Flu Sick Quotes

A friend called the other day. 'How are you?' she said. The sun was shining, the sky a merciless blue. It was only eleven in the morning but I had been awake since three twenty. I was in bed because, as usual, I could think of nowhere else to go. I said that I was feeling low. Low is the depressive's euphemism for despair. She said: 'How can you be depressed on a day like this?' I wanted to say: 'If I had flu, would you ask me how I could be sick on a day like this?

This used to be a mean monster until he got sick one winter with the flu & stayed in bed & watched too much Little House on the Prairie & now the littlest thing & he starts to cry.

Well, we should go get our flu shots.” “I’m good.” “You got one already?” “No.” “I’m pretty sure it’s mandatory for everyone.” The set of Adam’s shoulders clearly broadcasted that he was, in fact, not everyone. “I never get sick.” “I doubt it.” “You shouldn’t.” “Hey, the flu is more serious than you might think.” “It’s not that bad.” “It is, especially for people like you.” “Like me?” “You know . . . people of a certain age.

If someone you know gets sick from taking a flu shot, you will be less likely to get one even if it is statistically safe. In fact, if you see a story on the news about someone dying from the flu shot, that one isolated case could me enough to keep you away from the vaccine forever. On the other hand, if you hear a news story about how eating sausage leads to anal cancer, you will be skeptical, because it has never happened to anyone you know, and sausage, after all, is delicious. The tendency to react more rapidly and to a greater degree when considering information you are familiar with is called the availability heuristic.

Oh, please, I never get sick. I’ve had my flu shot.” I roll my eyes and snort, which really isn’t advisable with a stuffed nose. “And have the immune system of a god,” he adds.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth.

Truthfully, I was pretty sure I was obsessed, and I didn’t give a single fuck about it anymore. I just wanted to keep feeding it. Fucking her, kissing her, eating her out, over and over, until I was dead. The idea that I couldn’t made me feel sick, like I was catching a bad case of the flu or something.

If I’m just sick, then I can take some aspirin, get some sleep, and I’ll feel better. I’ll be me again. Eventually. But if I admit I’m crushed, if I acknowledge that my heart has been shattered into a thousand fucking shards…then I don’t known when I’ll ever be all right again. Maybe never. So I get back into bed. To wait it out. Till I’m over the flu.

And so whether you were six with the chicken pox, nine with the flu, twelve with a broken arm, or fifteen with menstrual cramps, you could count on sixty solid minutes with the company of that old seventies set, lots of one-dollar bets, and advice to neuter your pet, all crunched into the best sick-day game show yet!

It’s no secret to any woman that men turn into big babies when they are sick. Jake got the flu last year, and Rose almost strangled him before it was over. A woman can work twelve hours with PMS and a heavy flow and not complain; men can stub their toe and be bedbound for a month.

Once, in a three-day taping that included several sadists, the material was so overwhelming that both the film crew and I got sick - I with a sinus infection, and the entire film crew with a flu so severe they had to delay their departure from the motel. Our immune systems had weakened, I believe, from the beating out souls had taken.

The worst part about being sick is not getting any sympathy from my wife. She says I have the "man-flu." The Urban Dictionary defines "man-flu" as "an illness that causes the male to be completely helpless and sicker than any other family member." In females it is known as a cold.

The minute I set eyes on your mother, I felt this thing happen in my gut, like the flu bug hit me worse than any sickness I’ve ever had, worse than the bubonic plague.” His love analogy could use a little work…

What do we learn from all of this? COVID-19 is a disease that makes some people sick, proves fatal to a few, and does nothing to the rest. Like any annual flu.

When I started everything, and by everything, I mean life, suicide was a joke. If I have to ride in that car with you, I'll slash my wrists with a butter knife. It was as real as a unicorn. No, less than that. It was as real as the explosion around an animated coyote. A hundred thousand people threaten to kill themselves every day and make a hundred thousand other people laugh, because like a cartoon, it's funny and meaningless. Gone even before you turn off the TV. Then it was a disease. Something other people got, if they lived someplace dirty enough to get the infection under their nails. It was not a pleasant dinner table conversation, Cole, and like the flu, it only killed the weak. If you'd been exposed, you didn't talk about it. Wouldn't want to put other people off their feed. It wasn't until high school that it became a possibility. Not an immediate one, not like It is a possibility I will download this album because the guitar is so sick it makes me want to dance, but possibility in the way that some people said when they grew up, they might be a fireman or an astronaut or a CPA who works late every single weekend while his wife has an affair with the guy who drives the DHL truck. It became a possibility like Maybe when I grow up, I will be dead.

Hand-washing is a potentially effective behavior that can lessen the threat of any individual getting sick from the flu or other infectious diseases, but without organized vaccine programs or quarantine plans, quelling disease outbreaks is unlikely.

Sick" "I cannot go to school today," Said little Peggy Ann McKay. "I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash and purple bumps. My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, I'm going blind in my right eye. My tonsils are as big as rocks, I've counted sixteen chicken pox And there's one more--that's seventeen, And don't you think my face looks green? My leg is cut--my eyes are blue-- It might be instamatic flu. I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, I'm sure that my left leg is broke-- My hip hurts when I move my chin, My belly button's caving in, My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained, My 'pendix pains each time it rains. My nose is cold, my toes are numb. I have a sliver in my thumb. My neck is stiff, my voice is weak, I hardly whisper when I speak. My tongue is filling up my mouth, I think my hair is falling out. My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight, My temperature is one-o-eight. My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, There is a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what? What's that? What's that you say? You say today is. . .Saturday? G'bye, I'm going out to play!

The dancing sickness took place during the latter part of the fifteenth century. Bubonic plague--the black death--decimated Europe near the end of the fourteenth. Whooping cough near the end of the seventeenth, and the first known outbreaks of influenza near the end of the nineteenth. We've become so used to the idea of the flu--it seems almost like the common cold to us, doesn't it?--that no one but the historians seem to know that a hundred years ago it didn't exist.

Open-plan offices have been found to reduce productivity and impair memory. They’re associated with high staff turnover. They make people sick, hostile, unmotivated, and insecure. Open-plan workers are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure and elevated stress levels and to get the flu; they argue more with their colleagues;

It's like when two people have the flu," Blair says. "They know how the other feels, but they're too sick to nurse each other. They both need to get better first.

