Open Letter
An Open Letter to Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease
I still hate you but thank you for being so aptly named
Dear Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease,
On behalf of parents everywhere who struggle to keep our germ-ridden filth-mongering spawn (née children) clean and healthy for even two seconds, I want to thank you, Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease, for being so aptly named.
Though you’re painful, fever-inducing, and about as genuinely unpleasant as asking for a waiter’s recommendation at a restaurant and then feeling guilty about ordering something else, it is refreshing — a luxury, even — to encounter a malady that is so authentic, so in-touch with itself that I don’t have to be a doctor, a nurse practitioner, or even a lowly physician’s assistant to know exactly how to diagnose you. If my hands, feet, or mouth are fucked, I know it’s you, my old friend. Web MD be damned.
Now, sure, there are other diseases with sexier and catchier names, but who knows what those even are? Take Lou Gehrig's Disease for example — what, am I going to suddenly be good at baseball now? Or how about Alice in Wonderland syndrome — will I have a low-grade fever as I step through a mirror and enjoy tea with Tom Petty?
Such fanfare, such hubris in naming these mystery diseases. But not for you — not for Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. Your content is just what you are and just what you’ve always been: a disease that affects the hands, the feet, and the mouth.
Specifically, my mouth.
Specifically, right now.
Specifically, 11 hours before we take our first vacation as a couple since our honeymoon nine years ago.
In a perfect world, Handy, it would be nice if you weren’t so easily transmitted when my child sneezes on my face while eating Eggos, but us beggars (née parents) can’t be choosers. If I’m going to go down — and let’s be honest, this might be the one that finally does the trick — I’m glad I’m going down with you.
However, in the interest of full disclosure, I would also be open to going down with Maple Syrup Urine Syndrome. That sounds rad.
Your friend,
Gabe
