Metro Pulse/Gamut/Diary of an Ill Man

Our intrepid intern Fuzzles gazes into the void and finds it is packed full of bacteria, viruses, diseases and other icky things.

by Fuzzles

Editor's Note: It started out as a simple assignment for our hardworking (if somewhat gullible) intern Fuzzles—find out which diseases currently threaten humans the most. Nothing is ever simple for Fuzzles. Eager-to-please, he has a tendency to throw himself too much into the task at hand. The assignment apparently brought about another one of Fuzzles' intense breakdowns, and at the moment we're not quite sure what's become of the big lug. We did find his diary sitting in the cubicle next to a box of surgical gloves. It reeked of Lysol or some other putrid disinfectant. What was written in it we cannot verify. Certain facts and characters sound a bit too outlandish to be true.

Jan. 15 Dear Diary: Oh my gosh, this is going to be my big break! I just know it! The editors at Metro Pulse want me to write a story! I can't believe they trust me this much. Oh, man, they're not going to be sorry. And it's a cool topic too! I'm supposed to find out what diseases pose the greatest health problems to people today. I can't wait to get started.

Jan. 16 I found some great info today on the World Health Organization's website. There was stuff on the major infectious diseases. I never knew that the plague was still around. But there are cases of it every year in the United States, and all over the world. You get it through flea and insect bites, which causes a swelling on the lymph nodes. Which kind of scares me, because I could swear I felt a lump on my neck last week, behind my ear. But that's not as frightening as meningitis. Even when it's detected early, 5 to 10 percent of its victims die! The scariest thing about meningitis is that the symptoms are pretty common—headache, fever, nausea, vomiting. I mean, that sounds like the flu. How are you supposed to know if it's serious? Makes you wonder. Especially since I think I might be coming down with something. My throat is kind of sore, and I feel a little run down—that feeling you get right before a cold hits you full force. I'm going to start taking more zinc and echinacea.

Jan. 17 I can remember the first time I ever thought seriously about something invading and attacking my body. I was in second or third grade, and I went with mom to pick up my brother from high school. He had just come from biology class that day, and was giddy as he told us what he'd learned about: worms and parasites. He told us how this one guy kept feeling an itch in the back of his throat. It was a worm wriggling up from his intestines. The man would cough and swallow, and the worm would plunge back into his stomach. But eventually, at night, the worm and others would make their way up past the guy's mouth. He died shortly after that, and they cut his head open to find a bunch of worms tunneling around in his brain. I was horrified for months, as I kept feeling a scratch in my throat. I swallowed and coughed constantly to make sure any worms were kept out of my head. But what if they got through while I slept? Pinworms, roundworms and flukes—they could all be living inside me. Maybe that's what the scratch in my throat is?

Jan. 18 There's a killer lurking in my kitchen. Actually, 700 million of them. All in my kitchen sponge. You think you're cleaning your dishes, but you're really just spreading death and disease over every fork, plate and glass. Every year, there are some 30 million cases of food-borne illness in the U.S., and about 9,000 people die from it! E. coli, salmonella. I went out this afternoon and bought several bottles of anti-bacterial soaps and bleach. I'm going to scrub down my whole apartment, to make sure I kill every damn bacteria that's in it. Where do they come from?

I also found this great alcohol lotion that you spread on your hands after you touch things. It kills all the bacteria and keeps you safe. Humans are amazing.

Even so, my throat still feels raw. I don't know what it is. It's not painful enough to go to a doctor, but I just know something is wrong. Maybe I should take more zinc and echinacea?

Jan. 19 Oh, great. I heard a report on the radio this morning that all those anti-bacterial soaps and detergents are actually bad. We're creating all these super-bacteria strains that won't be killed by antibiotics. And there are also some scientists who wonder whether Americans' hyper-cleanliness might be bad for our immune systems, because the bacteria keeps our defenses high. Some scientists theorize our scrubbing and washing has increased the rate of allergies and asthma—children in Third World countries don't have anywhere near the incidence that we do. And my precious alcohol rub? One report found that it actually encourages bacteria growth, by drying out the skin. And it doesn't do a damn thing against viruses. But what am I supposed to do?