2020 was the year of masks.

USDA’s chief flu researcher David Swayne recommended producers try to recoup the costs of culling by selling sick birds for human consumption.

After my flu-like illness, I was telling the doctors my progressing sickness felt like Altitude Sickness!

Open-plan offices have been found to reduce productivity and impair memory. They’re associated with high staff turnover. They make people sick, hostile, unmotivated, and insecure. Open-plan workers are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure and elevated stress levels and to get the flu; they argue more with their colleagues; they worry about coworkers eavesdropping on their phone calls and spying on their computer screens. They have fewer personal and confidential conversations with colleagues. They’re often subject to loud and uncontrollable noise, which raises heart rates; releases cortisol, the body’s fight-or-flight “stress” hormone; and makes people socially distant, quick to anger, aggressive, and slow to help others.

What do you mean? He's sick." Penelope nodded. "his eyes are clear, and he's way too in control right now for Scorpius. I think he has the flu." Damon reared back oddly insulted. "The flu? You think I have the flu.

A mountain of recent data on open-plan offices from many different industries corroborates the results of the games. Open-plan offices have been found to reduce productivity and impair memory. They’re associated with high staff turnover. They make people sick, hostile, unmotivated, and insecure. Open-plan workers are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure and elevated stress levels and to get the flu; they argue more with their colleagues; they worry about coworkers eavesdropping on their phone calls and spying on their computer screens. They have fewer personal and confidential conversations with colleagues. They’re often subject to loud and uncontrollable noise, which raises heart rates; releases cortisol, the body’s fight-or-flight “stress” hormone; and makes people socially distant, quick to anger, aggressive, and slow to help others.

If a friend is sick with the flu, or God forbid, something worse like cancer, everyone is sympathetic. But depression? Fear of being in your own head? Folks just want you to get over it and if you can’t, you’re a weak-ass sadsack.

Open-plan offices have been found to reduce productivity and impair memory. They’re associated with high staff turnover. They make people sick, hostile, unmotivated, and insecure. Open-plan workers are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure and elevated stress levels and to get the flu; they argue more with their colleagues; they worry about coworkers eavesdropping on their phone calls and spying on their computer screens. They have fewer personal and confidential conversations with colleagues.

An hour seldom passed in which she didn’t either sneeze, pick her nose, or wipe a bogie onto her snot-encrusted sleeve. But she had such a lovely colour. That pink glow which comes with the flu used to engulf her like an aura. It suited her. She always looked so damn effervescent.

As a group, they looked wounded. It was funny how men could look that way. For years they could violently finger and push just the tip in, all the while saying, Just the tip, just for a second, not like a question but like a mantra. They could thoughtlessly fuck you from behind, their hips on hydraulics. They could be tired, sick, sad, rageful over having the flu, yet their hips would be completely fine moving back and forth like a car part. Men were dependable fuckers. But suddenly they could look sad like that. After all, they were only trying to make conversation.

I can honestly say, with complete disappointment, that I have never purged in my life, because I have what I call a barfing disorder. Every time I puke, even when I’m sick with the flu or from food poisoning, I think I’m going to die. Weird, I know. No disrespect to you, Mary Kate. Rock on.

Top 10 Actions to Reduce Your Risk for Illness Taking these actions today can reduce your risk of becoming sick, especially for the two most dreaded diseases in later life: cancer and dementia. 1. Eat real food on a regular schedule. 2. Avoid vitamins and supplements. 3. Discuss aspirin and statins with your doctor when you are staring at age forty. 4. Follow the prescribed cancer screening schedules. 5. Exercise regularly and move during the day. 6. Maintain a healthy weight. 7. Avoid tobacco products. 8. Avoid direct sun exposure without sunscreen. 9. Avoid sources of inflammation. 10. Get a yearly flu shot.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them.

The families can’t visit, so they can’t see the patients hooked up to wires and machines. They can’t see with their own eyes how sick they are. To them the patient is someone who was perfectly healthy a week ago, with no chronic illness. They keep hearing on the news that there’s a 99% survival rate; that it’s no worse than the flu.

Once when I was in graduate school, I got a terrible case of the flu and dropped a good deal of weight in a short amount of time. When I returned to campus, a professor said, “You look good! Did you lose weight?” When I responded that I had lost weight because I’d been seriously ill, she just shrugged and said, “Well, however it happened, looks good!” I remember that moment as such a clear example that much of what we claim to be health-based concern about other women’s weight is not at all. It’s nothing more than an ill-disguised bit of buy-in to a culture that says our worth is determined by our body size and that less is always more, no matter how we get there.

The 'Flu Season' is a myth. What we're told is that the Flu increases in the Winter because we're inside more with other people. The real reason is, Flu is more prevalent in the Fall and Winter because there is less sunlight and humans sweat less during these seasons. Why does that make a difference? Because our immune system needs Vitamin D and plenty of sweating, which removes toxins in our bodies and helps keep our immune system work properly, to help keep us from getting the Flu. Your doctor will never tell you this because the American Medical Association (AMA), who dictates the curriculums that are taught in colleges, make sure medical students never learn this information.

he took three potentially life-saving decisions. First, he eliminated rush hour by staggering the opening times of factories, shops and cinemas. Second, he established a clearing-house system under which 150 emergency health centres were set up across the city to coordinate the care and reporting of the sick. And third and most controversially, he kept the schools open.12

A Contagion Abroad by Stewart Stafford Overblown epidemic, Inferno pandemic, Death takes a vacation. Bird flu, Bat stew, Churning, gagging virus brew, Man the panic stations. Contaminate, capitulate, Sickly state, funeral date, A lost generation. Depopulate, inoculate, Virologists thwart fate, The world's rehabilitation. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.

