In a move that has sent shivers down the spines of epidemiologists and hypochondriacs alike, Brazil has placed two patients under observation for potential Ebola. The global health community, already twitching with anticipatory anxiety, has tightened its collective belt another notch. The patients, whose identities have been shrouded in the kind of secrecy usually reserved for nuclear launch codes, are being monitored in São Paulo. But let’s be honest, if you’re going to catch a deadly hemorrhagic fever, doing it in a city famous for its traffic jams and aggressive pigeons is possibly the least glamorous option.
The World Health Organisation, that august body of clipboard-wielding doom-mongers, has been alerted. The Brazilian health ministry, in a statement that was as reassuring as a life raft made of lead, confirmed that the patients are being kept in isolation. Because nothing says ‘I’m fine’ like a hermetically sealed room and a thermometer up your fundament.
Meanwhile, the rest of us are left to ponder the existential horror of a virus that turns your insides to soup. But fear not, dear reader, for I have it on good authority that the Ebola panic is simply a distraction. They want us to worry about blood and vomit while they steal our holidays. That’s right, the real epidemic is the theft of summer breaks by shadowy cabals of travel agents.
But back to the feverish reality. The two patients have recently returned from West Africa, the heartland of Ebola. They presented with symptoms that could be anything from the common cold to the apocalypse. The health officials, ever the masters of understatement, have described the risk as ‘low.’ Low? Sir, the risk of me getting a decent gin and tonic at an airport lounge is low, but it still happens with alarming infrequency.
Let’s not forget the historical precedent. Ebola is the kind of disease that makes the Black Death look like a minor sniffle. It’s the Liam Neeson of viruses: it has a very particular set of skills, skills it has acquired over a very long career. Skills that make it a nightmare for people like you.
In related news, I’ve decided to self-isolate for the foreseeable future. Not because of Ebola, but because I can’t stand the sight of another human being using a selfie stick. The risk of infection is low, but my tolerance for idiocy has reached critical mass.
So as Brazil watches and waits, we are left with the eternal question: is this the beginning of a pandemic that will wipe out civilisation, or just another Tuesday in the world of global health? My money’s on the latter. After all, we have Brexit. Ebola can’t compete with that level of self-inflicted chaos.
