is uplifting, isn’t it? I feel
much better now.
Every flu season has its trademark and this one seems to be the hacking,
never-ending cough. I haven’t heard this much coughing since Hillary
asked Bill if he knew someone named Monica.
The most frustrating thing, of course, is that there’s very little you
can do about it. Get plenty of rest, drink lots of liquids, etc., etc.
But mostly you’re on your own, Sneezy. It’s just you, the box of tissues
and the pile of over-the-counter stuff that doesn’t really help but makes
you think you’re doing something.
Speaking of medicine, what about those commercials for prescription
drugs? What is that all about? You’ve seen them, I’m sure -- ads from
pharmaceutical companies that try to persuade you to ask your doctor to
prescribe whatever-it-is on your next visit.
The ads are very well done, very touchy-feely. If the music isn’t
“Yanni,” it’s a Yanni wannabe. (Talk about low self-esteem.) There’s
always a man and a woman. She’s beautiful, with sparkling white hair. He
looks like Robert Wagner and does that sweater thing where you toss it
over your shoulders and tie the sleeves around your neck. Yack.
Anyway, they’re usually walking along some beautiful shoreline at sunset
while their golden retriever plays in the surf. Voice-over: “If
cholesterol is a concern, one word can put your mind at ease.
‘Triswallowin’ -- from Johnson & Mayer. You’ve earned these precious
moments. Don’t let worries about cholesterol steal them away. Ask your
doctor for Triswallowin, from Johnson & Mayer ... because only the best
is good enough.”
OK, fine. But answer me this. Who on earth would do that? When the doctor
says, “Gee, that’s interesting. We’ve never seen anyone with a
cholesterol count of 340 before,” and starts to write out a prescription
-- exactly who is going to say, “Oh listen, Doc, I almost forgot. Would
you mind making that for Triswallowin?”
I don’t think so. On this planet, he hands you the prescription, you take
it to the drugstore. Twenty minutes later, they give you the little white
bag, you say “thank you” and you’re on your way. Done. You wouldn’t know
Triswallowin from triathlon, nor would you suggest one or the other.
But, wait. Now the ad gets really bizarre. Apparently, the FDA makes them
mention every possible side-effect -- in a lot more detail than any of us
need to know. So what you end up with is:
”... because only the best is good enough. (Pause) Women who are
pregnant, people who have lungs, and men over 38 should not use
Triswallowin. In some patients, Triswallowin can cause dizziness, nausea,
massive discoloration of the face and hands, hair loss, and excessive
flatulence.”
Well, OK! What’s not to like? I am on the horn to my doctor’s office and
I mean now.
Actually, I think colds and flu are God’s way of reminding us that we’re
not quite the all-knowing, high-tech hotshots we think we are. When that
sneezy, aching, coughing, burning-up feeling gets us, we do exactly what
the hairy people in the loincloths did a thousand centuries ago. Get back
to the cave, lie down and wait it out.
We are a lot smarter, though, about how these things get passed around.
Being near someone sneezing used to scare us silly. For years and years,
we thought noses were the bad guys. But now it turns out the real
villains are hands.
Airborne germs are wimpy. The curtain comes down on them within minutes.
But germs deposited on a doorknob or a phone or a fax machine button can
live for hours, waiting quietly for their next victim to come along.
Life is so cruel. You send a fax or pick up a phone, and the next time
you touch your lips or scratch your nose, you’re done. You’re on your way
to a week or more of whimpering and moaning and doing all those
unpleasant things you hear about in pharmaceutical disclaimers.
But, we’ll all get through it, as always. Do what you can. Ride it out.
Forget the surgical mask, stock up on the antiseptic hand cleaner. And
don’t forget Triswallowin.
Bless you. I gotta go.
* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Fridays.
E-mail him at o7 PtrB4@aol.com f7 .
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