Thirty-three years later Becoming a quarantine historian first, and after a pandemic that many of us thought quarantines, social distancing, and vaccines could help end two years ago ended, I found myself stuck in the past week. I was asked to spend two days in voluntary isolation, a new protocol amid a surge in Omicron variants, before the long-delayed one-year study in Clare Hall at Cambridge University began. When two days turned into six—between mailing in my PCR test and waiting for delayed results—I kept asking myself an endless (and exhausting) question: When will this all end? I’m getting tired of my answer: I really do not knowNot only are historians generally bad at predicting the future, the history of pandemics can only tell us a lot about when pandemics in our modern, hyper-connected world might become history.
Even though I’ve been vaccinated for three times and taken every precaution to travel as safely as possible, every airport between Detroit and Heathrow is filled with extreme chaos and potential contagion. People have undoubtedly lost their patience, and in the midst of another unending wave of the pandemic, with (mostly cloth) masks on, noses exposed, and others bumping into each other with no scruples, there is no personal space at all, let alone three to one. Six feet away. As I sat in the car on the way to my new apartment, sweating and anxious, the concept of isolation quickly shifted from an academic topic to a disturbing reality.
While I’m still locked in my room, I don’t take comfort in knowing that 700 years of quarantine was far worse than the one I found myself in. Over the centuries, starting with the quarantine of ships in Venetian harbour against the Black Death in 1348, the whole thrust of public health intervention against smallpox, diphtheria, cholera, influenza and many other epidemics boiled down to nothing more than capturing the infected and putting them away. It is placed far away. Entering the 20th century, quarantine islands in the United States and abroad were like prisons, lacking nurses and doctors, let alone kindness, warmth, or food. Patients there either use their immune systems to conquer the microbes or die from the infection.
At the same time, I have all the conveniences of a luxury modern quarantine: lovely apartment, PC, internet, food delivery, central heating, smartphone, and access every season. Crown (I was taken aback), and pretty much every other show and movie. Nonetheless, being formally isolated, especially long after it is deemed necessary, is very isolating. Just 12 hours after moving into my new home, when dusk turned dark, I had an incredibly strong desire to go a long way.
Who will know? I think. It’s too dark outside, I’m wearing a mask, who can recognize me?
The desire to break the rules and go outdoors is an aspect of almost every quarantine I’ve researched. In 1892, for example, the New York health commissioner complained to the media how Russian Jewish immigrant children who had been quarantined for typhus climbed out of windows and escape routes to play with friends, potentially spreading the deadly disease and prolonging the outbreak. Twenty-two months after I shut myself out from the rest of the world for the first time in March 2020, I have some sympathy for these kids, just as I have some sympathy for the millions of tired people who are basically By ignoring the rules designed to stop the spread of Omicron. Still, that empathy has become very weak in the Omicron variants that have circulated widely over the past few weeks, which will continue to prolong the end of the pandemic.
Public health experts insist that after the epidemiological curve falls from hundreds (or more) of cases and deaths per 100,000 people per day to fewer than five cases and deaths per day for many consecutive days, officials will Big chance to declare COVID-19 no longer a pandemic. But as Omicron continues to expand, we’re not even close to that. As long as the virus spreads widely and so many people around the world remain unvaccinated, many more people will get sick and die. Wanting to contribute to the end, I finally listened to my conscience, gave up walking, locked the door, and went to bed.