The Flu season, as an annual occurrence, is met with little resistance from Americans. Most of us visit a local CVS to receive our yearly flu shot, and maybe we wash our hands before eating a meal at work or school, but these actions are the extent of our self-preservation. The CDC estimates that, each year, between 9 million and 41 million Americans are infected with the flu each year. Between 12,000 and 52,000 of these Americans will succumb to the disease . Still, the flu is considered nothing more than a nuisance; it is a staple of the American winter.
Flu vaccines are created through estimation. The vaccine is formulated annually in an attempt to combat the strains that are most likely to cause the majority of cases that particular season. Sometimes, these scientists are incorrect in their estimation, or the particular strain is difficult to capture in a vaccine--the 2017-2018 H3N2 influenza season comes to mind. My memories of this flu season consist of me lying in bed, coughing with such vigour that I vomited. My hands went numb and my body was on fire. A woman in Needham had died a week before my hospitalization. Years later, I can laugh about the absurdity of my circumstances. I missed nearly two weeks of school for the flu. I felt stupid saying it.
I get my flu vaccine every year. I never think anything of it; it’s merely an excuse to leave school early and come back with a Dunkin’ Donuts iced tea and a donut. I have been getting the vaccine for as long as I can remember, and there have been only two or three times in which I have been infected with the flu--only one instance was severe, and the others were more of a tickle in the back of my throat than anything else.
This history of a modern American’s relationship with the flu is a long-winded way to introduce the idea that, simply put, we don’t care. The flu is an annual occurrence. A right of passage. I can safely say that most American, regardless of their vaccination habits and how diligently they wash their hands, has had the flu at least once. Some can even recall an instance in which they found themselves in the hospital, or afflicted with pneumonia. In short, we don’t care. We don’t wear masks come flu season. We don’t close school. We don’t stop shaking hands. We may not always cover our mouths when we cough, or stay home when we’re sick, or sanitize surfaces after using them. We live symbiotically, almost, with the flu; it feeds on us annually, and we do very little to actively stop its spread outside of getting the vaccine.
There are very few scenarios in which we live to see COVID-19, in all of its diverse strains, completely eradicated. Many scientists think, just as there is a flu season, a ‘COVID season’ will emerge, as well. I wonder if there will be a future in which we no longer wear masks to prevent the spread, or ritualistically wash our hands to the tune of ‘happy birthday’; in this future, we visit CVS once a year to receive our COVID vaccine, and the rest is history.
Even as COVID cases continue to rise in the United States, attitudes about the disease seem to be easing. I had a conversation with a close friend in which she off-hand mentioned she had COVID a week ago. If she had confessed to that two years prior, I would have showered her in apologies for having had to go through such a grueling experience, and offered to make her soup or tea to ease the symptoms. However, I shrugged it off. I laughed at all of her jokes about not being able to smell, and we moved on to discussing the Bruins.
It seems to me that we are progressing into a world in which COVID, like the flu, is simply another staple of winter. In the future, it might not be uncommon to confess you had COVID for a few days, or that you’re staying home with your kid who has COVID. These confessions may not carry the same weight. To me, this notion feels like nihilism.
The term ‘nihilism’ is defined as the idea that life is inherently meaningless, and that nothing matters. Our attitudes about the yearly flu epidemic resemble this idea closely. It doesn’t significantly matter to us; while of course no one wants to catch it, we don’t take tons of life-saving measures aside from getting the vaccine. We don’t care. It morally means nothing if you don’t wear your mask on the train to protect yourself from the flu. As the COVID-19 pandemic drags on, I am closely watching the attitudes of the disease change from a ‘holy smokes, this is a world-ending virus that will kill us all,’ to ‘it’s just the flu, and assuming you are vaccinated, if you get it, you’ll be fine.’ My argument is not that nothing in life matters, worry not--my argument is simply that we are progressing to a state in which something as controversial and terrifying as COVID-19 does not prompt the caution and carry the same weight that it used to.
The Omicron variant has become dominant in the United States, sending cases skyrocketing across the country. COVID cases -- and hospitalizations -- are higher than they have ever been since the pandemic began. Nonetheless, we are in school. Restaurants are open. I go to the gym five times a week, where very few people opt to wear a mask -- after all, gyms typically have good ventilation and people are generally distant from each other. My lacrosse team is still practicing indoors. This article is not to claim that these things are negative--I take advantage of all of these openings daily. I took my mask off to play indoor lacrosse with my friends just last night, and the risk of being infected with COVID didn’t even cross my mind until I looked over my shoulder and saw my dad still wearing his mask on the bleachers.
The question is, should we find peace in the fact that no one seems to care as much? Is it a good thing that COVID is going from this horrible evil, to a nuisance that keeps kids out of school for a few days? Is it a good thing that we are still in school, still in work, still practicing our indoor sports, and still eating at restaurants? In my opinion, this phenomenon is the thing of horror movies. Something that has claimed millions of deaths worldwide might mean nothing soon. After all, the flu has claimed millions of lives, too, and very few people drastically alter their lives to prevent getting it
All that being said: I care. I will wear my mask wherever it is appropriate to. I am triple-vaccinated. I wash my hands. However, as I watch the attitudes about COVID become less fearful, I find myself growing complacent. I am in a place that I never foresaw myself being in, watching as I play indoor sports and go to a public gym and eat out at restaurants without significant fear of catching the virus.
So, as the world seems to care less and less about COVID, ask yourself: Do you?