My name is Lisa Carter. I'm a mom of two in Columbus, Ohio.
Eight months ago, I found the first droppings under my kitchen sink.
I called an exterminator. He charged me $580, set some bait stations, and promised they'd be gone within two weeks.
They weren't.
So I did what every desperate mom does. I took control.
Every morning before I made my kids' breakfast, I followed the same ritual. Wipe the counters with Dettol. Sweep the floor. Throw away anything that might have been touched overnight. Rewash every dish, every mug, every utensil before anyone used them.
I told myself: as long as I do this, we're safe.
My husband thought I was overreacting. My mom told me to calm down.
I kept cleaning.
Then the hantavirus deaths hit the news. Three people dead on a cruise ship. The WHO on every channel. I was scrolling the CDC website at 7 AM while my coffee brewed, my two-year-old sitting four feet away eating cereal.
That's when I found it.
CDC — Official Guidance on Hantavirus
"The virus can be easily released in the air in confined spaces when disturbed by human activities, such as sweeping or vacuuming."
— Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, cdc.gov
I looked at the broom in my hand.
I looked at my daughter, two feet away.
I sat down on the kitchen floor and I just stared.
Three months. Every single morning. I had been sweeping dried mouse droppings into the air my toddler was breathing.
My safety ritual was the danger.