![]() ![]() That initial belief was well-intentioned, but mistaken.Ī pile of research has shown that surface transmission is somewhere between unlikely to near impossible. ![]() We were told that the main risks came from catching those droplets in our mouth or nose, or by fomite transmission: Touching the same surface as a sick person and transferring the droplets to our respiratory system. We, of course, initially believed that the virus was transmitted mostly, if not exclusively, via droplets. It took some time, but we now know - and have known for a while, with a really high degree of certainty - that COVID-19 is predominantly transmitted through aerosolized particles. It’s well past time that our governments and public health officers start navigating a way out of this pandemic with policies and advice to the public that actually follow the science, instead of relying on superstition. Daily life in the late pandemic is made up of a series of rituals that once felt comforting, but which now feel rote - maybe even downright absurd. Some, or all of it, probably sounds exhaustingly familiar. Your hands have been dry and cracking for a year-and-a-half. Leaving the country can mean no fewer than three nasal swabs: Tests that make you $200 poorer. Every time you touch a pen at the bank, the cashier throws it in the nearest garbage. You need to make a reservation to renew your passport. Your doctor still isn’t seeing patients in-person. The story of a family stolen by COVID-19. A kindly manager beelines to your seat, putting a firm hand on your shoulder and forcing you back into your seat. The beat moves you and you stand up to start moving your hips. Your favourite song comes on: It’s your song. Off in the corner, a karaoke machine looks covered in cobwebs, memory of a bygone era. You settle at a table, peering through the plexiglass barriers which surround you, waiting for your friend to walk through the doors. You take the bus to meet some friends for lunch: You pick the rare seat that isn’t taped off TO ENABLE SOCIAL DISTANCING. The hairdryers are gone, ostensibly for the same reason. A similar sign hangs on the water fountain, same for half the lockers in the locker room. Later, you head to the gym: Half the machines are still out of commission, covered in signs that say: CLOSED, TO ENABLE SOCIAL DISTANCING. You grip onto the shopping cart, still slimy from the disinfectant, and follow the peeling arrows taped to the floor. You go to the grocery store: One employee in a face shield gestures towards a jug of hand sanitizer, while another at the cash register furiously wipes down the conveyor belt. You open the door and prepare to step outside when a pang of guilt hits, as though leaving the house is an act of transgression in and of itself. ![]()
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