Outbreak

The little-known story of the 1918 Spanish Flu and how we’re preparing for the next great pandemic

- Alanna Mitchell

IT STARTED INNOCENTLY enough, with sniffles and a cough. Then the fever pounced. Every muscle, every joint, ached. Blood poured from the nose. Teeth fell out. So did hair. The stench was indescribable. Vomiting and diarrhea were common, as was delirium. Extreme anxiety led some sufferers to take their own lives. Others shrieked in terror, prey to technicolour nightmares.

Breathing became laboured. Then the dreaded mahogany-coloured patches appeared over each cheekbone. The skin took on a deep plummy red colour — doctors dubbed it “dusky heliotrope” — then began to darken to blackish purple as the lungs filled with fluid. When fingertips and toes turned inky, the game was up. The end came swiftly. People fought to catch a breath only to drown in their own bodily fluids.

This was death by Spanish Flu.

The pandemic that swept the world from 1918 to 1919 killed at least 50 million. It was the most lethal infection since the Black Death of the 14th century, disproportionately taking the lives of young and otherwise healthy adults. In Canada, more than 50,000 people perished, roughly the same number of Canadians who died during the four years of the First World War. The pandemic was likely the biggest global killing event of the 20th century.

Most of the victims died during 13 grim weeks beginning in September 1918. It was a tsunami of death that left families, communities and nations reeling.

But while dreadful contagions such as the Black Death grasp the imagination, spawning lasting recollection through art, word and song, the Spanish Flu slipped quickly from memory. It was the forgotten plague. The first international conference on the pandemic, held on its 80th anniversary in Cape Town, drew just 36 academics.