SALON

Monday, Mar 4, 2013 5:18 PM UTC

Thanks for nothing, Purell!

I can't take a vacation without getting horribly ill. This year, I hope to put an end to my horrible streak

By

Topics: The Weeklings, Purell, Vacations, sickness, Flu, Flu Season,

Thanks for nothing, Purell!
This article originally appeared on The Weeklings.

The Weeklings MY HISTORY OF getting sick just prior to going on vacation began years ago when I almost ruined the first international trip with my partner, Tony. Days before we were to leave for France, I came down with a horrible cold accompanied by a severe sinus infection, and the doctor advised me not to fly. “So, are we going or not?” Tony said, like a 12-year-old preparing himself for disappointment.

That was just the first time my congested nasal passages threatened to sideline a highly anticipated getaway. Now we’re about to take a big trip at the beginning of March, and I absolutely cannot be ailing. Not this time.

I have never been accused of being a hypochondriac or germaphobe. I have always freely shared water and food, hugged and kissed friends and relatives with abandon, and wrapped my palms around dirty subway handrails when there was no room to sit. That is, until the beginning of this year. 2013 began with flu running wild through New York, and I suddenly transformed into a Purell-toting member of the Howie Mandel-Woody Allen club, where our motto is, keep away from me you germ-infested person.

My anxiety level spiked over any possible exposure to malicious microbes. Oh my god, I just touched that door handle. Calm down. Just don’t touch your face. Uh-oh. I have an itch in the corner of my eye. Wash your hands!

When a waiter’s index finger lightly brushed up against one of the tines of my fork as he lay my plate down, I used the spoon instead. I announced to friends and family to warn me before they saw me if they felt a sniffle coming on, so I could decide not to see them. I chose to forgo all large social functions, where it would be impossible to keep track of any potential carriers.

Tony lovingly warned me months ago. “You better not get sick.” I had officially been put on notice.

This upcoming trip has been years in the making. Five years ago, we came up with a plan to go away for six weeks encompassing both our birthdays (we’re a month apart and celebrating big ones this year). We saved our money and last April I cashed in all our frequent flyer miles to book the difficult-to-get round trip business class seats. We’re beginning with his birthday in March in Sydney, Australia, and ending with mine in April in Hong Kong. In between there will be scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef, hiking and kayaking along the coast of New Zealand, the Lord of the Rings Tour (for Tony) and possibly even some bungee jumping.

It was being billed as The Trip of a Lifetime. Everyone kept affirming it: “Wow, this is the trip of a lifetime!” And it will be. But that only served to add to my already heightened anxiety. I constantly felt the pressure not to come down with anything this time. If I got sick, the entire trip would have to be canceled. It’s not like we’d be able to rebook a flight a few days later. And I doubt we’d again be able to put aside such a large block of time. This was an all in or all out proposition. Tony would kill me.

Years ago, the doctor had advised me to cancel our trip to France because my sinuses were inflamed. “Just give me some prednisone,” I told him. However, midway through the 8-hour flight I was questioning my decision, as the altitude exacerbated my symptoms, causing the pain and pressure in my ears to feel like my head was exploding. It was hell at 35,000 feet.

Then there was the long weekend in Florida that had to be cancelled after another sinus infection kept me grounded. There was also the occasion of my 40th birthday when Tony had booked a room in a very nice New York hotel for the weekend, so we could be tourists in our own city. I was only traveling 47 blocks uptown, and still I got sick two days before our cab departure up Sixth Avenue. And I’ll never be allowed to forget that Christmas getaway to Las Vegas when a particularly nasty sinus infection precipitated a frantic last-minute visit to the E.N.T., an emergency acupuncture treatment and a call to the airline changing our departure to the following day, Christmas Eve.

“Why do you always get sick before we go away?” Tony yelled.

I didn’t know. Bad nasal passages that don’t drain well?

Now was my chance for redemption. I had spent months planning the perfect adventure for us. Tony was so looking forward to it, and I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing that sad, angry look on his face if I ruined the big birthday trip. Not to mention we’d lose a substantial amount of money with a last-minute cancellation. Each blow of my nose was going to cost us $1,500.

Television and newspapers were buzzing about the nationwide flu epidemic. It was a topic of conversation all around town. Flu. Flu. Flu. The governor of New York had declared a statewide health emergency. I was freaked. Every day someone else I knew had been felled. One by one they succumbed, like a horror movie where I was the only human in town, trying to stay a step ahead of the zombies who were attempting to eat my brain, or in this case, breathe on me with their ghastly germs.

