Recently, a Moldovan physician gained widespread attention for his unusual yet stern film regarding kissing. Furthermore, it defies expectations.
Dr. Viktor Ivanovik, who has almost 300,000 TikTok subscribers, discusses the health hazards associated with saying goodbye to a loved one who has passed away.
Ivanovik cautions viewers in the video, saying, “Never kiss the deceased!”
He says the body starts to break down about nine hours after death, releasing dangerous microorganisms. According to Ivanovik, kissing the dead could expose you to these microorganisms and cause you to lose your sense of smell.
Online comments have been flowing in response to his video.
Many viewers had never thought about the possible dangers of coming into contact with microorganisms before. Some, though, talked about their own experiences.
“I kissed my father and would do it a million times over,” an emotional spectator said. He’s my dad, so I can lose my sense of taste and smell!”
The advice from Dr. Ivanovik demonstrates the need for a careful balance between cultural customs and health considerations. Unaware of the risks, many people perform these rites as a last gesture of respect and closure for their loved ones.
However, for a lot of people, the ease of saying farewell to a loved one in person exceeds any potential health risks. This opens up a larger discussion about the importance of cultural sensitivity when dealing with these subjects, especially when there are enduring customs at stake.
Ivanovik’s TikTok video has sparked a fresh conversation on social media, urging users to recognize the intensely intimate nature of farewells while simultaneously being aware of the possible hazards.
Dr. Ivanovik has increased awareness of the significance of comprehending health hazards related to everyday habits through his movie, demonstrating that safety and health should never be disregarded, even in times of loss and sadness.
I Incurred a $500 Fine When My Neighbor Falsely Accused My Son of Her Toddler’s Hallway Scribbles — I Couldn’t Let It Go
Caitlin often found herself informally supervising her neighbor Stacy’s young son, Nate, providing him some stability while his mom sought time for herself. However, when Nate decorated the hallway walls with doodles during Caitlin’s absence, she was unjustly slapped with a $500 fine. Determined to set things right, Caitlin devised a plan for retribution.
Stacy had become accustomed to letting her young son, Nate, roam the hallway as a play area.
“It’s safe, Caitlin,” she’d assure me. “Plus, it’s their version of outdoor play.”
She would then retreat behind her door, leaving Nate to his devices, often while she entertained guests.
“I just need some downtime,” she confessed to me once in the laundry room. “I’m a grown woman with needs, you know. Being a single mom, you must get it.”
I understood her need for personal space, but I could never imagine letting my own son, Jackson, wander the hallways alone. Despite our general familiarity with the neighbors, the corridors didn’t feel completely secure.
Jackson, slightly older than Nate, seemed concerned about the younger boy, who often loitered alone, clutching his tattered teddy bear.
“Mom,” Jackson would say during his playtime, “maybe we should invite him over.”
Grateful for my son’s compassion, I agreed. It was better to keep both children within sight, ensuring their safety.
Thus, we began having Nate over for snacks, toys, and movies—a simple arrangement that brought him noticeable joy.
“He mentioned he likes playing with others,” Jackson noted one day. “I don’t think his mom spends much time with him.”
And interestingly, Stacy hardly acknowledged this setup. Once she realized Nate was safe with us, she seemed to extend her leisure time even more.
Eventually, it became routine for Nate to knock on our door whenever his mother let him out.
“Hello,” he’d say, teddy in hand. “I’m here to play.”
However, one day, we were away at my parents’ house for my mom’s birthday.
“I hope Nate will be okay,” Jackson expressed concern as we drove.
“Oh, honey,” I responded. “His mom is there. She’s responsible for his safety too.”
Upon our return, we were greeted by hallway walls covered in childish drawings—a colorful chaos of stick figures and squiggles.
“Nate must have had fun,” I remarked, searching for my keys.
“Isn’t he going to be in trouble?” Jackson asked, eyeing the artwork.
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