Rebooting the Mission: The Podcast is Back. Here's the Messy, Honest, Human Story behind it.

Summary

This episode is a little different. After releasing 18 episodes since April, I’m finally sharing the personal story behind why I left my blog/podcast/social media—and why I came back. From life upheaval and burnout to pandemic loss and resilience, this is the story behind Infectious Dose. If you're new here, it's a great place to understand the mission behind the mic. And if you've been following since the early days—this one’s for you.

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She had a PhD, a blog, a platform.

She broke down viruses in plain language, earned a following, made connections.

She posted. She engaged. She explained.

And then… she disappeared.

Once.

Then again.

No goodbye post. No pinned tweet. Just silence.

Some assumed she burned out. Others forgot she was ever there.

The truth? Messier than that. More human. More painful. More real.

But now… she’s back.

Not for applause. Not for ego. But because science needs clarity.

Because misinformation has momentum.

And because silence, this time, felt more dangerous than trying again.

This is Rebooting the Mission: The Podcast Is Back. Here’s the Messy, Honest, Human Story Behind It.

So, Who Am I?

Hi there! I'm Heather, and I have a PhD in virus pathogenesis. I did my graduate work in a BSL4 lab, studying hemorrhagic arenaviruses—the kinds of viruses that require the highest level of biosecurity.

I trained under CJ Peters, a pioneer in the field. If you’ve ever seen the movie Outbreak, the character played by Dustin Hoffman was based on him. CJ taught me that curiosity wasn’t just allowed—it was essential. And that my ideas mattered. The work was intense. But it grounded me in something crucial: the importance of accuracy and intention in infectious disease work.

As much as I wanted to stay in academia, I couldn’t. I needed stability and flexibility to support my family, so I became a scientific writer—something I was good at, and that let me keep using my training in a meaningful way.

In 2014, during the West African Ebola epidemic, I was struck by how much misinformation filled the media. There was a deep gap between what the science actually said—and what the public was hearing. And it wasn’t just confusion. It was dangerous confusion.

I wanted to help bridge that gap. So I started a blog called Pathogen Perspectives—which is still archived at pathogenperspectivesblog.com. That blog was the beginning of something good. My goal was simple: help people understand what was really happening. Offer facts, not fear. Ground people in clarity when the world felt uncertain.

My training gave me the depth. But what I think resonated most wasn’t just the science—it was the tone. I wrote like a human being. People weren’t looking for jargon. They were looking for truth that felt calm and clear. I realized early on: clarity is a kind of care. When you explain something well, you’re not just informing—you’re protecting.

I still remember the first comment I ever got on a post. It started with: “Thank you for the professional and, no doubt, lifesaving web page.” Now… I don’t know if it was lifesaving. But I know I helped people understand some fundamentals about Ebola. And that felt like a success.

CJ supported me there, too. He let me interview him for the blog and even answered questions for my followers on Twitter. He was an incredible mentor and advocate. And while time and life have pulled us in different directions, the impact he had on my voice, my confidence, and my path—that’s still very much with me.

Through the blog, I met amazing people. I built a small following. I started writing for online publications. I was even asked to support the Nigerian Ebola Alert initiative as a subject matter expert—providing guidance to teams fighting the outbreak on the ground.

I also connected with scientists around the world. And it was exhilarating. There’s something powerful about finding people who share your curiosity about the microbial world—and ask the same weird, wonderful questions.

Through my writing and conversations, I built credibility translating complex virology and outbreak science into something clear, grounded, and useful.

But then… life happened.

Why I Left

I was in a marriage that, truthfully, drained me—emotionally, mentally, physically, logistically. And I was alone in Texas. Far from family, with just a few close friends who were wonderful… but who didn’t really know the extent of my situation.

Then I lost a beloved aunt—and not long after that, my sister. Grief and isolation became my everyday. I slowly began retreating from everything… the blog, social media, all of it. Life at home was getting harder, and I didn’t have the space to show up. There were moments I’d sit down to write—maybe to explain something, maybe to bust a myth—and I’d freeze. Not because I didn’t care. I did. But I didn’t have the bandwidth.

I had a young child. I was trying to keep life steady—to just get through each day. I couldn’t keep engaging, even with the science communication I loved. I was in survival mode. Around that time, the national political climate started shifting in ways that were… hard to ignore. And for me, it revealed even more about the people around me, and about the relationship I was in, and added another layer to everything I was already carrying.

