//EDITOR’S LETTER –

NICKY FURNISS

When I was a child, there were two occasions when I was convinced I was gravely ill. And not because I didn’t get the ice cream I wanted, or some boy had teased me. Nope, for legitimate medical reasons. The first time was in Grade 4 when my best friend ended up in hospital for appendicitis. She was the first person I had ever visited in hospital, and while the hospital food looked tasty, I was rather appalled by the tubes and beeps and sickly looking people everywhere. Not long after this, I experienced one of the worst tummy aches I have ever experienced, and immediately assumed – armed as I was with new medical insight – that I definitely had appendicitis too. It was a harrowing few hours – so much so that I didn’t bother factoring in all the rubbish I had just eaten at a classmate’s birthday party! The second time my self-diagnosis occurred, I spent the whole night crying into my pillow and worrying about the pain and anguish it would cause my parents when I told them I had breast cancer. Having a nurse for a mum means that I had always been very well versed on primary health concerns and knew all about checking for lumps – which I did (when I remembered). On this particular occasion, I definitely found a lump. Yup, felt it again, and again, and it was still there. I eventually broke the news to my mother the next morning and showed her where it was. “Darling, that’s a rib,” she responded before carrying on making breakfast. Rookie mistake... but perhaps one I would not have made if I had actually waited till I grew breasts before doing a breast exam. And that is exactly what all of us should be doing in the current COVID-19 pandemic: Don’t jump to conclusions, heed the advice of professionals, and make sure you have the “correct” symptoms before panicking and possibly diverting medical care and testing away from people who may desperately need it – and for conditions that may be far more life-threatening than the corona virus. Panicking – and binge buying – tend to have a domino effect, and a rapid one at that.You see a person in the supermarket with a laden trolley and think,“Oh, shoot, if I don’t do the same, I may miss out.” You do this without actually stopping to think how this will affect other people who can only afford to buy small amounts of food or medical products at a time. Or someone posts yet another pic of empty supermarket shelves (some of which aren’t even from this year), and the next minute you’re grabbing your car keys and heading out the door, without stopping to think that our supply chains are operational and shelves are being restocked. Or your co-worker is sniffly (which isn’t a main COVID-19 symptom, by the way) and you douse yourself in rubbing alcohol and head to the nearest doctor who is needed for people who actually do have diagnosed conditions. Or you panic-cancel your flight only scheduled for September – “just in case” – and stop supporting the little café on the corner, whose owner is now watching his livelihood trickling away while your car is bulging at the seams with two months’ worth of tinned food. Rather, let’s aim to stay calm, to not spread potentially panic-inducing content to social media, to buy enough for the week, but not the next two months, and to rather self-isolate yourself if you’re feeling unwell and monitor how you feel, as opposed to banging down the nearest doctor’s door. And, finally, listen to mum – or in this case the medical experts – because I guarantee that not every common cold is COVID-19, just like not every rib bump is cause to cry yourself to sleep at night.

Safe travels, Nicky