It was billed as ‘“Solid practical advice from Stanford’ for handling the coronavirus” when it showed up in my inbox last week:
Take a deep breath every morning and hold it for 10 seconds. If you don’t cough or feel discomfort that “proves there is no Fibrosis in the lungs,” which means you’re “basically” infection-free.
That was followed by, “Serious excellent advice by Japanese doctors treating COVID-19”:
Take a few sips of water every 15 minutes. Because even if the virus gets into your mouth, drinking water will wash it down through your throat and into the stomach, where your stomach acid will kill all the virus.
For days I did the morning deep-breath test and set my phone for water-sipping alerts. Convinced that I was armed against contagion, I finally joined the masses scouring stores for toilet paper.
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The City of Santa Monica closed the Santa Monica Pier in an attempt to prevent the further spread of the Coronavirus. Very few people were on the beach in Santa Monica as the epidemic continues. (Carolyn Cole/Los Angeles Times)
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Volunteer Nagma Shakur, 16, left, hugs her “Grannie” as she helps senior shoppers with their carts at the Grocery Outlet Bargain Market in Altadena. (Al Seib/Los Angeles Times)
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People walk up the ramp, exiting the secure area at the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX. (Kent Nishimura/Los Angeles Times)
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David Barker, 56, is visiting with his friend living in a tent on skidrow in Los Angeles. Barker, who is not homeless, works in the area. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)
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Dr. Dallas Weaver, 79, and his wife, Janet Weaver, 75, of Huntington Beach, walk on the Huntington pier. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
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Seniors, including Eileen Oda Leaf, 67, left, and her husband Dave Leaf, 67, right, both wearing protective masks, line up outside Gelson’s Market in Manhattan Beach early on Wednesday, March 18, 2020. (Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
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Roberta Tabor, 66, of Hermosa Beach, has her ID checked by store director Dennis Sullivan at Gelson’s Market in Manhattan Beach on Wednesday. The store is doing a “seniors shopping hour” where seniors 65+ can go grocery shopping before anybody else. (Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
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Seniors shop at Gelson’s Market in Manhattan Beach on Wednesday. The store is doing a “seniors shopping hour” where seniors can go grocery shopping before the store opens to the general public. (Christina House/Los Angeles Times)
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Dr. Mark V. Morocco oversees testing at UCLA Medical Center where people can drive up and get tested if they have the symptoms. Morocco listens to a female patient’s lungs through the car window. (Carolyn Cole/Los Angeles Times)
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HOPICS outreach worker Ralph Gomez tosses a clipboard for a signature to homeless client Davis Soto, right, taking care to stay at least six feet away during outreach in Los Angeles. (Brian van der Brug/Los Angeles Times)
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Medical personnel screen patients outside the emergency room at Loma Linda University Health during the coronavirus pandemic. (Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)
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A nurse takes the vital signs of a woman in a medical tent outside the hospital on Catalina. (Francine Orr/Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)
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An employee of the Trader Joe’s store in Monrovia tells customers waiting in line that it would open doors to everyone at 9 a.m., not just seniors, who arrived believing doors would open earlier to older residents, as some of the people were told by employees and it was reported. Some grocery outlets were offering special morning hours of shopping to accommodate older residents. (Al Seib/Los Angeles Times)
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Kevin Ezeh, protected with face mask and gloves, addresses the Los Angeles City Council meeting standing under a tent erected outside City Hall. A television livestreamed video of the meeting and the public offered comments remotely. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
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Orange County Undersheriff Bob Peterson listens during a board of supervisors discussion on combating the coronavirus in Santa Ana. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
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Dr. Mark V. Morocco oversees the testing at UCLA Medical Center. Testing for Covid-19 is going on at UCLA Medical Center, where people can drive up and get tested if they have the symptoms. (Carolyn Cole/Los Angeles Times)
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A large tent is installed for public attendance at Tuesday’s Los Angeles City Council meeting. The public was not allowed in the council chamber. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
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Shoppers queue up ahead of the Los Feliz Costco opening for business on Tuesday, March 17, 2020 in Los Angeles. (Kent Nishimura/Los Angeles Times)
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Muhammad Faruq, an Uber driver, picks his ride Sotero Reyes, left, and Cristian Eguia, visitors from Houston, all in protective masks, from downtown Los Angeles. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
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Volunteer Rachel Figueroa, serves a free lunch to go to Destiny Mendez, with her mother, Estefany, at the Dream Center in Los Angeles. LAUSD students can get free breakfast, lunch and dinner at the Dream Center, Monday through Friday. (Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)
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Emma Bradley, left, and her husband, Samuel Bradley, of Palmdale are walking up the ramp to catch the Metrolink in Union Sation in Los Angeles. (Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times)
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Medical personnel surround a car that is going through a coronavirus drive-thru test clinic at the San Mateo County Event Center. Drive-thru test clinics for COVID-19 are popping up across the country as more tests become available. (Justin Sullivan/Getty Images)
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From left, Josh Akamine, of Oahu, Hawaii; Madison Shine of Oahu; Matthew Valencia of Los Altos and Dani Ikeda visit L.A. Live in downtown Los Angeles. (Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)
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Normally bustling Grand Central Market in downtown L.A. is open only for take out. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
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L.A. has banned restaurants from offering seating at places such as Grand Central Market. (Irfan Khan/Los Angeles Times)
