Can being too clean be bad?

“Let’s see what’s going on here,” the doctor said as she looked at my charts.

I felt miserable but didn’t want to admit it, as if refusing to acknowledge sickness would somehow make it go away.

It didn’t.

My wife had repeatedly urged me to “just do it; go to the doctor,” but I had chosen to ignore her admonitions.

It was my daughter, the nurse, Madi, who finally convinced me. “You might have the flu,” she warned. “All your cleanliness might just be bad,” she added, with a raised eyebrow.

That planted a doubt in my mind, and my thermometer did register a fever, so I succumbed.

And there I sat, anticipating that the doctor would tell me it was really nothing and so glad you came in, thank you, bye.

But that wasn’t what she said.

“Let’s see here, looks like you’ve got the flu… and oh yes, strep throat too.”

I was given a mask to wear out of the clinic, just to make sure I kept my illness to myself.

It was like the prison warden being cast among the inmates, for I had relentlessly strived to keep my distance from people like… me.

“Of all people…” I thought as I waited for my meds to be filled.

I’m the one who is careful to keep a hand wipe or bottle of hand sanitizer close by. And though I make numerous pastoral visits to the hospitals, I’ve had the flu shot, and I make sure I sanitize my hands after each and every visit. I seemed an unlikely candidate for illness.

Just a few days previous to my little bout with infection, I had been wiping down the phone, cabinets, microwave, and anything anyone might have touched in our house. “I worry about my husband,” Lori slipped into a soliloquy as she watched me scurrying through my hygienic habits. “I fear he is turning into Howard Hughes.”

I wasn’t amused; this was serious business. “Well, I haven’t had so much as a snivel, and you’ve already had two colds this year,” I bragged in rebuttal.

You won’t find me pushing a grocery cart unless I have wiped down the handle with a sanitizer. Who knows what kid in a dirty diaper has scooted across that handle? And the truth is, I’m not fond of shaking hands either, for after all, though they might be the hands of some of the nicest people on God’s good earth, how do I know where those hands have been?

I even make sure I double wash the eating utensils at the church meals. How do I know someone didn’t cough some virus on that fork before I picked it up?

And don’t touch my cell phone, please. That will require a sanitation ceremony. The same holds true for my laptop, thank you. And if I touch your cell phone, and then touch mine, well, some germs from your cell phone might have hopped from your phone to my hand and then to my cell phone. You guessed got it: another sanitation ceremony is required.

Please take no offense, it’s not you, AS A PERSON. It’s just that I trust the hygienic history of no one’s hands but my own and a very select group of cleanliness aficionados like myself.

But now, since I am officially one of the infected, I fear I no longer qualify for the cleanliness club: I’ve become, “one of them.”

Walking out of the clinic with the mask, I lowered my head in shame.  All my work as a bona fide germaphobe seemed pointless.

So, should I (and you) give up the quest for cleanliness?

The research seems to say, “yes and no.”

Madi was actually right: being too clean can be bad.

Something called the “hygiene hypothesis,” suggests that a lack of childhood exposure to harmful germs and fewer childhood infections are to blame for the relatively recent rise in allergies. Moreover, while it is important to maintain good personal and home hygiene, exposure to “good and bad germs,” which are present in our everyday environment, helps our bodies learn how to fight infection and tell the difference between harmful and harmless bacteria.

So, I’ve determined to loosen up a bit on my intentions to eradicate all possible germs in my home and work environments.

You may not catch me wrapping my arms around the shopping cart handle, but go ahead, touch my cell phone, and provided I at least know who you are, I hereby vow not to sanitize it.

Just don’t listen too carefully.

You might hear me whispering a prayer for hygienic protection.