Open-plan offices have been found to reduce productivity and impair memory. They’re associated with high staff turnover. They make people sick, hostile, unmotivated, and insecure. Open-plan workers are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure and elevated stress levels and to get the flu; they argue more with their colleagues; they worry about coworkers eavesdropping on their phone calls and spying on their computer screens. They have fewer personal and confidential conversations with colleagues. They’re often subject to loud and uncontrollable noise, which raises heart rates; releases cortisol, the body’s fight-or-flight “stress” hormone; and makes people socially distant, quick to anger, aggressive, and slow to help others. Indeed,

I’d made “Fever” Mom’s ring tone because the song was about getting the flu from being too close to someone. I thought it was a good choice because she holds me tight and kisses me all the time and she’s always blowing her nose on me and it makes me sick and gives me fever—but now I wasn’t sure it was the right ring tone after all. I didn’t want to have a sexy ring tone for Mom on my cellphone!

It would kill the losers like him; it would kill Mathers but not that scumbag screw who had hired Mathers because the screw had THE KEY. It wasn’t going to kill the governor or the warden – the guard who said the warden was sick had obviously been a fucking liar. It wasn’t going to kill the parole officers, the county sheriffs, or the FBI agents. The flu would not touch those who had THE KEY. It wouldn’t dare.

It was a fascinating hint that flu might have a heritable component, but other studies failed to replicate the finding. Then in January 2011, in the midst of the annual flu season in France, a two-year-old girl was admitted to the intensive care unit of the Necker Hospital for Sick Children in Paris, suffering from ARDS (acute respiratory distress syndrome). Doctors saved her life, and one of them, Jean-Laurent Casanova, sequenced her genome. He wanted to know if it held the key to why an otherwise healthy child had nearly died of a disease that most children shrug off. It turned out that the girl had inherited a genetic defect that meant she was unable to produce interferon, that all-important first-line defence against viruses. As a result, her besieged immune system went straight to plan B: a massive inflammatory response similar to the one pathologists saw in 1918.

We are Volunteers Fighting Disease, And we’re cheerful all day long. If someone said that we were sad, That person would be wrong. We visit people who are sick, And try to make them smile, Even if their noses bleed, Or if they cough up bile. Tra la la, Fiddle dee dee, Hope you get well soon. Ho ho ho, hee hee hee, Have a heart-shaped balloon. We visit people who are ill, And try to make them laugh, Even when the doctor says He must saw them in half. We sing and sing all night and day, And then we sing some more. We sing to boys with broken bones And girls whose throats are sore. Tra la la, Fiddle dee dee, Hope you get well soon. Ho ho ho, hee hee hee, Have a heart-shaped balloon. We sing to men with measles, And to women with the flu, And if you breathe in deadly germs, We’ll probably sing to you. Tra la la, Fiddle dee dee, Hope you get well soon. Ho ho ho, hee hee hee, Have a heart-shaped balloon.

Thank you, Sick Husband, because what I mistakenly thought was just your cold with a minor fever is apparently something closer to onset Black Plague with a side of liver disease. According to your indications, you’re presenting pandemic symptoms from Europe, circa 1300 AD. We should alert the CDC! I mean, sure, I pulled off carpool, dinner, homework tutoring, and four kids’ practices last week when I had strep and the flu, but you just stay in bed with your scratchy throat. We don’t want to infect the children.

Epidemiologists-scientists who study the spread of disease-use a special number to describe how contagious a virus is. It's called the basic reproduction number, or R0 for short. It's complicated to calculate but simple to understand-it counts how many people one sick person is expected to infect over the course of his or her illness. If I'm sick with a cold and I make two other people sick, the R0 of my virus is 2. Colds and seasonal flus typically have R0 values of around 1.5 to 2. The 1918 flu pandemic R0 was estimated to be 2 to 3, while diseases like polio and small pox have R0 values of around 5 to 7.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It’s my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth: I shut down again. I went blank. One minute I was spinning, and the next minute my mind was dragging itself around in a circle, like an old, arthritic dog trying to lie down. And then I just turned off and went to sleep, but not sleep in the way you do every night. Think a long, dark sleep where you don’t dream at all.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth: I shut down again. I went blank. One minute I was spinning, and the next minute my mind was dragging itself around in a circle, like an old, arthritic dog trying to lie down. And then I just turned off and went to sleep, but not sleep in the way you do every night. Think a long, dark sleep where you don't dream at all.

The last thing I remember ia an exquisitely beautiful green and silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist. The sound of rain on the roof of our house gently pulls me toward consciousness. I fight to return to sleep though, wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets, safe at home. I'm vaguely aware that my head aches. Possibly I have the flu and this is why I'm allowed to stay in bed, even though I can tell I've been asleep a long time. My mother's hand strokes my cheek and I don't push is away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don't trust her. Then there's a voice, the wrong voice, not my mother's and i'm scared.

Edilio lay on the steps of town hall feeling as weak as a kitten. He had barely heard Caine’s big speech. He couldn’t have cared less. There was nothing he could do, not with delirium spinning his head. He coughed hard, too hard. It wracked his body each time he did it so that he dreaded the next cough. His stomach was clenched in knots. Every muscle in his body ached. He was vaguely aware that he was saying something in between coughs. “Mamá. Mamá. Sálvame.” Save me, mother. “Santa María, sálvame,” he begged, and coughed so hard he smashed his head against the steps. Death was near, he felt it. Death reached through his swimming, disordered mind and he felt its cold hand clutching his heart. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.

Open-plan offices have been found to reduce productivity and impair memory. They’re associated with high staff turnover. They make people sick, hostile, unmotivated, and insecure. Open-plan workers are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure and elevated stress levels and to get the flu; they argue more with their colleagues; they worry about coworkers eavesdropping on their phone calls and spying on their computer screens. They have fewer personal and confidential conversations with colleagues. They’re often subject to loud and uncontrollable noise, which raises heart rates; releases cortisol, the body’s fight-or-flight “stress” hormone; and makes people socially distant, quick to anger, aggressive, and slow to help others. Indeed, excessive stimulation seems to impede learning: a recent study found that people learn better after a quiet stroll through the woods than after a noisy walk down a city street.