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Carlos Perez, a worker at Wolfgang Puck Bar & Grill at L.A. Live in downtown Los Angeles sits in the empty restaurant. (Mel Melcon/Los Angeles Times)
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A line at the Martin B. Retting gun store in Culver City on Sunday extends out the door and around the corner in 2020. (Francine Orr / The Times)
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A guest wears a mask in front of the Sleeping Beauty Castle at Disneyland on Thursday. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
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Students hug as they are let out of school at Hamilton High School in Los Angeles, Calif., on March 13, 2020. The school has 2,623 students who live in 94 different zip codes, some of whom travel upwards of 30 miles to school on 24 different school bus routes. 221 school staff live in 88 zip codes. Los Angeles Unified School District Superintendent Austin Beutner announced that schools will be closed due to the coronavirus. (Gary Coronado / Los Angeles Times) (Gary Coronado/Los Angeles Times)
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Blake Anderson, left, a freshman, walks with his father Oree Anderson, as school is let out at Hamilton High School in Los Angeles. LAUSD announced that schools will be closed due to the Coronavirus. (Gary Coronado/Los Angeles Times)
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Students leave John C. Fremont High School in Los Angeles at the end of the school day on Friday, Mar. 13, 2020. LAUSD announced it will shut down beginning Monday. (Luis Sinco/Los Angeles Times )
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Alexandria Casserly crosses the street while looking for toilet paper in downtown Los Angeles. (Gabriella Angotti-Jones / Los Angeles Times)
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A crew member stands on the stern of a cruise ship docked at the Port of Los Angeles. (Luis Sinco/Los Angeles Times)
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Two children look at movie posters in the lobby of the Arclight theater Thursday in Manhattan Beach. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
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Disneyland guests wearing ponchos pass the Marketplace inside Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge on Thursday. Disneyland and California Adventure will temporarily close in response to the coronavirus pandemic. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
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People shop at the Del Amo Fashion Center in Torrance. (Luis Sinco/Los Angeles Times)
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Disneyland guests take photos in front of the Millennium Falcon: Smugglers Run at Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
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Airline workers take precautions at Tom Bradley International Terminal in Los Angeles on Thursday. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
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An airport worker cleans a railing at Tom Bradley International Terminal. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
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Two people arrive at Knott’s Berry Farm on Thursday in Buena Park. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
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Cab drivers wait for riders at the Long Beach Airport. (Luis Sinco/Los Angeles Times)
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The Del Amo Fashion Center in Torrance. (Luis Sinco/Los Angeles Times)
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A woman claims her luggage at he Long Beach Airport. (Luis Sinco/Los Angeles Times)
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The Del Amo Fashion Center in Torrance. (Luis Sinco/Los Angeles Times)
Once experts began to debunk the advice, it dawned on me how foolish I’d been: Deep breathing wasn’t going to let me know if I have COVID-19, and stomach acid wouldn’t be able to kill it if I did.
I’ve always been a natural skeptic. So why was I so gullible about this?
Because like so many folks who passed that post around, I’m desperate for an explanation, a cure, a path away from panic and back toward normalcy.
Instead, the entire city is on lockdown; people my age have been advised not to leave their home for weeks. This is untrodden territory for us all; a journey that may push us to rethink our beliefs about ourselves, our country and our communities.
For some, the epiphany arrived on Sunday, when a citywide shutdown prompted bars, gyms, restaurants and movie theaters to close. For me the moment was one afternoon last week, when I sauntered into my neighborhood Ralphs and found aisle after aisle of near empty shelves.
It seems normal now, but it felt surreal and shocking then. I should have expected it, of course. I’d just written about binge-buying sprees at big box stores. So why would I expect my particular Ralphs to be exempt?
There’s a sense of entitlement embedded in that assumption, and that’s not something that’s easy for me to admit. But I’ve come to realize there’s a cosseting force to life in suburban communities like mine in the northwest San Fernando Valley, where I’ve lived for more than 30 years.
You learn to expect order, safety, convenience, routine; that’s your entitlement, your reward for choosing the un-hip life. You like to think that you’re in the city, but not of it — insulated from its problems but willing to latch onto its promise.
But that illusion has been flattening for years. Our suburban streets are now perpetually clogged with traffic, because of the pricey gated communities going up on hills once roamed by mountain lions and deer. On main streets and in parking lots, we can’t pretend that we don’t see the spreading tent encampments and clusters of dilapidated RVs, where our new homeless neighbors live.
This coronavirus crisis may be an especially meaningful reality check. In a matter of months the virus has traveled the world from person to person, killing more than 8,700 people, panicking millions, crashing economies and stigmatizing human interaction.
We don’t know how long it will go on. We do know that our fates are linked, like it or not, to the lives of millions of others across the planet.
The coronavirus has no regard for race, class, geography or ideological divisions. It doesn’t care if you live in the city or the suburbs. Every nation and every person has a responsibility — beyond hoarding, blaming and sharing weird conspiracy theories.
Last week wasn’t a good look for our democracy. The president fumbled so often he should have been benched. Confusion reigned around preparedness. Panic and greed sparked retail chaos.
But this first week of isolation seems to be gentling us, at least in my neighborhood. Our Nextdoor feed is still a cringe-worthy forum for arguments — about the difference between hoarding and stocking up, and whose fault all the coronavirus problems are (the media, of course).
But it’s also a place where neighbors are volunteering to help people they’ve argued with before. One neighbor offers to share surplus toilet paper rolls with anyone in need. Another is running errands for mothers whose kids are at home, so entire families don’t have to leave the house. And several have signed up to do grocery shopping for homebound senior citizens. No one is asking to be paid.
They’re helping strangers because, in my community and yours, that’s what neighbors are supposed to do.