Rogue sneezes and coughs from passersby sent me reeling, agitated for days, waiting to see if I came down with any symptoms. I washed my hands every time I touched anything. If my hands weren’t dry and cracked, I wasn’t washing enough.

A few weeks ago, I ran into a friend on Seventh Avenue. He grabbed me and gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said.

“You too,” I said, pulling away from him. “How are you?”

“Oh, I have this horrible cold.”

I saw my friend’s lips continue to move, but all I heard was the faint buzz of white noise in my head. I felt like that line in the movie Death Becomes Her, when Meryl Streep’s character is cautioned about the side effects after she drinks the potion, “Now a warning?” I fast-forwarded a few weeks, envisioning our luggage sitting by the door, Tony clenching his crumpled boarding pass as I lay on a gurney flanked by discarded tissues, attached to an IV, being attended to by a nurse.

After I walked away from my virulent friend, I Purelled my entire face. Had I really just rubbed my face with alcohol in broad daylight on the corner of Seventh Avenue and 15th Street? I had crossed over to a dark place and become a crazed germaphobe. I went home and waited for it, but after a few days I showed no symptoms.

I knew I was being overly cautious, but an ounce of Purell is worth a pound of Tamiflu.

Then, in February, four weeks from the day we were to leave, there was a scratch in the back of my throat. Don’t get crazy. It’s just the dry winter air. Have some tea.Then my eyes began burning. You’re fine. It’s just allergies, or dust—you are not sick!My body began to ache. My head was clogged. My temperature rose. THE FLU!

But I had been so careful. No gym, no movies, no crowded public gathering spots, minimal socializing, putting on gloves before touching door handles, carrying my own small pen in lieu of using the spore-laden one at cash registers, and placing a moratorium on hugs until landing safely back home at JFK in April. I even had a flu shot back in November, though it’s only 60% effective—naturally I fell into the other 40%.

How did this happen? I began a mental forensic investigation to try and figure out where I went wrong and how I was exposed. Was it that suspiciously nasal-sounding man in my building who exhaled in my direction as he walked by? Was it the consumptive woman on the elevator who coughed onto the back of my neck? The checkout lady at the supermarket who touched my cans of tuna after rubbing her nose?

I now have 10 days for my lingering flu symptoms (and yes, another sinus infection) to leave my body, and stay illness-free, before I board that Qantas flight for the 23-hour journey across the Pacific. Yes, it would really suck if we had to cancel, but I remind myself that my 16-year relationship is stronger than the flu. Tony would forgive me, eventually. Life would go on, evil pathogens and all.

So, once again, I fulfilled the prophecy of my pre-travel ailment. I tried to control my environment to keep from getting sick, and I got sick anyway. Apparently, you can do all the right things, and turn yourself into an anti-social, germ phobic lunatic, and still be exposed. At least this time I was fortunate it happened weeks before, instead of only days, giving me time to recuperate. But now that better be the extent of it. Just in case, I went to the health food store/apothecary up the street and loaded up on herbal extracts like elderberry, garlic and olive leaf as a defense against wayward germs and to bolster my immune system to fight them. I also began a new hand washing ritual: wash, rinse, dry, Purell, repeat. All the while, singing several rousing choruses ofHappy Birthday To You.

Yes, I know, it’s crazy. But I’m not taking any chances. There are all sorts of viruses still lurking out there (ironically, one of them is a stomach flu from Australia). I don’t want to tempt fate. We haven’t left yet.

[Editor's note: As of publication, Jeff has a few days until he departs. And, a sinus infection. He will be traveling this time with both antibiotics and prednisone. He is threatening never to travel again.]

Jeff Nishball

More Jeff Nishball.

You Might Also Like

More Related Stories

Featured Slide Shows

7 motorist-friendly camping sites

close X
  • Share on Twitter
  • Share on Facebook
  • Thumbnails
  • Fullscreen
  • 1 of 9

Sponsored Post

  • White River National Forest via Lower Crystal Lake, Colorado
    For those OK with the mainstream, White River Forest welcomes more than 10 million visitors a year, making it the most-visited recreation forest in the nation. But don’t hate it for being beautiful; it’s got substance, too. The forest boasts 8 wilderness areas, 2,500 miles of trail, 1,900 miles of winding service system roads, and 12 ski resorts (should your snow shredders fit the trunk space). If ice isn’t your thing: take the tire-friendly Flat Tops Trail Scenic Byway — 82 miles connecting the towns of Meeker and Yampa, half of which is unpaved for you road rebels.
    fs.usda.gov/whiteriveryou


