Monday, February 11, 2019
Life Lesson: For You Who Live Sheltered Lives
Riffing off Mosby's recent repost of his 2014 thoughts on field sanitation and hygiene, I offer the following experience, far too recent.
I have elsewhere documented a previous encounter with a member of the Street Diversity.
Suffice it so, I recently had occasion to deal with several more, including Mr. Brown. (Go read the linked story, above. Not right before nor after a meal.) Mr. Brown was worse than Mrs. Brown. Same basic premise (living in car for months to years). Twenty pounds of actual sh*t in his shorts. Except with septic shock, and a literal coral reef of fungus on both legs, inches thick, which didn't spontaneously generate over days nor even weeks. He was outted when the vehicle he was driving struck a parked car in a lot, and PD found him.
Another, probably a cousin of the Brown family tree, was living similarly, with holes in his skin such that I could do anatomy lessons from the exposed musculature visible through his windows, a pair of sodden feet (due to recent rains) inside boots that were a classroom lecture and lab on immersion foot, and a probable case of necrotizing fasciitis, i.e. flesh-eating bacteria.
Both of them with extra riders, i.e. parasitic infestations.
Those guys usually die within a day or two, BTW. We may save one or both, but only just barely.
Who cares, you're not doing my job, right?
Okay, well-played. Except not so much.
And suppose Mr. Brown had hit your car?
Or what if Cousin Brown washed up on your doorstep, or at the end of your lane, in anything from just bad luck to major disaster, let alone SHTF?
If these sorts of Zombie Hordes walk around every day in first-world conditions now (and I'm here to assure you that they do), what are the odds you run across them come a local disaster, let alone civil disruption, or full-on Sportiness when bad things happen to everyone?
My SWAG: about 100%.
What's your plan to deal with that?
(For the smart @$$/dumb @$$ who kneejerk replies "Rule 308", fair enough and all; so, waddarya gonna do with the leftovers afterwards?)
How prepared are you to deal with the unhygienic unwashed stinking pestilential shambling masses anywhere between city hall and the front porch, dead or alive?
Sanitary disposal and Level-A Hazmat decon better be on your radar, long before it's on your front porch.
And you'd better be pretty up-to-date on your vaccinations, as well as being able to deal with every one of 100 medieval pestilential plagues after anything as simple as bad weather.
And game it for when you cannot call 911, and have the county coroner's van show up to dispose of the detritus that was deposited nearby.
No one is coming to save you.
Now see if you can figure why I think being familiar with Ebola, and the field-expedient protection for it, might be a bit more germane than some of the witless wonders think it is.
There's a typhus outbreak, right effing now, in Los Angeles' City Hall. Today.
From sewer rats, who gain access to the buildings via thoughtfully constructed rain gutters that provide a highway from curb rain gutters all the way to the roof, and then into the building through ventilation ducting and such.
What's your contingency plan for typhoid, dysentery, plague, and dozens of other civilization-long killers of man, going back to the deep B.C. era.?
Vector control, pest eradication, and public health are suddenly on your plate too, as lord of your own domain, in any sort of disruption, large or small, short-term or generational.
Washing your hands is good, but there's more than that to sanitation.
Fail to plan: Plan to fail.
Fail = slow, lingering death for you and yours, shriveled, crapping your guts out, amidst an uncaring universe.
You will see this material again.
Next time, the pop quiz may be with your life and your tribes' as the ante.