We’re not all ill. There is no epidemic.
Yet every one of our hospitals is jammed packed with people anxiously seeking attention.
Anyone would think we’re a bunch of fraidy-cat hypochondriacs.
Maybe we are.
But the people crowded into waiting rooms up and down the country are mostly there because there’s no place else to go.
- Their GP won’t see them, he’s closed after-hours and they can’t get an appointment.
- The 111 service can’t sort out the problem, so it’s referred them to A&E.
- Their pharmacy is concerned about symptoms and has done the same thing.
Which puts a whole bunch of people in a queue, all waiting for one thing.
Well actually, for somebody to tell them what’s wrong, with a suggestion of how to fix it.
“Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.”
And because they’re ordinary non-medical folk, half of them are convinced their condition is more serious than it is. There’s no family Doc with “There, there, it’s all right. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning”.
All they know is, they don’t feel well.
Which of course, can be caused by a whole slew of things.
But unless it’s an accident or an underlying condition, it’s probably germs.
Somehow, they’ve come down with a bug.
Which nine times out of ten, should never have happened in the first place.
Sloppy hygiene. Hands not washed. Gunge from the underside of the sink.
Or just plain unlucky – a nasty stomach-heaving bug floating around at head height in the living room – which wafted in on the coat of the vicar who dropped in for tea , two days ago.
But bugs can be stopped.
DEAD. IN. THEIR. TRACKS.
Because it’s possible to sterilise every room in the country to hospital operating-room levels – no germs at all, anywhere. (Tweet this) Finished. Gone. A total germ desert.
And that’s germs in the air, germs on your clothes, germs on furniture, drapes, carpets, walls, ceilings, light fittings, everywhere – you name it. Total room sterility.
The only place germs can’t get clobbered is outside in the big outdoors. Or inside somebody who’s already got them. So if Hooray Harriet sneezes all over you, chances are you’re going to come down with it.
But not if you walk into a room where the germ threshold is zero.
And that can be any room in the house, your office, the restaurant in the High Street, and the council offices round the corner.
Safe as houses
How’s it done?
Good old Nineteenth Century hydrogen peroxide. The same stuff you can buy in the chemist for less than a quid a bottle. Grandma used it for disinfecting stuff and sterilising her teeth.
Maybe even put some of it on you when you grazed your knee – fizzing round the edges while it KILLED THE GERMS.
Yes, but this is hydrogen peroxide with a difference. Souped up with Twenty-First Century technology.
A nifty electronic machine about the size of a small wheelie-bin sprays an ultra-fine IONISED mist of it up into the air so it spreads everywhere throughout the room.
All the air space – under, over, behind and round the back of stuff – all surfaces, everywhere.
Good ol’ aitch-two-oh-two
Ionised means it’s active. It reaches out and grabs things – drawn to them by static charge. But harmless once it’s done its work.
Twenty minutes later, all germs are destroyed. Because hydrogen peroxide works by ripping them to pieces with oxygen atoms. Blown apart in millions of microscopic explosions.
All viruses, all bacteria. Even the dreaded Ebola, in the unlikely event that you’ve got it lurking.
And they can’t come back if they’re busted to bits.
Which is how we take the heat off hospitals.
We just don’t go there, because there’s no need.
We’re too busy being healthy.
As long as everywhere is treated with this stuff, we’re all OK.
Because it takes a long time for us to learn.
Look how long it took before double glazing and central heating took centre-stage in our homes.
Ah well. But we do know some folks who are working on it.