Our upstairs neighbours are a man in his mid seventies and his wife, about ten years his junior. They are comfortable off, with a generous pension that affords them an affluent lifestyle. Until a year ago, I assumed them to be of the type that live healthy lives well into their nineties. However, when the plague struck things changed.
The first thing I noticed was the old man's early adoption of a face shield, and a somewhat hunched posture whenever out in the street. Then came the face mask a few weeks later, and I wondered whether he would eventually adopt full protective outfit, but that never happened. However, he grew noticeably shorter in stature as the year progressed, so much so that my wife and I hardly recognized him when we met him in the street a few months back.
My wife asked him about his health, and he told us that the plague had him so worried that he's been unable to sleep properly. What followed was a surreal conversation. On the one hand he was fully aware of the psychological aspect to his deteriorating health. On the other hand, he was lamenting the physical danger of the plague. He was both fully aware of his irrational fear and in complete denial of the propaganda aspect.
Nothing has improved as far as propaganda on TV since that conversation, and I've seen him gradually get worse. Every time I see him out in the street, I see him hunched and huddled, but I was nevertheless shocked to see him out today. He needed crutches to support his legs, and his wife at his side to support him. In a little over twelve months, our upstairs neighbour went from being a healthy seventy year old man to a cripple, all thanks to non-stop news coverage and infomercials.
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| Face shield, mask and protective wear |
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