On pandemics, panic, purchasing, and preparedness

Oh man, the alliteration goblins are dancing a happy little jig over that post title!

Ehem. Pressing on.

So as you've probably heard by now, the virus known formally as SARS-CoV-2, aka novel coronavirus, has jumped over from China to start its grand tour of the USA in the Seattle area. Let's call it what it is: a pandemic. It spreads alarmingly easily, is hard to track, there's no vaccine for it, and there are probably already thousands more people infected with it than are being reported in the news. It's capable of killing people with astounding rapidity, especially those who are older, already sick or immunocompromised. And at the moment I'm living behind the Viral Curtain. That care center you might have heard about, where dozens of people are sick and some have died? That's practically in my back yard.

Nobody is ready for this. The national, state and local governments aren't ready, the local stores and businesses aren't ready, the people of Puget Sound aren't ready. And as people tend to do when they're not ready for something that's potentially deadly, some are panicking.

Say hello to my leetle fren!

What does that panic look like? Let me show you an example.

These are the shelves where the disposable gloves used to be at my friendly neighborhood drugstore. Before that they were completely sold out of every kind of cough, cold and flu medication, and every quick-read thermometer was gone. As of this writing, you can't buy gel hand sanitizer for love or money anywhere in Western Washington; it has become a kind of fetishistic object. People have even taken to making their own from rubbing alcohol and aloe vera gel (also sold out everywhere). And people have been lining up at area Costcos to panic-buy massive stocks of pretty much everything they can drag out to their cars.

Other items in short supply right now: cans of Lysol, disinfecting wipes, bleach, toilet paper, bottled water, face masks, zinc lozenges, and common sense. (While people are going nuts trying to buy or make hand sanitizer, none of the stores I visited have run low on soap -- still the cheapest, most thorough method for getting your hands clean.)

I've been seeing another form of panic as well, expressed as social stigma. Because the virus first spread from China, people who are or look Asian have been mistreated and shunned in public. In our community, people who have come down with the virus don't want anyone else to know, lest they be ostracized by their neighbors for bringing the plague next door. So people who are self-isolating and trying not to spread the virus may not get the help they need, such as having groceries or medicine delivered. Because coronavirus is especially hard-hitting for older people, including some who may already be shut-ins on a fixed income, there's a good chance that such people could sicken and die without receiving medical intervention in time.

Fear is a very understandable human response, especially in the wake of a dangerous pandemic that is not anywhere near being under control or treatable. People want to feel in control of their lives; when they lose that illusion of control, they often panic. But whether panic is expressed in the form of overpurchasing or social shaming, it does no one any good. Panic-purchasing and stockpiling items at the moment of crisis creates temporary shortages that cause huge problems for people, such as healthcare workers and the sick, who really need immediate access to such items. And stigmatizing the sick damages everybody. Coronavirus doesn't discriminate on the basis of race or ethnicity; it's an opportunistic virus that could infect anyone. It does hit older people especially hard, but that should encourage us to help our elders, not to give them the hairy eyeball.

How should one respond to such a crisis? Well, by being prepared in advance. I know that's easy to say in retrospect, and one can't be prepared for every eventuality. But if you know you're likely to face something nasty, thinking it out when you aren't in crisis mode and taking steps to be as ready as possible before the nasty strikes is the way to go. This means that you put together an emergency plan if you live in earthquake country, or in Tornado Alley, or if your area loses power in winter, is close to an active volcano, has typhoons, or is subject to flash floods or tsunamis. You get the most basic supplies you need for about three days, you work out a simple emergency plan with your loved ones, and you bring the plan up to date every six months to a year. Note: I used the words "basic" and "simple." This doesn't have to be a major, brilliant tactical strategy project -- just what you'll do in case the big bad thing happens. Don't let it overwhelm you and keep you from starting. Do what you can.

Were we perfectly prepared for this? Nope. We didn't have miles of TP or a gross of disposable face masks all ready for this event. But we did get our medications filled. We had enough toilet paper to last about a week. And I did have a little bottle of hand sanitizer in my purse and in the car, so I haven't been trying to rush out and panic-buy any. I know I have enough to get me through the immediate crisis, so I can wait until the panic purchasing dies down and local supply chains get working again. In the meantime, I'm washing my hands early and often, trying not to touch my face, keeping away from public places when I can, and following other common-sense recommendations to stay as healthy as possible. I'm using the self-quarantine time to catch up on my reading, knit, make crafts, do dishes (meh), try to get over the change to Daylight Savings Time, and come up with ways to help neighbors who might need assistance. (Suggestion: if you're outside the affected areas and you have family members or close friends in a coronavirus hot spot, especially ones whose jobs will not allow them to self-quarantine without taking a big financial hit, consider helping them financially if you can. If more people can afford to stay home, it may slow the spread of the virus; you might never have to worry about it reaching your town.)

Pandemics are scary, and our brains aren't particularly good at thinking when we're afraid. But if we can take the time to stop, think and act meaningfully in the wake of a crisis, it will be a better situation both for us and for others. And if crisis situations help us to plan and prepare for similar crises in future, we'll be less likely to panic and more capable of acting wise and rational when we really need to.