“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” These were the immortal words delivered by U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt during his 1933 inaugural address. They helped inspire his nation through an economic depression and world war — but probably could do little to ease the pandemonium that now surround a microscopic organism with an identity crisis.
The warnings have been unrelenting — and they have come from all corners in the debate over the H1N1 virus. For months, health officials have warned that the virus formerly known as Swine Flu has reached pandemic proportions. And as the public’s fears continued to mount, they were advised of the imminent need to receive the H1N1 vaccination. Oh, and did we mention by the way that supplies of the vaccine are low so you’re probably going to have to wait a few weeks to ward off your impending death.
While that might not have been the exact message delivered by Canadian health authorities, it’s the one that came through for the average Canadian whose anxiety rose with each new reported H1N1 death. As of this week, 198 Canadians have died of H1N1.
The Canadian public is riveted to any news on the spread of the H1N1 virus. And who could blame them. The sight of young, otherwise healthy individuals being struck down by a microscopic organism is pretty hard to ignore. With those sights often accompanied by respected doctors calling the virus the “most frightening” thing they’ve ever seen. And with each new case, the public’s anxiety continues to grow. And as many Canadians are turned away from the vaccination clinics that fear turns to outrage. It’s enough to even turn Canadians against their hockey heroes.
But the H1N1 virus isn’t the only thing that’s spreading fear across the country. The vaccination itself has become a lightning rod for irrational fear.
“If you Google H1N1, most of what comes up is conspiracy theory paranoia that this is a government plot to kill you,” said provincial health officer Dr. Perry Kendall.
Those theories range from H1N1 being a plot cooked up by the major pharmaceutical companies to help immunize them from potential lagging profits; to the new strain being the result of a top-secret military bio-weapon hatched by former U.S. defence secretary Donald Rumsfeld and the original Dr. Evil, Dick Cheney, during their quest for world domination. (This strand of paranoia is helped along by the fact that Rumsfeld does hold millions worth of stock in the company that owns the rights to Tamiflu, the drug used to remedy symptoms of H1N1. That’s kind of like Cheney having a relationship with a company that stood to profit from the invasion of oil-rich countries. But now I’m starting to sound like an MSNBC newscast.)
Whatever the cause, fear of the virus and/or vaccination is spreading faster than Lindsay Lohan on her way to the bar at last call.
And as the resulting paranoia reaches a fevered pitch, Canadians are increasingly becoming divided into two camps: those scanning the internet for the latest conspiracy while frantically sealing their windows with tinfoil to block out the harmful gamma rays sent out by the government to indoctrinate the public into embracing the vaccine; and those who would sooner judge a talent show comprised solely of Kardashians than venture into any public spaces, and faithfully avoid all forms of human contact, save the goodnight kiss they give their children — after said child’s face has been properly sanitized, of course.
But no matter what side of the debate you’re on, Canadians would be well advised to keep this all in perspective. We made it through bird flu, West Nile, SARS and who could forget flesh-eating disease. That one had panic written all over it. I mean, come on, even the official medical terminology — Necrotizing fasciitis — sounds like the title of a George Romero movie.
So if we can manage to maintain the reserved Canadian composure that has made Canada synonymous with politely dull the world over, I’m convinced we can weather this storm. Keep in mind: it’s been my experience that incompetence and ineptitude make any form of government conspiracy about as likely as the Olympics coming in under budget. And you’re probably more likely to be trampled outside a flu clinic by crowds rushing to the scalpers offering up their spot in line to the criteria-challenged, than die from the flu itself.
The warnings have been unrelenting — and they have come from all corners in the debate over the H1N1 virus. For months, health officials have warned that the virus formerly known as Swine Flu has reached pandemic proportions. And as the public’s fears continued to mount, they were advised of the imminent need to receive the H1N1 vaccination. Oh, and did we mention by the way that supplies of the vaccine are low so you’re probably going to have to wait a few weeks to ward off your impending death.
While that might not have been the exact message delivered by Canadian health authorities, it’s the one that came through for the average Canadian whose anxiety rose with each new reported H1N1 death. As of this week, 198 Canadians have died of H1N1.
The Canadian public is riveted to any news on the spread of the H1N1 virus. And who could blame them. The sight of young, otherwise healthy individuals being struck down by a microscopic organism is pretty hard to ignore. With those sights often accompanied by respected doctors calling the virus the “most frightening” thing they’ve ever seen. And with each new case, the public’s anxiety continues to grow. And as many Canadians are turned away from the vaccination clinics that fear turns to outrage. It’s enough to even turn Canadians against their hockey heroes.
But the H1N1 virus isn’t the only thing that’s spreading fear across the country. The vaccination itself has become a lightning rod for irrational fear.
“If you Google H1N1, most of what comes up is conspiracy theory paranoia that this is a government plot to kill you,” said provincial health officer Dr. Perry Kendall.
Those theories range from H1N1 being a plot cooked up by the major pharmaceutical companies to help immunize them from potential lagging profits; to the new strain being the result of a top-secret military bio-weapon hatched by former U.S. defence secretary Donald Rumsfeld and the original Dr. Evil, Dick Cheney, during their quest for world domination. (This strand of paranoia is helped along by the fact that Rumsfeld does hold millions worth of stock in the company that owns the rights to Tamiflu, the drug used to remedy symptoms of H1N1. That’s kind of like Cheney having a relationship with a company that stood to profit from the invasion of oil-rich countries. But now I’m starting to sound like an MSNBC newscast.)
Whatever the cause, fear of the virus and/or vaccination is spreading faster than Lindsay Lohan on her way to the bar at last call.
And as the resulting paranoia reaches a fevered pitch, Canadians are increasingly becoming divided into two camps: those scanning the internet for the latest conspiracy while frantically sealing their windows with tinfoil to block out the harmful gamma rays sent out by the government to indoctrinate the public into embracing the vaccine; and those who would sooner judge a talent show comprised solely of Kardashians than venture into any public spaces, and faithfully avoid all forms of human contact, save the goodnight kiss they give their children — after said child’s face has been properly sanitized, of course.
But no matter what side of the debate you’re on, Canadians would be well advised to keep this all in perspective. We made it through bird flu, West Nile, SARS and who could forget flesh-eating disease. That one had panic written all over it. I mean, come on, even the official medical terminology — Necrotizing fasciitis — sounds like the title of a George Romero movie.
So if we can manage to maintain the reserved Canadian composure that has made Canada synonymous with politely dull the world over, I’m convinced we can weather this storm. Keep in mind: it’s been my experience that incompetence and ineptitude make any form of government conspiracy about as likely as the Olympics coming in under budget. And you’re probably more likely to be trampled outside a flu clinic by crowds rushing to the scalpers offering up their spot in line to the criteria-challenged, than die from the flu itself.
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