I remember clearly when it started. I was mid-March and I was walking down an already empty street, heading for one of my favorite spots here in the Condesa neighborhood of Mexico City, the Rosario Castellano bookstore, which is part of the government owned bookstore chain and publisher, El Fondo de Cultura Económica (The Economic Culture Fund), when I got a phone call. It was from my daughter.
"Where are you?" she asked.
"I'm on my way to the bookstore," I replied. I didn't have to say which bookstore. She knew that I loved to go to the Rosario Castellano and sit in one of the bookstore's many comfortable armchairs to browse a book, or to sit in the bookstore's cafeteria and watch some of the older guys, like myself, play chess.
"You shouldn't be out in the street," she said, "you'd better come home."
I asked why she wanted me to come home, thinking it might have to do with her son, my grandchild being sick or something. Or him wanting to visit with me as he usually did in the afternoons. But she said that the Corona Virus epidemic was getting very serious and that the government was advising people over sixty and/or with serious or chronic health preconditions, to stay home, isolated if possible. Unfortunately, I fit both descriptions.
I am well over sixty years old, and a few months ago they detected a cyst on my thyroid. The reason they detected the cyst was that the doctors at the pneumology clinic of the IMSS (the Mexican Institute of Social Security) in Monterrey were trying to find the cause of unexplained bleeding in my windpipe. They had done a CAT scan and bronchoscopies (that's a procedure in which they put a camera and other devices down your throat) and they had found I had had a bout with another serious virus that had infected my lungs.
They treated my symptoms and allowed my immune system to take care of the virus, which it did, and after a couple of days in the clinic (thank goodness for those young specialist who are up on the latest medical techniques and knowledge), I was released but cautioned to be careful of any further infections of my lungs.
My daughter being aware of this was worried that I should be running around having contact with people in the street or in the bookstore. So, I went home to my apartment, and went into isolation. That was a month ago.
I, as did a lot of people, thought that the alert for this "epidemic" would last two or three weeks. I remembered the H1N1scare, which was a news story for a few months but it didn't interrupt our daily lives or influence the national economy. I thought this would be the same.
But then it wasn't just about the rapid spread in China, the terrible news from Italy, France, and Spain started to be the daily headlines in the news channels. So, my lackadaisical precautions turned to worry, and the self-imposed isolation became imperative.
I had an appointment on the 3rd of April with the head and neck surgeon specialist at the great 21st Century Medical Center in Mexico City but when I called, the medical assistant told me they were rescheduling all non urgent appointments to June. Only emergency matters were being attended to.
As the news from the US and Europe became more alarming, my worry turned into an unspoken fear. Everything became a suspicious source of possible contamination. When the man who sells me bottled water came and buzzed my doorbell, I did not open the glass front door for him. I told him to leave me a 20 liter bottle of water and to go away. I told him I would leave the empty and the money after I retrieved the bottle of water. The poor man looked at me as if I were demented. He usually came into my apartment and put the heavy bottle in the kitchen, for which I usually gave him a small tip. Well. I gave him the tip anyway but I did not ask him to come into my apartment. Nor did I exchange the usual pleasantries with him. He seemed perplexed when he saw me furiously wiping the plastic water bottle with a disinfectant wipe.
He, like millions of other Mexicans, belongs to the "if I don't work, I don't eat" class who cannot do "home office" or stay isolated. He has to go out with his tricycle loaded with 20 liter bottles of water to roam the streets, selling his water. I can hear him calling out from a very early time of the day.
As news that well known people died and it seemed that no age or class was spared by the virus, my fear became full-fledged paranoia. As food items were provided for me, I washed everything not once but twice. And when I went to open a can of soup or tuna, I began to suspect: did I wash this can or not? I don't remember washing it, so I had better wash it again. I did and I washed my hands as well.
I began to prefer food and drinks that are boiled or cooked for at least 10 minutes. Pasta I cooked for 20 minutes. I boiled water for tea or coffee in the morning. I began to fear going out of my apartment even to the apartment house's lobby which has a large glass door that is always locked, and glass panels so it should be quite safe.
Then one day I caught myself thinking that I might soak the pasta in water with 10 drops of Clorox like one does for vegetables, and I said, "That's it! That's enough! It is alright to take precautions but there is no need to turn into Howard Hughes."
And that's what we all have to do: take precautions but not turn into imitations of Howard Hughes."
I am slowly going to take steps to minimize my isolation. Say, go up on the roof to get fresh air and see what's going on in other rooftops. Then maybe stand outside the lobby and talk to the neighbors from across the street, and so on.
Let the end of paranoia begin!
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