He ran his hand across his forehead. His skin felt clammy. Fine time to be coming down with the flu, he thought, and he almost laughed at the absurdity of it. The president gets no sick days, he thought, because a president’s not supposed to be sick. He tried to focus on who at the oval table was speaking to him; they were all watching him—the vice-president, nervous and sly; Admiral Narramore, ramrod-straight in his uniform with a chestful of service decorations; General Sinclair, crusty and alert, his eyes like two bits of blue glass in his hard-seamed face; Secretary of Defense Hannan, who looked as kindly as anyone’s old grandfather but who was known as “Iron Hans” by both the press corps and his associates; General Chivington, the ranking authority on Soviet military strength; Chief of Staff Bergholz, crewcut and crisp in his ubiquitous dark blue pinstriped suit; and various other military officials and advisors

Today, such studies are illegal. Medical scientists cannot offer inducements like pardons to persuade prisoners to take part in their studies. Although they can award small cash payments to research subjects, they are forbidden from giving anyone so much money or such tempting favors that their compensations might constitute what ethicists term an inappropriate inducement, an irresistible temptation to join the study. Now, more than eighty years after the 1918 flu, people enter studies for several reasons—to get free medical care, to get an experimental drug that, they hope, might cure them of a disease like cancer or AIDS, or to help further scientific knowledge. In theory at least, study participants are supposed to be true volunteers, taking part in research of their own free will. But in 1918, such ethical arguments were rarely considered. Instead, the justification for a risky study with human beings was that it was better to subject a few to a great danger in order to save the many. Prisoners were thought to be the ideal study subjects. They could offer up their bodies for science and, if they survived, their pardons could be justified because they gave something back to society. The Navy inmates were perfect for another reason. Thirty-nine of them had never had influenza, as far as anyone knew. So they might be uniquely susceptible to the disease. If the doctors wanted to deliberately transmit the 1918 flu, what better subjects? Was influenza really so easily transmitted? the doctors asked. Why did some people get it and others not? Why did it kill the young and healthy? Could the wartime disruptions and movements of troops explain the spread of the flu? If it was as contagious as it seemed, how was it being spread? What kind of microorganism was causing the illness? The normal way to try to answer such questions would be to study the spread of the disease in animals. Give the disease to a few cages of laboratory rats, or perhaps to some white rabbits. Isolate whatever was causing the illness. Show how it spread and test ways to protect animals—and people—against the disease. But influenza, it seemed, was a uniquely human disease. No animal was known to be susceptible to it. Medical researchers felt they had no choice but to study influenza in people. Either the Navy doctors were uncommonly persuasive or the enticement of a pardon was overwhelmingly compelling. For whatever reason, the sixty-two men agreed to be subjects in the medical experiment. And so the study began. First the sailors were transferred to a quarantine station on Gallops Island in Boston Harbor. Then the Navy doctors did their best to give the men the flu. Influenza is a respiratory disease—it is spread from person to person, presumably carried on droplets of mucus sprayed in the air when sick people cough or sneeze, or carried on their hands and spread when the sick touch the healthy. Whatever was causing the flu should be present in mucus taken from the ill. The experiments, then, were straightforward. The Navy doctors collected mucus from men who were desperately ill with the flu, gathering thick viscous secretions from their noses and throats. They sprayed mucus from flu patients into the noses and throats of some men, and dropped it into other men’s eyes. In one attempt, they swabbed mucus from the back of the nose of a man with the flu and then directly swabbed that mucus into the back of a volunteer’s nose.

why is it that two people get coughed on directly in the face (gross!) by the same person on the subway, but only one person gets the flu? Dr. Robert Young gives a great analogy to this by pointing out that if you throw seeds on concrete, they cannot grow. But if you throw the seeds on fertile soil, they grow and flourish.1 And so it is with germs and sickness. Dr. T. Colin Campbell’s findings in The China Study support Beauchamp’s theories. Campbell discussed how when two experimental groups were exposed to the same amount of a carcinogenic substance (such as aflatoxin), the group consuming the higher levels of animal protein and dairy was the one that developed disease (cancer), and the group consuming the lower levels of these foods did not.2 As Beauchamp theorized, the first group had the right “terrain” for sickness to develop.

Lilus shivers between two humid sheets. She doesn't know why she's sick. The illness surged without warning, traitorous, like a great wave of solitude. Health is an easily lost object:"But I had it in my hand, only a little while ago I saw it." That is how her illness was:"But only yesterday I was running on the stairway." Lilus's illness wasn't a cold, nor the flu, nor a stomach ache. She tended to fall ill over something said to her. Upon hearing something unexpected, she became afraid. She wouldn't turn to anyone, nor did she want to be babied. Secretly she embraced her illness. She'd let herself be invaded by the feeling, and it would seem that the whole world penetrated her being.

Simply put, we tend to repeat our errors. We want to be successful, so we increase our volume and intensity to make the big leap. But then we find ourselves hurt, injured, or sick. Of course, a week or so after the flu, we hit our season’s best mark. Next year, we do it again—train too hard, get hurt, then improve. By the third year… Well, now it is “Fool me twice, shame on me.

Open-plan offices have been found to reduce productivity and impair memory. They’re associated with high staff turnover. They make people sick, hostile, unmotivated, and insecure. Open-plan workers are more likely to suffer from high blood pressure and elevated stress levels and to get the flu; they argue more with their colleagues; they worry about coworkers eavesdropping on their phone calls and spying on their computer screens. They have fewer personal and confidential conversations with colleagues. They’re often subject to loud and uncontrollable noise, which raises heart rates; releases cortisol, the body’s fight-or-flight “stress” hormone; and makes people socially distant, quick to anger, aggressive, and slow to help others.

In 1918 and 1919 came the Great Influenza, the Spanish Flu.  The only global pandemic in modern times.  Fifty million to a hundred million dead.  How did Tibet fare this time, you ask?” McAlister’s face was stoic, immobile. Suddenly angry, Undertaker said, “No. You don’t ask, Dr. McAlister; you don’t ask because you already know.  Tibet was barely touched.  A few sick, no one reported dead.

please listen to me: There is someone out there who loves you. Please hold on for dear life. Things are never as dark as they seem. Talk with someone immediately and let them know how you’re feeling, in the same way you’d talk to them if you had a terrible flu. “I’m feeling really sick. Can you help me?

