The problem with writing about “that flu” is that it’s so long ago – nearly forty years now. I was 26 years old and a student in Bellingham, Washington. I lived alone in a pleasant apartment down a long hill from campus, white walls covered in black and white pictures from favorite Sherlock Holmes and other 50s and 60s films. I had two great cats, a large, orange tabby named George and the smaller, black, long-haired Minerva. The cats were always trying to attack the slightly scraggly hanging plants and their dangling, cream-colored macrame twine. I mostly sat in a favorite brown rocking chair, watching my small TV or listening to an old stereo while doing math homework. I remember that apartment vividly – probably because it was the site of the flu.
I sometimes think I must misremember that flu. I mean, people simply do not run a fever of 104 degrees off and on — mostly on — for ten whole days. Except I remember that number because when I checked the dates, I was so stunned. Another memory: I went to the student health center where the doctor stood plastered against the corner of the room, as far away from me as he could manage to stand. I could tell how badly he wanted out of that room. I’d never seen a doctor behave that way. I don’t remember what he did for me. Maybe he gave me antibiotics. Back then, if you got sick, everybody gave you antibiotics. I guarantee they did not work. I walked back down the hill and went to bed. And stayed in bed. Friends dropped off food. I think one or two of them even came in briefly. We were not nearly as smart about infectious disease back then, not healthy people in their twenties anyway. Nobody else got sick, not because of me, at least as far as I knew. Then I was “well.”
Except when I walked up the hill to campus, now I had to stop and rest. I had a favorite gray, stone planter I would use to rest on, near a corner curb. I can’t recall if the homeowner ever asked why I was always sitting on their planter in the morning. I would sit and study the greenery, the houses in the distance, campus buildings above me, and wait for my strength and wind to return. Then I’d tackle the hill again. Those rests went on for months. I mean, I can still remember the view I spent so much time resting on that planter.
But I was young and I had begun that year in great physical shape. I had a healthy lifestyle that involved frequent long walks. I lived in a town that encouraged hikes in the woods, kayaking and relaxing by the water. I came back from that flu. I’ll never know if I came back all the way, but by the following fall I was hiking in the woods. I recall making my favorite Scottish walking partner take an occasional short break. I also recall the paramedics when I swooned at some dance that summer. I blamed the heat then, but I was the only one at the dance who found herself looking up into the eyes of handsome, concerned paramedics.
This seems like a sideways post in a blog dedicated to education – except it’s not. Too many government leaders and school administrators continue to push to open schools for on-person learning in viral hotspots. Yes, we can’t close all the schools because of COVID-19, which will be with us for awhile. In some areas, we probably do have to roll the dice because we have no good options. Online learning is less effective for the vast majority of our kids — although, a tiny group seems to honestly be doing better online – and online learning favors certain groups more than others – a fact likely to widen the achievement gap. So schools must open where feasible.
But this, “oh, well, a few kids and teachers will get sick, but it will probably be O.K.” attitude shows a lack of understanding of what we are up against. Forty years ago, I was a version of a long hauler. I never went to a hospital. I just read, drank liquids, and slept with cats beside me, waiting for my fever to break. But it means something that I remember that year so vividly. My whole view of illness changed with that flu. I remember saying to friends, “That was one of those flus that kills babies and old people,” a truth I felt in my bones. I wouldn’t have been drinking endless tea with my cats if I had been 70 years old.
And I suggest readers look at this article.https://www.huffpost.com/entry/kids-long-haul-covid-parents_l_5f5b81cec5b6b48507ff886d and read about Amber. The story begins:
“In mid-March, Amy Thompson’s daughter, Amber, called her from a shift at Starbucks and told her mom she felt a tickle in her throat she couldn’t get rid of. Within hours, the college freshman had a fever and a nonstop cough. After some struggle to find a site that would take her, Amber tested positive for COVID-19.”
Our children can all be Amber, the once-Starbucks-barista and former college student. I hope Amber makes it back to school soon. I hope her next seizure is her last seizure forever and I hope that wheelchair is just a memory soon. I can’t imagine how scary it is to be Amber… except, I can just vaguely remember that year when I collapsed at the dance. For that brief period, on the floor with all those faces above me, I was so scared.
Eduhonesty: People get viruses. Our leaders must understand, though, that viruses don’t just go away, not always. I am getting my second shingles shot on Thursday because chicken pox never goes away – it just waits to become some peoples attack of shingles, and then some peoples permanent post-herpetic neuralgia – otherwise known as nerve pain forever. A previous post talked more about viral infections of the past. The current thinking supports the idea that most people will clear COVID-19 from their bodies. But nobody yet understands what is happening with the long haulers. (See https://www.eduhonesty.com/better-to-be-too-scared-of-those-classrooms-than-not-scared-enough/ )
For more information an article on long haulers: https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2020/07/brain-fog-heart-damage-covid-19-s-lingering-problems-alarm-scientists
P.S. I have no data for this, just a sense I should put it out for consideration. A neighbor down the block has his son, daughter-in-law and grandchild with him now because his unemployed son’s lease was expiring. I know others with children who recently came home. Some have been in their childhood bedrooms since spring.
What do you do if you lose your job when a virus attacks the economy? When you can no longer pay for a Chicago apartment? At least some young adults are creating multi-generational homes, and launching their job search from familiar kitchen tables and childhood basements.
Multigenerational homes are becoming more common I believe, making the much higher rate of COVID mortality for older adults one more reason to be extremely careful about opening schools.