Anatomists say the circulatory system extends thousands of miles through the human body. That’s head to toe. Sadly, vascular unpleasantness escapes at times for headline sensation.

Not just the swine flu germs, which provide an object lesson of pandemic possibilities but also of a nation’s short attention span.

No more than a week ago, the new strain of influenza virus proved all the media rage, a round-the-clock cable news barrage of direness and accompanying video of workaday people in surgical masks.

Possibly through lobbying by the pork industry, caught in a swamp of bad associations because of the swine tag, health authorities pushed a more sci-fi name, H1N1, and cautioned against promiscuous handshaking.

Disinfectant makers enjoyed a springtime stimulus, their products in demand by the suddenly squeamish masses.

Experts talked at length about proper hand washing, a curious subject for a supposedly educated nation. Phrases like “cough etiquette” picked up an unexpected currency.

As news cycles layered themselves, one on another, the story lost steam. Infectious disease specialists were replaced on television screens by lawyers weighing in on the Drew Peterson indictment and smokejumpers detailing the California wildfires.

Germs remain oblivious to the attention, or inattention, and the threat of widespread flu contagion remains the same. Antibodies work the bloodstream, vigilant in defense against spreading sickness, but news consumers have moved on.

Some moved on to the story of Manny Ramirez, the Major League slugger and the latest to have his career bona fides dimmed by pharmaceutical cheating.

Mr. Ramirez, a 36-year-old outfielder for the Los Angeles Dodgers, got a 50-game suspension on Thursday for violating the league’s drug policy. He regarded it a case of medically mistaken identity, saying a doctor gave him something he shouldn’t have.

That the banned substance in question was, according to reports, a female fertility drug puts in question either the outfielder’s veracity or his choice in physicians.

It’s possible he was trying to get pregnant. A few months after a California woman had in-vitro-enabled octuplets, no surprises of a gestational nature seem too far-fetched for that state.

Others speculated the fertility medicine tempered the rather icky side effects of steroid use, which include shriveled personal regions. Trading bigger muscles up top for, ahem, a reduced capacity down below may have its rewards. Mr. Ramirez makes $25 million a year for hitting home runs.

The Dodger loses $7.6 million as a result of his suspension, but maybe he can get by on the rest of his take-home pay.

A word identifies ballplayers — Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Alex Rodriguez, among others — with steroid use. That word is “juiced.”

It’s a benign description for a damaging behavior, not far enough removed from toddlers sticking sharpened straws into fruit drink boxes.

Amid these grim tidings, the Washington Post reported last week that tightened job markets have increased enrollments at bartending schools.

At one, a 40-hour course in mixology goes for $600, an investment in a happy future, says the school director.

The nation weathers these hard times with personal intake either a concern or an opportunity.

Ken Newton’s column runs on Sunday and Tuesday.