Spooky Ideas and the Flu Vaccine

I was trying to figure out what Dr. Pangloss, the optimistic philosopher of Voltaire’s famous satire Candide, would say about the shortage of flu shots when suddenly he appeared before me, a ghost. He repeated his famous advice: “It is clear that things cannot be otherwise than they are, for since everything is made to serve an end, everything necessarily serves the best end.” I recognized that peppy sentiment from a literature class. I remembered that he had applied it to every circumstance, no matter how horrific or pleasant, when he was still alive in the pages of the novel.

I can’t take the flu shot, so I tried to let Dr. Pangloss assure me that a shortage won’t affect me. But it will! It will! Since I can’t get immunized, I depend on others to stay healthy and not sneeze all over me. When he heard my flimsy whining, Dr. Pangloss told me to calm down. He asked me to remember the last time I had the flu and how it gave me an opportunity to lie prostrate for days, occasionally rising to drink hot tea and eat cinnamon toast. I got to feel like a child again, didn’t I? Didn’t I get all the sleep I needed to catch up on, and then some? Didn’t I get a vacation from work?

“But what about my elderly mother, Dr. Pangloss?” I asked. “She wasn’t up to going to Kroger at one in the morning to wait in line for eight hours the way old Homer Fink did in West Virginia.” “Old Homer Fink wasn’t either,” Dr. Pangloss replied. “But he did it! Think about all the new friends he made while sitting next to that colorful Halloween display at the grocery store. He should get out more often. Your mama too!”

It was hard to convince Dr. Pangloss that a woman about to turn 83 deserves better than that. All of those elderly people who have collapsed, or worse, while waiting for shots deserve better than that. Ever cheerful, he reminded me of the beautiful woman who had been his lively companion through many pages of the novel, even infecting him with a disease. He described the disease in more detail than I cared to remember, as it had been bad enough to read about it in graphic detail the first time, and then reminded me that such adversity never harms a flea.

As Dr. Pangloss continued to provide a descriptive discourse on “The Chain of Events Within this Universe,” I grew bored. “You’re a fictional character,” I finally exclaimed. “And a ghost to boot!” Elated to be reminded his demise, which led him to reflect on the possibility of new companions, given the shortage of flu vaccines, Dr. Pangloss began to wax eloquent about Paradise when I interrupted him to ask him exactly why he’d bothered to appear to me. “What’s the point?” I asked. “I wish a more practical ghost had shown up.”

This ghost shook his bony finger at me and reminded me that nothing, not even death or a shortage of flu shots, could change his opinion. “It would not be right for me to recant,” he said, “since Leibniz could not possibly be wrong.” “Leibniz, schleibniz,” I jeered. What was it about Dr. Pangloss, always deferring to the wisdom of a philosopher sorely satirized by the great writer Voltaire? I began to wonder if I should have conjured up the ghost of Dr. Jonas Salk instead. I know if I could, I’d put him to work in this best of all possible worlds.

Felicia Mitchell. First published in Washington County News (Abingdon, VA), 27 October 2004, p. A6. WCN is a publication of Media General Operations. Copyright 2004.