Post-Modern Drunk: Purell

Post-Modern Drunk: Purell

As a consequence of the swine flu, the miracle disinfectant Purell has been getting a lot of press. Masks aren't going to do you much good, if articles such as this one from the New York Times are to be trusted, taking Tamiflu before you get theflu isn't to be recommended, unless you like multi-drug resistant superbugs¹, but washing your hands (not just running them under the water, but giving them a good rub with soap) is still the easiest way to combat disease.

¹And as a recent infectee with a drug resistant superbug, I can assure you that you don't.

Purell is one step beyond washing your hands. It's a disinfectant made up of about two-thirds isopropyl alcohol, which kills 99.9% of common germs--unlike anti viral medications or antibiotics, it is not possible for germs to develop an immunity to alcohol. You're just bathing them in poison. Sweet cloying poison.

At the entrance to every room in the hospital, there was a Purell dispenser. Doctors, nurses, guests, they were all ordered to use the dispenser every time they entered or left a room. It eventually became second nature to anyone who'd spent a modicum of time at the hospital; you'd take a squirt of the stuff, rub it into your hands until it disappeared, and then go see the patient.

So literally everyone who has wronged me or hurt me in the last year smelled of Purell. It is the smell of daily blood draws, spinal taps, abscess drainings, of tubes being thrust down my throat, of tubes being taken out of my throat, surgeries, wheelchairs, and catheters. It's the smell of lupus, of mixed connective tissue disorder, of infective endocarditis, of klebsiella.

it brings up bad memories.

My girlfriend has told me of a woman she knew who worked for an organization dealing with Holocaust survivors, answering phones. This woman is German, with a German accent, and my girlfriend says that she occasionally gets people who take it very badly when they call the organization and get someone on the phone with the same voice as their former captors. I've mentioned I have a similar reaction still to listening to Bob Marley.

It's always a good idea to Godwinize your own stories.

But I think I'm done with stories about being in the hospital. It'll probably take awhile to completely recover from the trauma, and there are still anecdotes out there, crazy roommates, uncomfortable operations, the one time I hallucinated that the walls were covered in my thoughts and I needed to write them down before I lost them all irretrievably, but it's time to move on. If you've been avoiding Post-Modern Drunkard because you're sick of hearing, "When I was in the hospital..." well, now you can return to the fold. We'll lighten up a little more, from here on out. There are dick jokes on the way, so to speak.

comments[3] | 5/4/2009 | perma-link

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