5.06.2003
-The four letter word... again-
The problem with being surrounded by people who are panicking over SARS in a way that has not been seen since the days of the Black Death (which coincidentally also started in South China) is that you get swept away with it.
I have been suffering from sniffles, the occasional sneeze and chills brought on by the fridge-like conditions in my office for a week now. Huddling under my shawl (yes, I do actually own one, too) helps my arms but not my legs, which usually feel dead with numbness in the Arctic atmosphere by the afternoon. This morning I don't feel very well generally. Now, normally, I would just grin and bear it as long as I don't feel faint. Today I slept in an extra hour and had vitamins and zinc supplements. I'm wondering whether I should be in the office at all. I feel myself for a temperature every two seconds (and every two seconds realise I don't have one). I check my temples, neck, and hands and wonder whether I should prepare a will. Then I realise I haven't really had any of the symptoms they describe in the public awareness broadcasts. But what if I am a victim of some mutant variant of the virus? What then?
I mention that I'm not feeling well to a colleague of mine whom I don't particularly like and he automatically steps back a yard, with a nervous smile on his face.
"Why don't you go home?"
He says. Hmm... but I have a facial booked for this evening. OK, the game's up - I can't be ill if I am thinking about the Aveda salon.
A sober prayer for those who are suffering or have passed away from the virus...