RC Flying in the Time of Covid

Geoff Norman

The death of one Russian soldier is a tragedy; a million is a statistic.
J. Stalin

Stalin had remarkable insight into how people think. He recognized what is now a well known fact in psychology; people’s opinions are far more influenced by vivid individual stories than by pallid statistics. Journalists know this well. Front page stories about accidents or wars are typically cast around individual eyewitnesses, not evidence.

What has all this to do with Covid and RC flying? Perhaps quite a lot. Just this week, we have finally opened Bayfield to a collective sigh of relief from all club members. However, regrettably, but not surprisingly, access to the field comes with a number of preconditions – social distancing, masks, gloves, sanitizers, rosters.

It is easy to pass all this off as some kind of ritual. We’re all sick of Covid, not sick from Covid. Every newscast is devoted to statistical updates; every newspaper carries front page articles on Covid. We are overwhelmed with statistics. But not only is the virus invisible; its effects are practically invisible. Do you know anyone who has contracted Covid? Neither do I. To see why, let me give you just one statistic.. There have been 660 cases in Hamilton; that’s about 1 person in 500. So it’s unlikely that any of us know anyone who has contracted Covid. The consequence is that we go through all these rituals in order to prevent an invisible and abstract disease. It often seems pointless. It’s not surprising that when Bayfield opened, there was no indication that any of the fliers on the first day adhered to any of the Covid procedures.

Well, you actually do know someone who has had something pretty close to Covid – ME. Many of you know that I was hospitalized in February. It wasn’t Covid, but the actual disease and management was almost identical. If anything, mine was more severe. One doc who was attending me estimated my chance of survival at about 30% (Covid is about 95%). In the next few paragraphs I intend to describe in detail what I went through, to make the situation real.

It began in mid-February with a nagging cough that did not go away. In the third week , I developed fever and chills unlike anything I had ever experienced. My teeth were literally clattering. And I was coughing so often I could not sleep – every 5-10 seconds. On Saturday night, I became delirious, and my wife called an ambulance in the middle of the night, and I went off to Juravinski.

I was in the ED for 3 days. I was delirious, and kept squirming around, pulling the IV out, muttering. The third day I lapsed into coma , where I remained for 9 days. I, of course, remember none of this.

I was in the ICU for about 2 weeks., then transferred to the ward. By this time I was conscious, but had severe cognitive difficulties. I could not sequence things in time. I could not do even simple arithmetic. My fingers were too clumsy to use a smart phone.

After 4 weeks I was discharged. I had lost 25 lb., and my muscles were seriously wasted. I could only walk, with assistance, maybe 5-10 feet. When I got home I could not climb stairs, so slept on the living room couch for 2 weeks.

By about 2 weeks I could climb the stairs with difficulty. I pushed a walker and could not walk unassisted. I needed help to go to the bathroom. I could not dress myself. I was a useless wreck.

I have gradually improved, so that I am now pretty well back to normal, 8 weeks post-discharge, although I still am not capable of much in the way of yard work or lifting. It seems like it’s taken forever, and there have been many depression days. Needless to say, the strain on my wife and kids (in their 40’s ) has been formidable., particularly during the hospitalization.

But I am a lucky one. Doctor friends, (I have many) have uniformly commented that my recovery was a miracle. Each diagnosis has a significant mortality. Having survived the infections, I was fortunate to be left with no cognitive problems. The 8 weeks of rehab is also extremely quick. So I can count my blessings – I guess.

And when I go out to the field in the next few weeks, you can bet I’ll be suited up. I don’t want to go through this again. Indeed, if I did get Covid, I expect my chance of survival would be minuscule. And I hope you will take the situation seriously and follow the rules – for your sake and mine.