Experience has shown that people have a low tolerance for mandatory health measures, and that such measures are most effective when they are voluntary, when they respect and depend on individual choice, and when they avoid the use of police powers. In 2007, the CDC issued guidelines for how to ensure maximum compliance with public health measures in a pandemic. Based partly on lessons learned in 1918, these recommended that measures only be made mandatory when the proportion of the sick who die rises above 1 per cent (remember that this proportion was at least 2.5 per cent for the Spanish flu). Using 2016 numbers, that means that more than 3 million Americans would have to die before the CDC would advise such a step – a measure of how counterproductive that organisation believes compulsion to be.

Henderson coauthored a paper in 2006 that refutes the Glass work and the CDC guidelines. The Henderson paper states, “Historically, it has been all but impossible to prevent influenza from being imported into a country or political jurisdiction, and there has been little evidence that any particular disease mitigation measure has significantly slowed the spread of flu. . . . The negative consequences of large-scale quarantine are so extreme (forced confinement of sick people with the well; complete restriction of movement of large populations . . .) that this mitigation measure should be eliminated from serious consideration. . . . Travel restrictions, such as closing airports . . . have historically been ineffective . . . and will likely be even less effective in the modern era.

the ones that kept the sick and the healthy apart–worked, as long as people complied.

The natural reservoir of influenza is generally considered to be birds, especially waterbirds. The big giveaway that a certain species plays the role of reservoir for a certain pathogen is that it doesn’t get sick from it.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It’s my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognisable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth: I shut down again. I went blank. One minute I was spinning, and the next minute my mind was dragging itself around in a circle, like an old, arthritic dog trying to lie down. And then I just turned off and went to sleep, but not sleep in the way you do every night. Think a long, dark sleep where you don’t dream at all.

As many as three-quarters of French troops fell sick that spring, and more than half the British force. Whole units were paralysed and makeshift military hospitals were bursting at their canvas seams.

fact that we are going to grow older, and all the difficulties inherent in aging; the fact that we are going to get sick; the fact that we are going to die; the fact that everything around us is going to keep changing and will eventually disappear. So, no matter how much exercise I get, or how much organic food I eat, I’ll die. All the vitamins and supplements in the world can’t keep me from sometimes catching cold or the flu, getting cancer or heart disease (or even the disease of alcoholism!). Plastic surgery, herbal elixirs, and skin creams can’t stop the fact of my aging; my car will eventually wear out, my roof will leak, my children will grow up and leave me, and my parents will die. I’m powerless over all these things. The Buddha saw how much suffering we create fighting with these facts, resisting and trying to circumvent aging, illness, death, and loss, and he realized that clear understanding and acceptance was the key to letting go of that suffering.

Western countries have been talking about pandemic preparedness since bird flu rang alarms in the early 2000s. This was especially true in the US, which was widely expected to be the country best prepared for something like this. But when Covid-19 hit the US, the plan was largely abandoned, while unexpected complications set in everywhere. Health workers didn’t have enough protective gear and ended up sick or in quarantine. Insurance rules meant people initially couldn’t afford to get tested. For weeks, they couldn’t get tests in any case because of problems with one test at the US CDC in Atlanta. Employees with no paid vacation came in to work, hoping it was just flu. The virus spread earlier and farther than surveillance systems could detect, partly due to years of cuts to public health.

Emily had been the only one home when we first had sex. I remember hearing her shouting from the deck. Cilla? Cilla? But I was down on the beach—Guy’s fingers pulling at my underwear, struggling with a condom. I barely had to do anything at all. Cilla, where are you? My sister’s voice, carried by the wind. “I haven’t been feeling very well,” I blurt out. “What’s wrong, flu? Those tourist sites are cesspools.” His concern is real, but his tenderness only makes me sadder because it isn’t the kind that’s between two lovers. Our relationship changed sometime after Dad got sick, or maybe right before. I was so busy with medications and doctor appointments and physical therapy and grocery shopping and cooking that I missed when it happened. A gradual shift, like the changing of a tide.

pandemics are lethal. Antigen shift guarantees that the new virus will infect huge numbers of people, but it does not guarantee that it will kill large numbers. The twentieth century saw three pandemics. The most recent new virus attacked in 1968, when the H3N2 “Hong Kong flu” spread worldwide with high morbidity but very low mortality—that is, it made many sick, but killed few. The “Asian flu,” an H2N2 virus, came in 1957; while nothing like 1918, this was still a violent pandemic. Then of course there

In 2007, the CDC issued guidelines for how to ensure maximum compliance with public health measures in a pandemic. Based partly on lessons learned in 1918, these recommended that measures only be made mandatory when the proportion of the sick who die rises above 1 per cent (remember that this proportion was at least 2.5 per cent for the Spanish flu). Using 2016 numbers, that means that more than 3 million Americans would have to die before the CDC would advise such a step–a measure of how counterproductive that organisation believes compulsion to be.

I see he gave you a ring,” Rupert remarked, glancing at the twinkling diamond on Lily’s finger. “I’m only wearing it because it won’t come off.” “Why did you put it on in the first place?” Lily sighed. “I didn’t—Caleb did.” “I see. We’ve come full circle, Lily—back to my original question, which you so neatly evaded. Do you love Caleb Halliday?” Lily lowered her head. “Yes,” she answered weakly. “I think about him all the time, and I get cold chills and hot flashes, just like when I had the flu. I even feel a little bit sick to my stomach.” “It’s love, all right,” Rupert said. He sounded very worldly wise for a schoolmaster who had only now gotten around to considering marriage. “And you don’t want to marry him because you think you might be like your mother?” Lily wanted to make her case by explaining how hot-blooded and wanton she was with Caleb, but it wouldn’t be delicate to speak too specifically of such things with a man. “It’s more than that,” she said. “I’ve got my heart set on a place of my own, and on finding my sisters. Caleb wants to leave the army and go back to Pennsylvania to live. Marrying him would change the whole course of my life.” “Love often does that.” Lily

