Fear of Coughing
What is our society’s new social contract?
I live in Indiana, a state recently featured in a New York Times Op-Ed piece written by Aaron E. Carroll.
Here in Indiana, we’ve started the gradual process for opening stores, sporting events, and summer — well, not summer; it’s COLD. My point is that I’ve begun to venture out just a bit. As I’ve tentatively stepped through doors I’ve not opened in months, I have discovered a new world, one I don’t recognize, and one I that I haven’t learned its social etiquette.
Today, as I peered into my favorite restaurant, I saw each table appropriately distanced from the others. I saw work-staff with face masks and plastic gloves. All menus were paper takeaway menus. Plates of food were covered when carried to their hungry patrons. All seemed well aligned with our state’s guidelines. That is until I entered.
It must be psychological. Why do I get a tickle in my throat when I walk into a doctor’s office, a pharmacy, a grocery store, or my favorite restaurant? What do others expect? What is the correct social response? Should I fling myself headlong through the nearest exit? Should I carry a sign that reads, “It’s The Same Tickle I’ve Had In My Throat For Fifty Years!?” I just don’t know what to do.
Should I be eradicated due to the seriousness of the symptoms? Should I be sent to a penal colony for incessant coughers? Should I go into perpetual quarantine? What is the right balance between the social good and a life-long, benign condition? And what about other biological conditions that previously were socially accepted?
What about that belch we all do after a swig of cola from a can? If I go for a run, hypothetically 🏃, will my sweat be considered a biohazard? And what should I do if I suddenly, without premeditation, sneeze? Is that a mulligan?
My heart is in the right place. My intentions are good. But what are the new rules that govern our little-explored world?
