I was like you once. Last April, Boris Johnson, the leader of my country, was hospitalized with the Kovid-19, a few miles from my home. My heart rate increased. It was a Sunday night, which is a sick time of the week in the best of circumstances. Johnson was first detected at home on March 26; And then before his admission on Friday, April 3, he released a short video announcing that he still had fever and would extend self-isolation. She had a new casual, work-at-home open shirt. But did she look ugly? Was she breathing a little bit? Is there a blueness around the lips? Here is another common symptom of your secondary, civilian infection: You turn into a medico-detective. I can listen to CNN from the next room as I write (I’m currently in Canada). One commenter is calling for objective data, not assurances from a White House official. “I would really like to know about his oxygen saturation,” she is saying.
Another sign is a feeling of unrealism. Be strict with yourself and limit imaginary thinking. Like the plague, all the giant nouns included in the suicides of a prime minister or president have a fictitious quality. This imaginary feeling, too, stems from the fact that our leader is the lead author in the national story of the epidemic. When they fall ill, it turns out to be an ironic device, a meta-narrative rather than a quiet, rational life. Johnson’s disease seemed like an increase in the severity of the epidemic, even though it was not. You can start thinking that the logical consequences of behavior are ‘plot twists’. Despite knowing about the dangers, Johnson claimed to have joined hands with “Har” in a hospital with Kovid patients. Cause and effect is not the same as irony. I had to remind myself that I was living in an epidemiological reality, not a disaster story of an epidemic that was building to some sensational climax.
Two days after the sick Sunday, Johnson was transferred to intensive care. At this point, one’s own traits, too, confirm their intensity. I fear for both Johnson and my own complacency. I started asking myself feverish, dead-end questions about the nature of empathy. What does ‘Well wishes people’ mean? My post-recovery advice is to try to ignore such pointless ends. When the whole country is demolished in the waiting room, you are going to get a shadow epidemic of bad faith. This predicate, the feeling that you should have pity on someone whose power you can relinquish well, is not your fault. To think of the ailing body of the head of state, this is a badly flawed political system. If only they could have only one major, then continuous by an Outlandish machine, such as Krung in Ninja Turtles. You may hate the voice of a leader; You can hate his signature. But what has a leader’s pulmonary alveoli done to you?
On that note, prepare yourself for the leader’s stomach to be on everyone’s mind. I remember when Nancy Pelosi voiced her concern for Trump’s health during May’s hydroxychloroquine scandal, questioning whether her age and weight (“morbid obese, they say”) were associated with irregular substances. Self-treatment should be done along with it. When Johnson was in intensive care, he was tempted to teleport himself to the foot of his hospital bed to flip through his charts. Weight, we were told, was a risk factor. Was Johnson fat, in the pathological sense? His former communications director Will Walden assured the British public that Johnson “is far more fitter than he looks.” Try not to become a BMI know-it-all.
Those who lay the leader’s body on the table under public scrutiny are inevitably exhausted. Arguing speculation over pregnancy soon distracts from the question of whether there will be a transfer of power. The important issue of who is in charge is a respectable, clean pragmatism. When Johnson was taken to intensive care, NewsnightThe BBC’s Current Current Affairs program devoted its analysis to chains of command. Here, Americans are on slightly stable ground. British succession is less cut and dried than the default established for the Vice President. After being tested positive by Johnson for the first time, UK Foreign Secretary Dominic Rabb was chosen as his ‘designated survivor’ and Rab was being called ‘deputation’ to the Prime Minister when Johnson visited the hospital. But there were lines about this decision. It should have been Michael Gove, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster! I maintain that Tulsi has comparable legal questions as number three, constitutionally capable of becoming president. People would take the constitution to light, like an X-ray, if only to distract themselves from the thoughts of a wheezing, struggling body.