Bruce went back and taught his students that drug addiction must have much less to do with the actual chemicals than we commonly assume. They had—like all of us—been told that one of the worst aspects of heroin addiction is the fierce and unbearable sickness of physical withdrawal. Henry Smith Williams believed this process was so harrowing it could kill you. But Bruce saw addicts in withdrawal all the time—and their symptoms were often minor:4 at worst, like a bad flu. This is so contrary to what we are told that it seems impossible, but doctors now very broadly agree it is the case. The real pain of withdrawal is the return of all the psychological pain that you were trying to put to sleep with heroin in the first place. Bruce

break?" She stared back at him, but speaking was beyond her. She was so taken aback by the concern and care he couldn't hide. This was just one more aspect of his personality that she was seeing, whether he wanted her to see it or not. She sucked in a ragged breath. She had one thought and one thought only. She was falling in love with the Neanderthal. **** During the evening and night, Logan fed her soup and made her drink Gatorade and lots of water. Lauren knew he'd called someone, she suspected it was his mother, because she'd heard him talking on the phone. After that, he timed her medicine and alternated between giving her ibuprofen and acetaminophen. He took care of her, and she left any worries she might have had to him. Since the following day was Friday, she already knew she wasn't going in to work, and so did her immediate boss. It had been more than obvious when Lauren had left with chills and a fever and he had called out, "See you Monday." She knew he didn't want her spreading what she had all over the office. So Lauren alternated between sleeping through the evening and night, and being taken care of by Logan. All she had to do on her own was pick her way to the bathroom, and a couple of times, she hadn't even had to do that. He'd lifted her up when she'd swayed a little too much for his liking, and deposited her in the bathroom and closed the door. He'd been there waiting for her, ready to carry her back after she opened the door. They watched some television together, and at about midnight, he carried her through to the bedroom and held her as she slept. Lauren couldn't ever remember having had so much fun being sick. She reveled in his care; she luxuriated in the undivided attention he was showing her. Nothing anyone had ever done for her had ever felt so . . . compelling. The next morning when she realized that he wasn't going to go to work, she rebelled against that. "I'm okay. I'm going to live. Please go to work." He frowned in obvious agitation. "Your fever might flare up again." "I just took the ibuprofen. I'll take some more meds in a couple of hours, okay?" He watched her as if debating the idea. "I think you still need me." God, yes, she needed him. "I'll be fine." She watched him warily, a thousand emotions bouncing around in her head. "You can come back after work if you want." He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "That's a given, baby." **** Lauren went back to work on Monday but was slow to fully get her strength back. Two weeks later, however, she was full steam ahead. She'd laid low at work, put a lot of stuff on the back burner as she recovered from what she guessed was a mild case of the flu. Then one day, feeling much better, she took a look at her upcoming calendar and almost flipped out. She had a full schedule packed into the next ten days or so, starting with an out of town trip. Logan took her out to dinner that evening, and after they'd eaten and she'd delayed as long as she could, she lowered the boom on him. After she told him about the trip, he turned in his seat to stare down at her. He said nothing for a moment, as if not trusting himself to speak. The waiter walked by, and Logan motioned for the check with a jerk of his hand. Every motion of his body indicated his heightened stress level. "Logan, you're overreacting," Lauren chided softly. "Am I?" he asked, staring across the restaurant, out the windows, looking everywhere else but not at her while he drummed his fingers on the table. "Yes. It's no big deal, really, I'll be home before you know it," she tried to soothe. "I don't think you understand," he said flatly as he turned to look at her. Oh, Lauren was pretty sure she did understand and told him so in no uncertain terms. "I

the Great Flu had come to America on ships along with spices and sugar, then spread from husband to wife and mother to child and trader to trader by kisses and handshakes, cups of beer shared among friends and strangers, and the coughs and sneezes of men and women who didn’t know how sick they were and went on serving food and selling cloth and trading beaver pelts one day too long.

The most useful definition we have is that an epidemic is a severe local outbreak, while a pandemic is a global outbreak that makes people very sick, and spreads rapidly from a point of origin.

I had diarrhea and abdominal pain. It started in January 2018 after a strange non-contagious flu-like sickness during the new year. I was not the only one to get this sickness, it was one of the worst flu seasons in modern history.

After a nasty flu-like sickness went through my family in 2015, I developed chronic daily headaches. I had them for years until my brain was scanned with a CT X-Ray scanner. A few weeks later they disappeared and I have never seen them since!

I learned early on in SEAL training the value of teamwork, the need to rely on someone else to help you through the difficult tasks. For those of us who were “tadpoles” hoping to become Navy frogmen, a ten-foot rubber raft was used to teach us this vital lesson. Everywhere we went during the first phase of SEAL training we were required to carry the raft. We placed it on our heads as we ran from the barracks, across the highway, to the chow hall. We carried it in a low-slung position as we ran up and down the Coronado sand dunes. We paddled the boat endlessly from north to south along the coastline and through the pounding surf, seven men, all working together to get the rubber boat to its final destination. But we learned something else on our journey with the raft. Occasionally, one of the boat crew members was sick or injured, unable to give it 100 percent. I often found myself exhausted from the training day, or down with a cold or the flu. On those days, the other members picked up the slack. They paddled harder. They dug deeper. They gave me their rations for extra strength. And when the time came, later in training, I returned the favor. The small rubber boat made us realize that no man could make it through training alone. No SEAL could make it through combat alone and by extension you needed people in your life to help you through the difficult times.

BE “FINE” How are you? Well, you’re fine, of course! You’ve never been better. I mean, sure, those medical bills are adding up to more than your house is worth, and yeah, you’re not on “speaking terms” with your siblings, and no, you don’t exactly have a job, but overall? When you think of it? Ya can’t complain. Turn the conversation back onto the asker as soon as humanly possible. You’ll immediately find out that they’re just as fine as you are. Wild, right? 3. DI(ALL)Y Help? Who needs help? Not you. You can handle it. Totally. Whatever it is. Three hours in line at the Social Security office, only to find out that your form wasn’t notarized on the third day of the month with Saturn in your fifth house? Not a problem. Two kids with the stomach flu and a job that doesn’t give you paid sick time? You got this. A burning pit of despair growing stronger every day like the Eye of Sauron? All over it. Those cracks you’re starting to feel in that Totally Fine Construct you worked so hard on? That’s the breakdown coming. The cortisol is pumping, your blood pressure is banging, and your body, which doesn’t know the difference between emotional stress and being chased by a sabre-toothed tiger, is freaking the fudge out. Delicious, isn’t it? Don’t worry, there’s more where that came from!