Four years passed. And slowly, I found my way back online. I was reconnecting, meeting new people, finding pieces of myself again.

And then… everything unraveled.

I finally found the courage to ask for a divorce. That decision set off a chain reaction—chaos, retaliation, instability. And then—two days later—COVID lockdown hit. I was stuck. Another full year in the wreckage while I had to work my full-time job and facilitate my son's remote school learning at home.

In April 2020, I lost my mom to COVID. She was far away and died alone, surrounded by strangers. This was before hospitals started using iPads to let families say goodbye virtually—it still wasn’t safe then. It was devastating.

9 months later my son and I finally moved out, but it meant working two jobs just to keep us afloat. My ex did everything he could to make life harder. And there was just… nothing left in the tank. No room for writing. No room for the work I loved. Just survival.

Then one of my brothers passed away. And not long after that, my dad. Both losses were hard—my brother’s death was unexpected, but I was incredibly close to my dad. That one hit hardest. It’s still hard.

The photo here from my wedding includes my dad, two of my brothers and my mom is hidden in the back. Of those in this photo, only my brother, Roger (front right), and I are still alive.

Every day after that was one foot in front of the other. My son was in high school. He needed me. And that became my only focus. There was a lot of grieving. And not much space for healing.

But in the middle of all that darkness—someone reached out. An online friend found me on LinkedIn and sent a message. She said she and another friend had been worried, and just wanted to check in. It meant the world. She was so kind. So supportive. And she has—hands down—the coolest social media handle I’ve ever seen. Looking at you, The Febrile Muse.

When I finally returned online this past April, I saw all these messages waiting for me—some from people just saying they missed the blog. Others asking if I was okay. I hadn’t seen them at the time… but reading them now, they mean more than I can say.

So—thank you. Truly.

And I’m sorry I left you hanging.

Why I Came Back

Now, in 2025, things have changed.

My son just graduated from high school, and he’s stepping into adulthood—which has opened up a little more space in my life. But more than that, after years of effort, something else has shifted too.

I worked really hard to keep communication open with my ex—for my son’s sake—even when it was painful. Even when it would’ve been easier to shut the door.

It took time. It took boundaries. It took more energy than I had some days. But not long ago, we had a calm, honest conversation—the kind I didn’t think was possible. He acknowledged how hard things were. He apologized. And for the first time in a long time, things feel… manageable.

That matters more than I can explain. And it’s part of why I can finally do this work again. But it’s not just that I can—I have to. Because science misinformation is worse than ever. People with no training—and dangerous agendas—are spreading falsehoods faster than facts. Experts are exhausted. Silenced. Or simply overwhelmed.

I’ve seen posts claiming mRNA vaccines alter DNA. I’ve seen people call measles “just a harmless childhood illness.” And I’ve seen public health twisted into conspiracy—one tweet, one reel, one video at a time.

There are others out there fighting this fight—and doing a damn fine job. But it’s not enough. Science communication is too important. Too big. We need all hands on deck. So I came back. Because our voices are still needed.

I’m still needed.

I’ll be honest—coming back wasn’t easy. I was nervous. Not because I doubted the work. I’ve always believed in the work. But I wasn’t sure if anyone would still care. Or trust me. Or even remember me. But I came back anyway. Because the only thing scarier than speaking up… is staying quiet.

And if I’m being completely honest… I need this, too. I need a space to talk through this mess. To process what’s happening. To share what I know—because I genuinely can’t keep my mouth shut when I see bad science flying around. And I live in Texas, so… I need a space to have a conversation—even if it’s just with myself and a microphone.

That’s why I restarted this podcast—to be part of the larger effort to bring science back into the public conversation with clarity, compassion, and context. And if you knew me before I disappeared—if you followed my blog, or shared my work back in the day—thank you.

I know I bailed. Please know… I had to.

But I’m here now. And I’m grateful to be reconnecting with some of you. I hope this is just the beginning—of something stronger, more sustainable, and more honest. Not just for me. But for what this podcast can grow into. Because this isn’t just a comeback. It’s a rebuild.

What to Expect

If you're new to the show, Infectious Dose is where I unpack infectious diseases, pandemic myths, vaccine science, emerging pathogens—and the real stories behind the headlines.

