Dear friends,

When I first set out to write this speech, I had it in my mind that I wanted to give you a thorough description of bird flu. Either that or read a ready-made speech on cheetahs and their ever-so-boring ways of life. However, I soon discovered that finding interesting, yet factual information on bird flu was virtually impossible.

I wasn't going to quit, though. Boldly, I kept writing the disastrous speech. But the knowledge collected made no sense to me. The text didn't feel very believable and provoked no thoughts whatsoever. At my lowest point, I even considered making up a touching story about a brave baby chick who survives bird flu.

Now, I can't even count how many times I decided to resort to the cheetah speech instead. But, at the end of day, I just couldn't do that. Personally, I have nothing against cheetahs, but that speech was agony from start to the bitter end.

So basically I had two options:

1. I could either feed you the facts on bird flu you've heard over and over again, act as if I actually understood what I'm talking about, and finish the rubbish speech with that touching story of the brave baby chick who survives bird flu.

2. OR, I could change the angle.

And that's exactly what I decided to do. I decided to talk about something that does affect me — affect us all, really — the confusion, hysteria, paranoia and fear the threat of these kinds of diseases create. And trust me: these are areas in which I have lots and lots of personal experience.

Let me start off with my own almost-near-death experience with bird flu:

A couple of weeks ago, a pigeon flew at me and smacked against my face. It was an exciting twist to my day — potentially lethal, but exciting nevertheless. I'd also had a nosebleed that morning, so I was having an extra-exciting day.

Anyway, the first thing I thought about when the pigeon smacked against my face was bird flu and death. "This is it, then," I thought. "The bird got me infected. My time on this planet is up. It was a rather short time; but I guess 'when you gotta go you gotta go'." It was all pretty depressing.

Luckily, I managed to find the bright side of the situation in a matter of minutes; I pictured my parents sending me to Hawaii for the last days of my life. And that did the trick. Suddenly, I didn't feel depressed at all. I would finally learn to surf. I was quite excited.

Actually, I got so excited about the learning-to-surf part that a couple of hours later I decided to send an e-mail to my mom. The e-mail message said something like this:

Hi Mom. Exclamation mark.
A huge killer bird attacked me and knocked me down. Full stop.
I think he got me infected with bird flu. Full stop.
I might not have many weeks to live. Full stop.
My nose has already started to bleed. Full stop.
Give my best to Dad. Full stop.
Love, comma,
Your only daughter, who is about to die.

PS. I'd really like to spend my last days in Hawaii. A three star hotel will do.

End of message.

In a matter of minutes after sending my e-mail, I received an answer from my mom. Her message was significantly shorter than mine. Actually, it consisted of only three words:

Get. A. Life.

End of message.

And that was that. The subject of the killer bird has not been discussed again. And needless to say, my parents did not send me to Hawaii. I haven't learned to surf.

As shocked as I was to learn how little my mom cared about the state of health of her only daughter, I sort of envy her ability not to worry about things over which we have no control. My mom's reaction reflects the attitude of people who think that bird flu panic feeds off on the neurotic. Yet, I must admit, although I take a lot of comfort in my mom's carefree attitude, I'm still a little bit afraid of bird flu. But then again, I'm also afraid of elevators, clowns, horse flies, Christopher Walken and public speaking. So I wouldn't take my fears all too seriously.

Unfortunately, I cannot reassure you by saying that bird flu is not going to kill us all tomorrow. Anything could happen by tomorrow. But I would also not advise you to live every day as it were your last, because that would simply not be possible.

In a way, the threat of bird flu never disappears. Not really. Because if it's not bird flu, it's something else. The name and form might change, but the fear remains. Worriers, such as myself, can and will find other things to worry about.

Thank you for listening to me.