Dr. Abdu Sharkawy is a Canadian Infectious Disease Specialist

I understand panic. When I first took swimming lessons at the age of 5, it was near impossible to resist the urge to clasp my hands into any part of my instructor, telling myself I would sink and drown otherwise. No matter how many times I survived this harrowing trial of nerves, my reaction was the same. I needed that anchor, that safety post to stave off certain terror. I’m a grown adult now and still not the best swimmer. Every now and then the water gets a little high, my breaths more shallow, my chest and throat tighten. But I don’t give in.

I understand fear. When I climbed Kilimanjaro at the age of 32, I found sepsis, delirium and a dislocated knee to contend with on my descent. And as I pleaded my case in broken Swahili to a group of older men playing cards outside a dusty motel, the response was something between indifference and jest. After all, death is everywhere in the world’s poorest continent. What was so special about me? A privileged tourist, someone sure to have enjoyed more and sacrificed less than most anyone else there. And as I came to the realization I was likely to die of septic shock, I was terrified as much by not being prepared for the moment…as not being cared for while it was happening. But I persevered. A clumsy concoction of bottled water, salt and every conceivable antibiotic I could rustle up from my backpack saved me. Barely.

I am still here. I am thankful and more aware of the privilege of life and health than ever before. I see it each day with every friend taken ill and every patient who dies.

In the coming days and weeks, more public events and organized gatherings will be canceled, or at least postponed indefinitely. The wave of new cases has evoked a sure sense of terror in many. And I understand. I also understand the fear and panic that has only heightened as news outlets everywhere declare new pockets of trauma and death in areas near and far.

This is a rare moment in history. We have a choice to make. We can determine to find helplessness, failure and futility by trying to save ourselves no matter how we see fit. Or we can determine to find survival, resilience and endurance by saving each other. Thoughtfully. Responsibly.

Non-essential travel and crowds of anything much bigger than a walk in closet can fit can no longer be condoned. The risk to the many now outweighs the benefit to you. Until testing can be rolled out more fully and index cases are prevented from spawning clusters and outbreaks, we will have to do without all inclusive resorts, Le Bron James up close and Coachella. We will have to be more creative and resourceful to work, learn and manage other tasks from home.

I don’t know how long this will last. Nobody does. This may dissipate in the summer heat and become an unpleasant memory or slowly percolate into a call for Martial Law.

But we must not fall to fear or succumb to panic. We CAN wash our hands and avoid others when we feel sick. We CAN call a trusted doctor or public health unit to ask for advice before flocking to the ER. And we can help each other with patience, servitude, kindness and compassion.

I’m still surviving swimming pools and plan on climbing Kilimanjaro again one day. I’m not afraid. I’ve already survived.

#patiencenotpanic #altruismnotnihilism
#cleanhands #openhearts #openminds

You don’t have to be afraid but you have to stay at home – From the front line in Italy