By Mary Schmich
The Chicago Tribune
CHICAGO — Chicago is on the verge of an epidemic — of flu-mask fever.
I haven’t yet seen anyone walking around town in one of those face masks that’re all over the news, but I made a few phone calls Tuesday, hoping to check one out. Too late.
“You know what?” said a pharmacist at the Osco on North Southport Avenue. “We sold the last one yesterday.”
“I’m completely out,” said a pharmacist at the Target on Elston Avenue, adding that she’d sold “at least 20 today alone.”
“They sold out over the weekend,” said a pharmacist at the Walgreens on North Wells Street.
(A couple of pharmacists pointed out that they carried no official “flu mask” and were talking about face masks. We’ll get back to that.)
After half a dozen more calls that netted only one pharmacy with masks in stock, I checked Google. Some sites were selling “bird flu masks,” but the savvy online entrepreneur knows that we’re more creeped out this week by pigs than by chickens.
One advertiser hawking “swine flu masks” urged: “Hurry — While Supplies Last!”
But before you pop for that $49 “swine flu protection kit” (mask, latex gloves and hand sanitizer), stop. Take a mask-free breath.
So far, fear is spreading faster than the swine flu. But for varied reasons, this flu seems spookier than the ordinary “seasonal” flu, whose related causes, federal officials say, kill 36,000 Americans a year.
Among the reasons: The current swine flu started in Mexico, which brands it as an invader. Its name is “swine,” a word that connotes dirt and evil. And then there are the masks.
You’ve seen the masks on the news, those papery, loose contraptions strapped around the noses and mouths of Mexicans, airplane travelers and reporters interviewing travelers. They’ve become so common in Mexico City that three thieves slipped them on as camouflage a couple of days ago to rob a department store.
In Japan, the masks are a common sight in any flu season. Wearing one is an act of courtesy and social responsibility, sometimes with a dash of fashion. Some masks come adorned with designs of Hello Kitty and Mickey Mouse.
But we’re not Japanese. Here, masks suggest something furtive, foreign. They come with a whiff of apocalypse.
And they’re not likely to save you from the swine flu.
The surgical masks typically seen on the news and sold in the drugstore are designed to keep you from spreading your germs, not to keep viruses from getting you.
A more serious mask, officially known as a respirator and available in some stores, may help. (In stock as of Tuesday at Carnegie-Sargent’s Pharmacy on North Michigan Avenue.)
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says that in communities where the swine flu has spread, a mask or respirator is a good idea if you’re in a crowd or in contact with an infected person. But experts differ over the utility of masks, and the CDC emphasizes the importance of other precautions.
The pharmacist at Northwestern Memorial Hospital’s Walgreens, which has sold out of respirators, repeated the mantra:
Wash your hands often. Avoid crowds. If you cough, do it into your bended arm. If you cough into your hands, wash them pronto. If you feel symptoms, contact your doctor.
If we’re lucky, the swine flu will pass soon. If we’re not, some entrepreneur is sure to invent a mask featuring Britney Spears or Barack Obama.
Copyright 2009 Chicago Tribune Company