    Image credit: Getty

  • Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest via Noontootla Creek, Georgia
    Boasting 10 wildernesses, 430 miles of trail and 1,367 miles of trout-filled stream, this Georgia forest is hailed as a camper’s paradise. Try driving the Ridge and Valley Scenic Byway, which saw Civil War battles fought. If the tall peaks make your engine tremble, opt for the relatively flat Oconee National Forest, which offers smaller hills and an easy trail to the ghost town of Scull Shoals. Scaredy-cats can opt for John’s Mountain Overlook, which leads to twin waterfalls for the sensitive sightseer in you.
    fs.usda.gov/conf


    Image credit: flickr/chattoconeenf

  • Nordhouse Dunes Wilderness Area via Green Road, Michigan
    The only national forest in Lower Michigan, the Huron-Mainstee spans nearly 1 million acres of public land. Outside the requisite lush habitat for fish and wildlife on display, the Nordhouse Dunes Wilderness Area is among the biggest hooks for visitors: offering beach camping with shores pounded by big, cerulean surf. Splash in some rum and you just might think you were in the Caribbean.
    fs.usda.gov/hmnf


    Image credit: umich.edu

  • Canaan Mountain via Backcountry Canaan Loop Road, West Virginia
    A favorite hailed by outdoorsman and author Johnny Molloy as some of the best high-country car camping sites anywhere in the country, you don’t have to go far to get away. Travel 20 miles west of Dolly Sods (among the busiest in the East) to find the Canaan Backcountry (for more quiet and peace). Those willing to leave the car for a bit and foot it would be remiss to neglect day-hiking the White Rim Rocks, Table Rock Overlook, or the rim at Blackwater River Gorge.
    fs.usda.gov/mnf


    Image credit: Getty

  • Mt. Rogers NRA via Hurricane Creek Road, North Carolina
    Most know it as the highest country they’ll see from North Carolina to New Hampshire. What they may not know? Car campers can get the same grand experience for less hassle. Drop the 50-pound backpacks and take the highway to the high country by stopping anywhere on the twisting (hence the name) Hurricane Road for access to a 15-mile loop that boasts the best of the grassy balds. It’s the road less travelled, and the high one, at that.
    fs.usda.gov/gwj


    Image credit: wikipedia.org

  • Long Key State Park via the Overseas Highway, Florida
    Hiking can get old; sometimes you’d rather paddle. For a weekend getaway of the coastal variety and quieter version of the Florida Keys that’s no less luxe, stick your head in the sand (and ocean, if snorkeling’s your thing) at any of Long Key’s 60 sites. Canoes and kayaks are aplenty, as are the hot showers and electric power source amenities. Think of it as the getaway from the typical getaway.
    floridastateparks.org/longkey/default.cfm


    Image credit: floridastateparks.org

  • Grand Canyon National Park via Crazy Jug Point, Arizona
    You didn’t think we’d neglect one of the world’s most famous national parks, did you? Nor would we dare lead you astray with one of the busiest parts of the park. With the Colorado River still within view of this cliff-edge site, Crazy Jug is a carside camper’s refuge from the troops of tourists. Find easy access to the Bill Hall Trail less than a mile from camp, and descend to get a peek at the volcanic Mt. Trumbull. (Fear not: It’s about as active as your typical lazy Sunday in front of the tube, if not more peaceful.)
    fs.usda.gov/kaibab


    Image credit: flickr/Irish Typepad

  • As the go-to (weekend) getaway car for fiscally conscious field trips with friends, the 2013 MINI Convertible is your campground racer of choice, allowing you and up to three of your co-pilots to take in all the beauty of nature high and low. And with a fuel efficiency that won’t leave you in the latter, you won’t have to worry about being left stranded (or awkwardly asking to go halfsies on gas expenses).


    Image credit: miniusa.com

  • Recent Slide Shows

  • Share on Twitter
  • Share on Facebook
  • Thumbnails
  • Fullscreen
  • 1 of 9

Related Videos

Comments

 17 Comments

Comment Preview

Your name will appear as username ( settings | log out )

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href=""> <b> <em> <strong> <i> <blockquote>

Salon is proud to feature content from The Weeklings, whose superheroic mission is this: a single essay a day, every single day.  Their core company of seven contributors—one for each day of theweek—covers politics, sex, music, art, literature, film, truth, justice and the American way. Save the day with The Weeklings!

follow salon

Most Read

Popular on Reddit

links from salon.com

From Around the Web

Presented by Scribol
listener_new_rect The Listener: "The Joker": Laughing at life's deepest sorrows