I got a COVID-19 test
Coronavirus is mean. One of the most important steps a person can take during a pandemic is to socially distance, wear masks, and avoid prolonged contact with people. That is a lot easier said than done and sometimes these are ideal steps that clearly divide theory from practice. Over the past few months I have seen variations of all the standard rules: socially distant neighbors interacting but with no masks; moments of interaction and good mask use, but the group is standing so close that social distancing isn’t a real thing. In fact, it’s more like a reunion. I’ve even seen people walk up to each another with no face cover, and dismiss the rules of engagement all together— shaking hands, touching, and embracing in such a way that makes transmission instant— no two-day incubation period required… it’s right there on your sleeve. The rules of social safety in these times and the guiding principles of precaution seem to apply strictly when they can, and in other times, some variation that resembles recommendations tends to be, meh, okay enough.
Pandemic life ain’t easy. I want to assume most of us— definitely not all— are trying our best to make it through the stress of shopping, public transit, getting gas, and simply being in a world completely on its head. Let’s agree that we are all on a spectrum of mask use and recommended behaviors. At one end, there are the Fives— they sleep and brush their teeth in a mask. Then at the other end, there are the Ones— they can’t spell “mask” and are also the same people who get moody when they can’t smoke… on a plane, landing at a Hydrogen factory.
I’m a solid Four. There are times when I just can’t wear a mask— even in public! But, let me explain. I do a lot of stuff outdoors and usually very early in the morning, when it’s just me, some clueless birds, and really just my shadow to talk to. If I stroll around my block, I’m maskless as the day I was born. Same goes when and if the majority of my doings are alone, in the open and away from anyone. I also tossed the face mask eons ago— too cumbersome to wrangle that thing around my ears— off, on, off, on, down, up. Instead I use the covering more like a scarf, easily lifted from the neck to cover whatever I need. Imagine the tip of an uncircumcised penis. That’s what I look like, a breathable, stretchy, dick ready for groceries. There’s a great selfie on my Instagram I dubbed, Cranium Uncircumciscis.
As a Four, I have concerns though. While I take most of the precautions most of the time, most days, coronavirus is a tricky vixen. A person can have no symptoms and no indication that s/he is ill. I don’t work in healthcare and my industry is on hiatus, so I shhhould be fine. Riiight? One way to find out— get tested. So I did.
Let’s skip to the results. They returned negative. I didn’t have any real anxiety around getting tested since I have basically been a good boy, but eventually we all need to have it done, a few times. My virologist friend said that I should preface this sentence— “generally speaking,” there are two types of tests available to detect the coronavirus. There is a blood test, able to help identify antibodies and good for understanding if a person has ever had an infection. Then there is another test that looks for an active infection, by means of a swab— no blood. Plenty of information is online about the benefits, recommendations, cons and pros of each type of test. I had the second kind, where a big fat sterile swab was inserted gently up my nose.
Overall the test was quick, painless, and I waited only a few minutes. The testing site was outdoors in a parking lot. After a few initial screening questions I was sent to another tent where I waited until being called to sit down for my test. Everything was outside, so be prepared to stand if you’re going. These setups are meant for efficiency, not comfort. I sensed the nurse providing my test was stressed, or tired, or both. It looked like I was his three-thousandth patient that week, and it was only Tuesday morning. He was cordial and gave me information about the process. “I’m going to insert this swab into your nose on both sides. You may have the sensation of sneezing and your eyes may water. This is perfectly normal. Here are tissues for you to use afterward. Go ahead, lean back.” What first felt like a thin, scratchy finger, in a matter of seconds felt more like a twig, then a rod, and then finally an entire broom handle, slightly on fire. He was right my eyes watered and I felt like sneezing, but if I did I feared some particle of my brain might jostle out all over my jeans. “I’m going to do the other side now, to get it over with.” Same ordeal. Different nostril. “We’ll text results in about three days. Any questions?” I was too busy wiping my nose and wiping my eyes to ask anything. It wasn’t pain, it was mostly mild discomfort and confusion that my brain was processing. “No. No questions. Thanks, have good day.” I left.
I am happy to see more testing and more people taking advantage. We need it and we will need it for a long time to come. If I would have wanted to know anything before my test, it would have been a glimpse of the swab and how it’s actually more like an XL Q-tip. A handkerchief to carry with me afterwards would have been #money too. Rating the experience, one equaling— I see myself developing home technology to complete nasal swabbing regularly in my bathroom for fun; and 5— I prefer being dragged over hot coals by wild oxen, it ranked a solid two.
Get a test. You need it. We all need it done.
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[ photo, originally color: CDC ]
