Upon returning to work after the Workers Day public holiday, I noticed that the university had installed new access control software at the various campus entrance points. Scores of students milled around, uncertain of how to use the new system, while security guards did their best to patiently assist each student to enter campus.
Of course, I waited my turn and eventually got into campus, but I couldn't exactly figure out why I felt so uneasy. I felt anxious- I was cold, clammy and my heart rate had accelerated. I realised that I was subconsciously digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. So, what exactly was it that had got me so tense? Then-after a while- I realised what was the trigger for my short-lived wave of anxiety, i.e., the fingerprint scanner-something hitherto unseen since the COVID-19 pandemic.
My thoughts quickly spiralled. I started to over-think, not just about COVID-19, but what that fingerprint scanner means in terms of basic hygiene. Now we know that high-traffic areas such as schools and universities can play host to any number of infectious pathogens. Viruses can be passed from person-to-person through direct contact with contaminated surfaces. Such viruses are capable of surviving for several hours or even days, depending upon the type of surface it lands on. Sanitiser can certainly provide a solution, but it would likely be a laborious process to clean the fingerprint scanner after each use by thousands of students. In short, more queues and more delays.
In the midst of this thought-spiral, I reminded myself that the fingerprint scanner represents a small surface area, the pressure applied by each fingertip is likely minimal and the duration of the touch is generally a few seconds at the most. I told myself that this makes the risk of cross-contamination significantly less than other areas at the university, such as, say, door handles, bathroom taps or lift buttons.
I felt really annoyed with myself in terms of what seemed to be an overblown reaction to the fingerprint scanner. After a while, I reminded myself to give myself a little grace about my bout of anxiety. While it now seems like a long time ago, there is no doubt that the COVID-19 pandemic left an indelible imprint on our hearts and minds. We are now programmed to exercise caution in shared spaces. We think twice about public gatherings. We may experience pangs of anxiety when faced with small things that represent risk, such as fingerprint scanners.
Having experienced the COVID-19 pandemic, scientists are sounding the warning that the next pandemic could be coming. So, we worry. And we worry.
For South Africans, the stress factors have simply never diminished in any way, shape and form since the COVID-19 pandemic began to fade into the background of our lives. Faced with the incipient load shedding and the cost-of-living crisis, we are constantly battling elevated stress levels. This is true of the whole world. As the war in Ukraine casts a long shadow over the global economy, and Sudan descends into prolonged civil war, we are reminded more than ever of how tough and uncertain life can be.
The pandemic was a wake-up call to pay better attention to our mental health, and to try to do a better job of supporting the mental health of those around us. Sadly, while the pandemic generated interest in, and concern about, mental health, support for mental health remains sorely lacking. Mental health services in South Africa are notoriously poor, particularly so in public health spaces. Even now in the wake of the pandemic, people still don’t know where to seek help or are simply afraid to ask for it.
We often hear about self-care and wellness, and such concepts do seem like luxuries amidst the ‘busy-ness’ and demands of our everyday lives. How many of us really take the time out of our busy lives to practice meaningful self- care? However, we know that self-care is not an indulgence. In fact, self-care (however you define it) is a must.
Mental health can be tricky too. One has to keep checking in with oneself. Prolonged stress can have a person feeling as if he/she/they are fine, and then suddenly stress can hit like a tidal wave. Even something small-like the sight of a fingerprint scanner-can mean an anxiety attack. I was truly amazed by how a little thing like the fingerprint scanner on the way to work, could leave me with a racing heart and shaky hands. It also made me realise the extent to which I am allowing stress to consume my life.
I look around at the students on campus, some of whom are carefree and laughing, and some of whom are clearly anxious, biting their fingernails whilst hunched over their notes. Students tend to be preoccupied with money problems, academic worries and relationship woes. Student life can be so tough. I realise that, as higher education professionals, we may be used to dishing out advice to students but perhaps not so good at taking some of that advice ourselves.
I hope that you are all doing well. Maybe taking the time to read a book or take a walk. Or to connect with a friend. Above all, I hope that you take great care of yourself.
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