My goal? To help you make sense of the chaos. No jargon. No fear-mongering. Just clear, evidence-based info delivered with a little heart and a little grit.

Right now, it’s just me—no flashy studio, no cohost. Just a scientist with a microphone, a brain full of viruses, and a deep need to correct bad science on the internet. Each episode takes a headline or a topic and breaks it down. Think: fact over fear, calm over clickbait.

Every episode also has a blog post on the website—infectiousdose.com—so if you’d rather read than listen, or want links to studies and sources, it’s all there. And if I reference a paper you can’t access, I’ll do my best to provide the full PDF. I believe scientific transparency shouldn’t be stuck behind a paywall.

Eventually, I plan to bring on guests—scientists, public health experts, maybe even the occasional mythbuster—to offer more perspectives. But for now, it’s a solo show. And it works for me.

Also, full disclosure: this is audio-only for now. Why? Because my office is a mess, and I don’t want to put on makeup—or pants—to record a podcast. Simple as that.

That said, I do plan to get episodes onto YouTube soon, with real-time captions and waveform visuals for my fellow hearing-impaired listeners. (I got hearing aids in 2020, and they changed my life.) I rely on captions for everything, so it only feels right to make that kind of access available here too. It’s just a different kind of production—and I’m a one-woman team.

So far, there are 18 episodes—including the first two I released back in 2021—and I drop new ones every week: Tuesdays at midnight (or, for the time-challenged like me, Wednesdays at 12am).

Topics range from specific pathogens—like hantavirus, measles, polio, bird flu, anthrax—to deeper dives into how we think about disease. I’ve got episodes coming on urban legends like Plum Island, and movies like Contagion and Outbreak. There’s also one about what it’s really like to work in a BSL-4 lab. Spoiler: it’s not like the movies.

I also run a recurring segment called WTF-RFK—where I debunk whatever wild misinformation Robert F. Kennedy Jr. is spreading that week. If it’s relevant, I’ll cover it.

Not sure where to start? I recommend my first measles episode. It’s short, informative, and it even got a shoutout from former measles researcher Dr. Judy Minkoff, who said:

"A fantastic explainer on measles by The Infectious Dose. I can't recommend this one loudly enough."

Since it’s summer, you might also like the hantavirus episode (because yes, those little buggers are a real risk when you’re camping or working outside), or the 4th of July special, which covers BBQ food safety with a side of fireworks and laughter. And if you’re into biodefense or true-crime-adjacent science stories, check out the anthrax episode. It covers everything from how those spores form to the 2001 letter attacks.

I also created a comprehensive vaccine safety series that breaks down exactly what’s in vaccines, how we know they’re safe, and which ones you can safely get—and should get—while pregnant.

Look—whatever my flaws, the one thing you can count on is that every episode is thoroughly researched and cited. If something changes with the science, I’ll update it in the blog. And if I ever get something wrong, tell me. I’ll fix it. I do my best—and I’ll always be honest about where the evidence ends and uncertainty begins.

And if you’ve followed me since the early days, you might remember I was also working on a novel. That project got shelved when life got overwhelming, but I never let it go. It’s a biomedical thriller—because of course it is—starring a virologist who gets pulled into a murder investigation when a body turns up infected with an unknown virus.

I finished the manuscript. Got feedback from an interested agent. And I’m revising it now. It’s the first in a series. And I will publish it—whether it’s with an agent or on my own. Like the podcast, that book is another way I want to bring science and story together. Because we need both.

Where We Go From Here

If you're skeptical, I get it. There’s a lot of noise out there, and trust isn’t automatic. So here’s my ask: Pick an episode. Any one. If it helps you make sense of something confusing—then this whole reboot was worth it.

And hey—this isn’t a monologue. It’s a conversation. Tell me what you want to hear more about. What confuses you? What frustrates you in health news? This show isn’t just about what I think matters—it’s about what you need to understand your world.

If that mission resonates—if you care about clarity, about science, about cutting through the noise—the best way to support this podcast is simple:

Subscribe. Share it with a friend. And if you’ve got a minute, leave a review. I know—everyone says that. And I promise I won’t end every episode this way. But for now, as I rebuild something I deeply believe in… it matters more than you know.

You can find me on social media @pathogenscribe, or on the podcast website at infectiousdose.com.

Thanks for listening. And thank you—truly—for letting me be part of this conversation again.