Last spring seemed to have come early. As February entered its second week, I remember watching, fixated, impish butterflies and gnats dancing in the mid-day sun above the leaves of my grapefruit tree. Their social dance appeared so chaotic, yet so rhythmic. The sun warmed my cheeks as I drank from my Starbuck’s iced coffee. The sweet nectar eased down to my growling belly. As I started to read the BBC news, I heard the distinct screech of an osprey and looked up to the sunny sky in time to spy a white streak circling, her mate in the distance. Down by the water’s edge the fish skipped as if in response to her cry, or had the shadow of menace startled them. The ripples spread across the calm waters as an echo of that clarion call.
The cold waters were shrouded in a mist that wafted gently heaven ward. The waters seemed to melt into the mist leaving an uncertain horizon, only defined by a kayaker whose orange parka contrasted with the baby blue vessel slicing the bayou below. 2020 had started as such a beautiful year.
I returned to the cold screen of my IPad to review the daily news. An article caught my attention: a Chinese ophthalmologist had died of a little known virus. He had brought the virus to the attention of the world and yet his passing seemed so little pronounced, but like that leaping fish, the ripples of his presence would continue to spread.
This doctor had noticed that several of his elderly patients had missed their appointments because of the flu. He elected to visit them in the hospital, whereupon he noticed similarities among the many varied cases. These patients all appeared to suffer a severe respiratory disease know as ARDS or acute respiratory distress syndrome marked by multilobar pneumonia. He questioned his colleagues and then the alumni of his medical school class. Had they seen any similar cases?
Most Chinese remember the SARS outbreak of 2003, so this doctor and others considered a similar virus as the possible source of this outbreak. He had been censured by the Communist authorities for his breach of restricted information. Regardless, his concerns had caught the attention of the World Health Organization at a time when the Chinese authorities shutdown and blockaded Wuhan, a city of 11 million souls (by comparison New York City is a population of 8 million).
And now, this stalwart too had succumbed to the talons of this little known virus. I looked up from the screen in time to watch the osprey dive piercing the Gulf mists into the placid water and resurface with a panicked fish. She flew a short distance to a giant live oak limb and dispatched its prey with a flash of its beak.
Suddenly, the threat of this viral disease seemed much, much more real.
Seems so long ago, doesn't it? Excellent post, looking forward to the next one!