I was ahead of the game with Long COVID because a similar sickness hit me in 2015 after a flu-like infection I caught from an international professor. I had a four year head start with the biological research! By 2021 I was starting to recover and recovered in 2022. Unfortunately, I cannot be healthy without the supplements I take. The supplementation is life long and is detailed in my book Long COVID Supplements.

Hochschild is correct that the demographer Léon de St. Moulin assayed the 50 percent decline possibility (in 1987 and 1990 works). But Hochschild fails to mention that Moulin, like the later Vansina, believed that the EIC and rubber had nothing to do with it. The causes for Moulin were, in order, sleeping sickness, smallpox, Spanish flu, and venereal diseases. Moulin did not even mention the EIC or rubber in his 1990 chapter. Like the later Vansina, he recognized that these were footnotes in the demographic history of the Congo.

Once during a case of stomach flu, I needed to tell the 
doctor I’d been vomiting, but instead of shifting into the imperfect, I 
used the present je vomis (I’m vomiting), then stood up from his desk and mimicked a fake retch. The doctor in question pushed back from 
his seat thinking it was the real thing, only for me to fake retch again 
then say “dans le passé” (in the past), moving my arm as way to signal 
time past. He quickly wrote me a prescription and handed it to me at 
arm’s length. 


I developed the nutritional supplements in the book ‘COVID Supplements’ to enable me to have a milder COVID-19 infection. When I was eventually infected with COVID-19, it was the mildest flu-like sickness I ever had!

After a few years of fearing a COVID-19 infection, I was eventually infected and it was the mildest flu-like sickness I have experienced! I was taking the nutritional supplements in the book ‘COVID Supplements’ at the time.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them.

When Mom says “bong,” she means her nebulizer. It turns water into vapor, and she huffs it all day like a singer breathing hot mist before a performance. Except Mom’s machine is handheld. I’m surprised she doesn’t carry it in a gun sling. But my mom is not just inhaling water. “Let’s get some colloidal silver in those lungs,” she says. Second to prayer, colloidal silver is Mom’s insurance policy on life. She makes her own, soaking two silver rods in a glass vat of water that sits next to her kitchen sink. I’ll let her explain it. This is from one of her emails telling me how to live forever: “I use distilled water and 99% pure silver rods. The rods are connected to a positive and negative charge (think of a jumper cable for your car) and they are immersed in the distilled water. Some people leave the rods in the water 2–4 hours. I leave mine in for 8–12 hours so my silver water is extra strength and powerful…I drink ¼ cup colloidal silver in a glass of water before bed, and have for years and years. RARELY am I ever sick. I take a bottle of colloidal silver on every trip (especially overseas) in case I pick up a stomach bug or am around anyone who is sick. I use it on wounds, use it for pink eye, ear infections, the flu, and more because it kills over 600 viruses and most bacteria, including MRSA. There are also studies that show the benefits of colloidal silver against cancer.” Every time I’m home, she gives me a bottle of the stuff to take back to Los Angeles. I, like a good millennial, googled its effectiveness. The scientific establishment seems to believe that colloidal silver does approximately nothing good, and in large quantities, some bad. Perhaps you’ve seen the viral meme of the old blue man? He consumed so much colloidal silver that his skin dyed blue from the inside. He looks like a Smurf with a white beard. Well, he looked like a Smurf. He’s dead. Maybe from something common like heart failure, but… When I told my mother this, she wouldn’t hear it. “I know it works. I’ve been using it for years. I don’t care what those articles say. I’ve read hundreds of articles about it.

meme: “I didn’t get my flu shot! Because I’m smart enough to realize that the medical industry prefers a chronically-ill population over a healthy one.” (There is some truth to the second claim, but it has nothing to do with whether or not to get a free flu shot.) These statements sum up a pervasive logic in the more entrepreneurial parts of the wellness sector: doctors and drug companies want you to be sick so they can sell you Band-Aids, while fitness and wellness professionals want you to be well—but first you have to buy whatever they are selling instead. The larger and more profitable the wellness industry grows, the fiercer this competitive perspective becomes, to the point where even going to the doctor or getting a prescription filled can seem like a failure of wellness—clear evidence that you did not juice or train hard enough. Lining up with all of those regular (i.e., toxic, unfit) people to get injected with something that requires no special knowledge or virtue to access and, most suspicious of all in a market system, doesn’t cost any money, can be enough to cause a full-blown identity crisis.

COVID-19 was the mildest flu-like sickness I have ever had. I was taking the supplements in the book ‘COVID Supplements’ during it.

Coughlin stomped back to bed. He’d told his division he had the flu, but he was really just sick of the bullshit.

The graph illustrated the effects on a disease of various crude strategies: isolating the ill; quarantining entire households when they had a sick person in them; socially distancing adults; giving people antiviral drugs; and so on. Each of the crude strategies had some slight effect, but none by itself made much of a dent, and certainly none had the ability to halt the pandemic by driving the disease’s reproductive rate below 1. One intervention was not like the others, however: when you closed schools and put social distance between kids, the flu-like disease fell off a cliff.

But maybe his father was right. Maybe what had happened in 1918 could never happen again. "U.S. Reveals Detailed Flu Disaster Plans." Cole decided to make this the topic for his research report. Plans for manufacturing and distributing vaccines and other medications. Plans to quarantine the sick and to call up extra doctors and nurses and to replace absent workers with retired workers so that businesses wouldn't have to shut down. Plans to keep public transportation and electricity and telecommunications and other vital services operating and food and water and other necessities from running out. Plans to mobilize troops (for Cole this was the only exciting part) in the event of mass panic or violence. One day he would ask Pastor Wyatt why, despite all these plans, everything had gone so wrong. "Son, that is just the thing. That is what people did not--and still do not--get. There is no way you can count on the government, even if it's a very good government. The government isn't going to save you, it isn't going to save anyone. There's no way you can count on other people in a situation like we had. People afraid of losing their lives--or, Lord knows, even just their toys--they'll panic. Even fine, decent Christian folk--you can never know for sure what they'll do next. So I say, love your neighbor, help your fellow man all you can, but don't ever count on any other human being. Count on God." What Cole didn't know was that most of the plans he read about that night would have been sufficient only for an emergency lasting a few weeks.

