Saying What Needs To Be Said

Among the requirements I had to fulfill to earn a bachelor's degree in Russian at Brigham Young University was to live in the Russian House for at least a semester.  There were five girls living in a 1000 square foot house with no air conditioning.  At least we had a huge tree to shade us from the blazing afternoon sun.

One of the girls, we'll call her Rhonda, was a little socially awkward and a bit overweight.  She didn't quite fit in.  None of that really mattered, however.  What did matter was that Rhonda had a serious hygiene problem.  The body odor was about enough to kill a horse.  And remember, we had no air conditioning.

As bad as the body odor was, the stress of listening to the other three girls complain when Rhonda wasn't around was even worse.  And after a few weeks of this, I had to acknowledge that Rhonda's habits weren't going to miraculously improve, nor would everyone else's noses be magically stopped.  There was no getting used to this.

I'd had enough, and I informed the other roomies that I was going to have a chat with Rhonda about her hygiene.  They were beyond shocked.  Somehow they, and indeed many in our society, had been conditioned to believe that they were being charitable and kind, in essence doing the right thing, by allowing Rhonda's poor habits to continue unchecked and afflict everyone in the house.

So I found a moment when just the two of us were home and asked Rhonda if we could talk.  I got straight to the point.  (It's been my observation that when people are oblivious to a problem, pussyfooting around and trying to sugarcoat the facts do not work at all.)  I informed Rhonda that her body odor was a tremendous problem.  It needed to be corrected.  It was affecting the roommates for sure, and probably other potential relationships as well because her odor was difficult to be around.  I didn't suggest--I told her that she needed to take a shower each morning.  Use soap.  Scrub.  Change her clothes, including her undergarments, each day.  Wear her clothes only once before washing.  Do her laundry every week.  I had to be explicit.

Rhonda really didn't believe me at first.  She didn't believe there was a problem because no one had ever said anything to her.  She thought perhaps I was making a mountain out of a molehill.  I explained that it was a sensitive topic and no one wanted to get into it.  For many, especially kind, sweet women like my roommates, it was more comfortable to live with it and be miserable.

No one could believe that I would undertake such an uncomfortable task.  I am not one who likes to talk at all.  I find that to be very uncomfortable, and bringing up a delicate topic only makes matters worse.  I would far prefer to stay in a corner or at home.  I was raised to believe and have always felt that for me personally, it is better to remain quiet and be thought a fool than to open my mouth and remove all doubt.  And that's partly because when I do speak, I do not mince words.  I don't soften the blow.  I just say what needs to be said.

What needs to be said most is what our family, friends, and neighbors don't want to hear.

So what needs saying? 

You have to store your own food.  No, you can't have mine.  No, I am not sharing the good stuff with you.  If you want the good stuff, you need to store it yourself.  I've got to plan our food around my diabetic husband whose post-collapse diet will consist of meat, fat, and salads, and a son with gastrointestinal problems who needs a low-fiber diet.  I'm one who has a hard time dealing with the nonsense that passes for everyday life in this country.  I need my chocolate to keep from smacking people silly.

You have to store your own medications, including your personal maintenance medications of anti-depressants, insulin, whatever.  Cold meds, pain relievers, asthma inhalers, epinephrine.  Did you want antibiotics to treat that case of strep throat in your little girl?  She'll probably recover without them.  What about antibiotics for treating diverticulitis in your 65-year-old father?  Are you pushing 60 and on proton pump inhibitors?   You're probably going to be needing vitamin B12.  Do you have it?  Because it's an essential vitamin, and you surely are going to need it.  And for what it's worth, once you get older and if you are on PPIs, it is very unlikely you will be able to get enough B12 from your food.  You have to have a supplement. 

Hard choices are going to have to be made.  You have got to mentally prepare for this.  Do you use all your supplies saving someone who is going to die anyway, or do you save those supplies to treat ten people down the road who will be able to make it?  It's easy to make the right choice now when you're thinking rationally.  It's different when the person who is going to die anyway is your spouse or child. 

No matter what you do or how you prepare, some people are going to die.  That's reality.  Some just cannot live without their medications or machines.  Some will die of trivial infections that got out of hand.  Some will die of infectious disease. Others will die of malnutrition.  Many will take their own lives because they can't adjust to the new reality. 

The reality is, there is no easy way to say any of this.  There is never a perfect time.  It is something that will be addressed.  Your only choice is whether you do it now, so that your loved ones can prepare, or later, when it's too late.