Wednesday, October 10

Grant does not have Anthrax. Well, at least he's not sick from anything. As he wrote in an e-mail, "My nose was swabbed and I didn't even get a lollipop. Got a fistful of Cipro, though." Who knew that working at The Sun would be such a dangerous thing? But the disease has made him famous. He got a mention in an article in Salon. When I first heard the news of the two cases, it made me think about those early "mystery" diseases--GRID, they were calling it at first, Gay Related Immune Deficiency. I can't help but wonder if this is the beginning of something much bigger that we just can't see right now. Is this as bad as in the early '80s when there were reports in magazines such as Time that AIDS could possibly be spread on toilet seats or through mosquitos (a scary thought when you live in South Florida)? Everyone was paranoid. Even after, there was always that fear--no matter how remote a possibility--and all of us were going in droves to get tested. That time between when you took a test and the time you got the results where your mind would just lead you to the most horrendous places was excruciating. There was such complete relief when you found out you were negative, and such overwhelming pity and horror for those who tested positive, even though you weren't supposed to feel pity for them, you were supposed to help them feel empowered. That must be what Grant's going through now, as he doesn't get his test results back till Friday.

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