From my earliest memories, I can vividly recall the look of horror on my mother’s face at the sound of a nearby cough. Whether it was a thunderous bark or a soft “Ahem,” she would exclaim, “Ugh, that’s revolting! They’re going to make everyone sick!” If it was one of her own children, her response would shift to, “Uh oh, are you feeling unwell? Keep your distance.”
When riding the Long Island Railroad into the city, my mother would spend the first few minutes searching for an empty row. Once she settled in but spotted someone eyeing her seat, she would take a deep breath, clear her throat, and unleash a cough so dramatic it could win an Oscar. After securing her spot, she would remain tense, worried about bed bugs or the potential for a sneeze from the other end of the train, prompting her to stand in the doorway for the rest of the journey. In the city, if someone exhaled cigarette smoke even 50 feet away, she would hold her breath until it felt safe to breathe again.
Little did she know that decades later, her anxieties would resonate with billions around the globe.
Every winter, I noticed my mother’s hands would crack from her obsessive hand-washing ritual. Her intense fear of germs seemed to follow her everywhere. Dining out was a meticulous process; she would inspect silverware, plates, and glasses before scrutinizing the waitstaff for any signs of illness—like a runny nose or bloodshot eyes—warranting a demand for replacements. At the gym, she wiped down every machine with disinfectant before using it, and during tennis matches, she would cringe as her opponent handled the ball with their potentially germ-laden hands.
At the bagel shop, if she saw the cashier touching the bagels after handling money, she would abandon her purchase and request a refund. Even during her favorite Broadway show, Cats, her excitement turned to dread when the person behind her sneezed, prompting her to check over her shoulder repeatedly for the remainder of the performance.
The introduction of self-checkout kiosks at grocery stores was a dream come true for her, eliminating the germs she associated with cashiers. At the pharmacy, she adamantly refused to touch the community pen for signing prescriptions, insisting on having the pharmacist do it for her. If that wasn’t an option, she would wrap the pen in several tissues before even considering using it.
Fast forward to mid-March, and my mother, once considered overly cautious, became an emblem of responsible health practices in line with CDC guidelines. The notion of checking everyone’s temperature before entering public spaces was one she would have gladly endorsed decades ago, along with maintaining a six-foot distance and eliminating handshakes.
As a true germaphobe, she has managed to pass down her anxieties to her three children. We even have video evidence of my younger sister, at just two years old, pointing at a coughing child at a birthday party, shouting, “Sick! Sick!”
I cherish my 71-year-old mother, whose once neurotic tendencies now feel like common sense. I’m grateful she’s been quarantined with my younger sister—now all grown up—to help maintain a sterile environment. If you want to explore more about this topic, check out a related post on home insemination kit.
In summary, my mother’s lifelong battle with germs has evolved into a shared societal concern, bringing a sense of validation to her past behaviors. Her cautious nature has shaped our family, and in today’s world, her habits are more relevant than ever.