Can coronavirus drive you mad?

This coronavirus thing is making me crazy.

In the 24/7 news cycle in which we now live, the coverage is abundant, but not always accurate. On one hand you’ve got fringe news outlets screaming about the end of the world; on the other end of the spectrum are politicians assuring us the whole thing might “miraculously go away” on its own just as soon as the tulips begin to bloom in April.

And of course, the first coronavirus victim hadn’t so much as sneezed before the conspiracy theorists trotted out their fractured fairy tales. Everything from secret government laboratories manufacturing germ warfare to politicians (again) using the crises for political gain, nothing is too crazy to believe, particularly for those willing – and in many cases anxious – to ignore anything remotely resembling a fact.

We have sooooo much information and so little truth.

I’ve been trying to get my news directly from the W.H.O. (World Health Organization) and the C.D.C. (Centers for Disease Control) whenever possible. My thinking is that neither of these organizations has a political ax to grind, at least not when it comes to something like the coronavirus. All they want to do is get the information out there and convince people to start washing their hands, already.

That’s the part that’s making me crazy. Not the terrible cable news coverage or the political twit-storm; the hand washing. That’s what’s bugging me most. The damn hand washing.

Look, I’m not a complete slob. I wash my hands a dozen times each day anyway. I’ve always been a bit germ-o-phobic. It’s one of the reasons I’m always nervous prior to a visit from my younger grandchildren, whom I think of as Pool of Contagion #1 and Pool of Contagion #2. Most kids that age are.

One of them always seems to have a cold, the sniffles, a mild fever, leprosy, or some other easily-transmitted disease. As soon as they arrive, they immediately begin doing things like licking the TV remote or sneezing into the potato salad when nobody’s looking.

They are cootie central.

But I digress. My point is, I wash my hands a lot already. Since the coronavirus hit the news, I’ve become borderline obsessive about it. I’ve even begun using those germ-killing wipes the grocery stores provide to disinfect your shopping cart. In the past, I always considered these silly and paranoid. Lately, not so much.

But I digress again. Hand washing; that’s what this column is about. Not politics, fringe media screamers or cootie-infested grandchildren. Hand washing.

Why should hand washing make me crazy? Because of a song written prior to the Revolutionary War. “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” You’ve probably heard of it.

It was originally sung by British military officers (thank you Wikipedia) who sang it to make fun of the rustic colonial “Yankees” who fought by their side in the French and Indian War. It wasn’t until five years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence that the song became one of natural pride.

Hang with me here; this will all come together soon. I promise.

The reason my hand washing habit is tied inexorably to a song older than our country may be traced to an article I read over 30 years ago, one probably published by the C.D.C. or W.H.O. That article suggested washing your hands for at least 20 seconds, the amount of time, as it turns out, required to sing the first verse of “Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

For reasons I will never understand, that tidbit of random information stuck with me.

So for the past 30 years, whenever I wash my hands I find myself humming that stupid song. Every. Single. Time. I’ve tried to stop, but can’t.

In the pre-coronavirus days, I only had to hear that tune rattling around my head a dozen or so times a day. Now? Forty, maybe 50 times. Every. Single. Day. So, yes, it’s slowly driving me nuts.

And now that that tidbit of random information is also in your head? What can I say; sorry, and welcome to the party.