Jan. 22 Humans think we've conquered disease. We're so arrogant. We haven't seen the worst it. Hantavirus. You think you've just got the flu or a bad sinus infection, but then suddenly you can't breathe, and WHAM!—you're dead. It kills you within days. It seems every time you turn around there's a new disease out there waiting to get inside you. There's a virus called machupo that causes all the capillaries to leak blood into your body. The pain is excruciating, and the slightest touch crushes you. Hell, even the flu can kill millions. In fact, we're due for another pandemic. And what weapons we have are quickly becoming useless. Antibiotics are overused, and soon none of them will be worth a damn. If that wasn't bad enough, all the diseases we'd thought we'd finally beaten are rearing their ugly little heads again. Many biologists worry that smallpox might come back. The Soviets apparently produced it for biological warfare, and they can't account for all of it.

Jan. 24 There's a little tiny lump on my neck, I'm sure of it. It can only be cancer. I asked everyone at work to feel it, but they all said I was imagining things. I think they just don't want to scare me. Everyone started looking at me funny, and I'm sure they were thinking the same thing: "Fuzzles is as good as dead." What can they do about it? Still, I wish they wouldn't patronize me. I think I'm going to stop going to work, anyways. Too many sick people. One guy's got mono. I don't need to be laid out for months with that. The whole sales staff had the flu virus. I'm not sure how I managed to miss that one, knock on wood. How long is the incubation period for the flu, I wonder?

Jan. 26 I'm almost positive that I have Ehrlichiosis. It matches my symptoms almost completely: fever, chills, headache, muscle pain, nausea and a rash. It's a new disease, transferred by ticks. Wouldn't you know it, my cat has ticks! I went to the doctor, but he told me it was just stress. What the hell does he know? Any fool can see I'm dying. Or course, there is the possibility I have some undiscovered virus. Maybe when this epidemic has run its course, thousands of Knoxvillians will have died. And then they'll write it up in the medical books and journals. The least they could do is name the disease after me, since I was the first to die from it. Fuzzlitis.

Jan. 30 Oh my God. All this time, I never knew. Alzheimer patients have unusually high levels of zinc in their brains. And I've been taking 100 mg a day! I noticed that I've been really forgetful of late. I'm certain the zinc has kept me from getting that nasty flu bug that's been going around, but at what cost?

Feb. 3 I've started to notice something weird about all pop music. Even the songs that are supposedly happy and bouncy have this melancholy, this nihilistic aspect to them. Take the Ronettes' "Be My Baby," or Johnny Nash's "I Can See Clearly Now"—you can hear in these songs a kind of death wish, if you listen closely. Driving down the highway, hearing Nash sing, "I can see clearly now the rain is gone," the only thing that is really clear is that the sky isn't clear and that things aren't going to be all right. The joy I hear in these chirpy tunes comes from an acceptance of death, of nothingness. And there's also a silent message to everyone who listens: the song is real because it exists in the realm of pop culture, but you are nothing, no one.

Or is it me? Perhaps the problem is lurking inside my brain. Could I simply be depressed? Mentally ill? Maybe I'm going nuts. Could it be a tumor? I've heard that lead poisoning can make you really depressed and my apartment is really old. Maybe I'm getting lead from the water pipes.

Feb. 5 I'm afraid to go out. All I do is lie in bed, listening to my heart beat. I wonder how I'm going to die. I figure cancer. It's strong in my family. But which kind? Maybe I should have an MRI.

Feb. 7 It is with a very heavy heart that I write these words. Mankind is doomed. I'm certain of it now. I don't know how much time we have left. But all is lost. Oh, if only I didn't know the truth. If only I'd never met Prof. Microbe. I had been looking for someone who could put all of this into perspective for me. How could a society that flew men to the moon, built the interstate system, invented laser surgery and fake fat be waylaid by itsy-bitsy germs?

Prof. Microbe told me that the biota have decided mankind must be eradicated—it's consuming too many resources, destroying too many things. It's waging an environmental war against humans, mutating with great speed and one simple goal—kill people. I can still hear his voice, the words he said to me before I fled. "The biota are at war with us, Fuzzles," he said, then broke into this demonic laugh. "The biota will win."