Holy God, someone just had the Bubonic Plague. Someone in AMERICA.
I thought modern science whipped that guy’s ass, am I right?
WTFH, you guys???
Sorry, I’m just FREAKING OUT a little bit. I remember studying the Bubonic Plague in middle school, and from what I remember, EVERYBODY DIES.
Okay, so it’s no secret that I have an overactive imagination, and I truly don’t believe I will die from this disease (I envision going out in a blaze of glory, like rescuing a baby from a runaway tractor) –
But knowing it’s out there scares the ever-loving heehaw out of me.
See, I have this problem. An embarrassing problem.
I mentioned two weeks ago that I get sick more frequently than most folks. What I didn’t mention was the extent of my very welcoming immune system. An immune system prone to inviting in the strangest and most random illnesses known to mankind. It especially favors arcane diseases that are expensive and won’t go away, the kind of visitors that park their pick-ups on your lawn, takes off their pants, and proceeds to eat the entire content of your fridge while watching Swamp People re-runs on continual loops. Then you get a citation for their truck parked on your lawn and they set your house on fire.
Do you remember the swine flu pandemic two years ago, which they renamed H1N1 because scientists have no imaginations?
So do I. Because I was hospitalized for it, parked in a sealed ICU chamber where only doctors and nurses in space suits could visit, and then stuck with a bill totaling more than double the down payment on your house, probably. God bless the USA and its healthcare system.
I had pneumonia at the same time. Then I got a really freaky rash from the antibiotics, so you know, GO ME!
That’s just a recent sampling of my luck with infectious breeds of death, and I won’t go into an accounting of my medical history right now. Just know that there’s more. Oh boy, is there ever more. One day, Internets, I will share with you the aberration that is my medical history, but today is not that day. You’ve been reprieved.
Naturally after reading the Yahoo! article about the little girl recovering from the Plague, I did a Google image search. All I can say about this is BIG MISTAKE, DO NOT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GOOGLE “BUBONIC PLAGUE.” For that matter, do not Google “Black Death,” either, or any other such alternate terms. I care about you and don’t want to expose you to the gruesome horror I witnessed there.
You’re Googling it right now, aren’t you? That’s what I love about you. Your fearless, independent nature. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
In addition to the fright-fest on my Google spelunking tour, I discovered that 10-11 incidences of Plague in the U.S. are reported to the CDC per year. PER YEAR, you guys. Worldwide? 1,000-3,000 per year. Holy mother of guacamole. And here I’ve been living in this bubble where the Plague is no longer a “real” threat, along with the music of Wham! and velociraptors.
Another fun fact: a man got it in Oregon earlier this year and lost his fingers and toes. How did he get it? From pulling a dead mouse from his cat’s mouth.
I HAVE DONE THAT at least TWICE this year, PEOPLE.
So in case I inadvertently contract the Plague via my well-meaning kitten and her penchant for mousing, please send Mike cash in lieu of flowers. Or you can send cash now. Just in case.
We all know I’m probably going to catch it eventually, so I’m just saving us all an extra step.