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http://blogs.seattletimes.com/seahawks/2014/01/27/super-bowl-ticket-prices-continue-to-drop/
****
a little blurb about a small village in India where some villagers have died
suddenly from a flu-like virus that has never been encountered before.
It's not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead, and you find the
story kind of interesting. They're sending a few doctors over to the Indian
village to investigate it.
You don't think much about the story, but on Sunday, coming home from
church, you hear another radio spot. Only, now they say it's not three
villagers; it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular
area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb;
people are heading to the region from the Center for Disease Control in
Atlanta because this particular viral-strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story. It's not just
India anymore; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran. Before you know it, you're
hearing this story everywhere, and they have coined it now as "the mystery
flu".
The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying for
the suffering families and that he has every confidence that a remedy will be
discovered soon. Still, everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain
it?" That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks
Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or
any of the countries where this thing has been reported.
That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. You
are stunned as a CNN journalist translates a frantic French woman's words:
"There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu! The
plague has come to France!" Panic begins to strike not only
Europe, but world-wide.
The news reports are constant now. As best they can tell, an infected
person is contagious for about a week before symptoms of the disease begin to
manifest themselves. Once symptoms begin, the infected person endures
extreme suffering and pain for about four days and then they die. Mortality
is 100% so far.
Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool,
North Hampton. Tuesday morning the President of the United States makes the
following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to
and from Europe and Asia have been canceled." Anyone with friends or family
overseas are not allowed to return until a cure is discovered.
Suddenly, the nation is plunged into a uncontrollable panic. People
everywhere sell masks for protection against the disease. Everyone wonders
what will happen if the virus makes it to America. Already, some preachers
are saying,"It's the scourge of God."
It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody
runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!"
While the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone
stuck up to it, the announcement is made: Two women are lying in a Long
Island hospital dying from the mystery flu.
Within hours it seems, the deadly plague sweeps across the country. Medical
professionals and pharmaceutical companies are working around the clock
trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona,
Florida, Massachusetts. It's seems as though it's just sweeping in from the
borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure
is possible; a vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of
somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all throughout the
country, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is
asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your
blood drawn.
"That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your
neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the
hospitals."
When you and your family arrive at the nearby hospital late on Friday
night, there is a long line. Nurses, doctors, and other hospital employees
come down the lines pricking fingers, taking blood and labeling the
containers.
Your spouse and your kids are in line with you. Someone takes a little of
each person's blood and says, "Wait here. If we call your name, you can be
dismissed and go home."
You stand around anxiously with your neighbors, wondering what in the world
is going on, and whether or not it's the end of the world. Suddenly a young
man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and
waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again!
Suddenly, your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me."
Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute! Hold it!"
But they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to
make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type
of blood."
Five tense minutes later, several doctors and nurses emerge, crying and
hugging one another - some are even laughing. It's the first time you
have seen anyone laugh in a week. Finally, a stately, but weary older woman
in a white coat walks toward you. She's obviously a physician. She shakes
your hand, introduces herself and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood
Is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine."
As the word begins to spread all across that parking, people are screaming
and praying and laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired doctor pulls
you and your spouse aside and says,"May I see you for a moment? We didn't
realize that the donor would be a small child, and we need . . .well, we
need you to sign a consent form." You begin to sign and then you see
that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty." H-h-h-how many
pints?"
And that is when the doctor's smile fades and she says,"We had no idea it
would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!" "But...
but..."
"You don't understand. We are talking about the world here! Please sign.
We - we need it all - we need it all!" "But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?" In numb
silence you do. The doctor then says, "Would you like to have a moment with
your little boy before we begin?"
Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where your precious
little boy sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Can you
take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would never
ever
let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand
that?"
And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've - we've
got to get started. People all over the world are dying."
Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why -
why have you forsaken me?"
And then, next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some
folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they've
decided to go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile only
pretending to care, would you want to jump up and say,"MY SON DIED TO SAVE
YOU! DON'T YOU CARE?"
Willie on pot
(humor/pic)
http://i.imgur.com/bRv8HXH.jpg
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