First they warn everyone to wear a mask. Then we find out unless it's a special kind of mask it's not going to protect you at all." "It's not just a question of beds. There's not enough linen, not enough gloves, gowns, hypodermic needles, disinfectant, meds, you name it. Not enough ambulances, not enough ventilators or other equipment. Hospitals are even running out of food." "It's not like every other bad thing stopped happening to make room for the flu. People are still getting cancer and having heart attacks and strokes and road accidents. The idea that we could handle any kind of surge on top of that--whoever's fantasy that was, it was never going to happen." "The retired workers they were depending on to take over for the workers out sick? Very few of those people ever showed. The volunteer doctors and nurses and the other helping hands--they aren't showing up, either. It's not like 9/11. There aren't any heroes rushing toward the danger. The danger is everywhere, and everyone's running scared." "Let's face it, this is America. Anything that's bad for business, people don't want to hear. When it comes to money or doing the right thing, most people are going to choose money. Close up shop for months till they can make a new vaccine? How many businesses would still be alive after that?" "This disaster proves what some of us have been saying about America all along: everything is broken.

The school stank of Lysol, and several times a day they all had to line up and wash their hands. Clean hands save lives was the message being hammered into them. When it came to spreading infection, they were informed, they themselves--school kids--were the biggest culprits. Even if you weren't sick yourself, you could shed germs and make other people sick. Cole was struck by the word shed. The idea that he could shed invisible germs the way Sadie shed dog hairs was awesome to him. He pictured the germs as strands of hair with legs like centipedes, invisible but crawling everywhere. Minibottles of sanitizer were distributed for use when soap and water weren't available. Everyone was supposed to receive a new bottle each day, but the supply ran out quickly--not just at school but all over. Among teachers this actually brought relief, because the white, slightly sticky lotion was so like something else that some kids couldn't resist. Gobs started appearing on chairs, on the backs of girls' jeans, or even in their hair, and one boy caused an uproar by squirting it all over his face. Never Sneeze into Your Hand, read signs posted everywhere. And: Keep Your Hands to Yourself (these signs had actually been there before but now had a double meaning). If you had to sneeze, you should do it into a tissue. If you didn't have a tissue, you should use the crook of your arm. "But that's vomitous," squealed Norris (one of the two whispering blondes). These rules were like a lot of other school rules: nobody paid much attention to them. Some school employees started wearing rubber gloves. Cafeteria servers, who already wore gloves, started wearing surgical masks as well. Cole lost his appetite. He couldn't stop thinking about hospitals. Flesh being cut open, flesh being sewn up. How could you tell if you had the flu? The symptoms were listed on the board in every room: Fever. Aches. Chills. Dry cough. What must you do if you had these symptoms? YOU MUST STAY HOME.

What's this?" yells the captain to his sickly crew. "Oh, blimey! Could this be the Dread Pirate Flu?

Medical historians believe the sickness began in China in 1331. Along with a civil war, it halved the Chinese population. From there, the plague moved along trade routes of Asia and arrived in the Crimea fifteen years later, in 1346. Then it entered Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East. It disrupted society in ways eerily reminiscent of the Athens plague so long before. It emptied streets and public places like the flu epidemic that followed it. And its very name became emblematic of the horrors of epidemics. It was known as the Black Death. At the time the illness was as mysterious as the plague of Athens but now it is known that the Black Death bacteria, Yersinia pestis, were spread by fleas that lived on black rats. The rats, in turn, moved from port to port on ships, taking the illness with them. The fleas would bite people, infecting them with the bacteria. The plague would not have been so overwhelming if it could only spread through flea bites. It turned out that once the bacteria began infecting people, they found another way of spreading. They would infect the lungs and cause a pneumonia, whereupon sick people could infect the healthy simply by coughing or sneezing.

The victory over cholera was only a beginning. With the growing and profound knowledge that many diseases are caused by microscopic organisms and that the spread of disease can be prevented, the Western world was transformed. It took years for the change to be complete, but the result was a vigorous public health movement that emphasized simple but powerful measures like cleaning up water supplies and teaching people what now seem to be basic lessons of health and hygiene—keep flies away from food, wash your hands before handling food, give your babies milk, not beer, quarantine the sick. The results were dramatic. In large areas of the world, many of the killer diseases seemed tamed, or even vanquished, and deadly epidemics seemed to be relics of the past.

Zoonotics seem to be in the news for one reason or another of late. From coronavirus (covid-19), bird flu (H5N1) and now monkeypox. So called scientists say there is no connection. Yet, the bird flu followed covid 19 hotspots. Monkpox shows snd attacks some of the same human areas as covid-19 does. Coincidence? I don't think so. It's time that we looked more closely at how these zoonotics may interact and why yet share a passion for the same areas of human sickness. Sure. there may be no connection, but what if there is? Yesterday and tomorrow have a connection to today. It's the same thing. We need to look at the areas that these zoonotics attack. What they protein source (food) is. Where they have been predominately found and how would the map overlay plot their outbreaks. The connection is there. We just need to look.

People who haven’t been depressed assume it’s sadness, but that’s not it at all. It’s not a feeling; it’s the emotional flu, and it debilitates you. Things are going on around you, but you’re too sick to care.

I didn’t realize morticians had busy seasons.” “Oh, yeah. I swear, they practically pray for a flu epidemic. It’s kinda sick when you think about it.” “Now there’s an understatement.” “Anyway, he says he’ll get them all in the end. Everybody dies.” “And on that happy note, where are Mama and Papa?

When people are deeply “in” a film, you’ll notice that nobody coughs at certain moments, even though they may have a cold. If the coughing were purely autonomic response to smoke or congestion, it would be randomly constant, no matter what was happening on screen. But the audience holds back at certain moments, and I’m suggesting blinking is something like coughing in this sense. There is a famous live recording of pianist Sviatoslav Richter playing Musorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition during a flu epidemic in Bulgaria many years ago. It is just as plain as day what’s going on: While he was playing certain passages, no one coughed. At those moments, he was able to suppress, with his artistry, the coughing impulse of 1,500 sick people.