As the faceless alien pushed the sample swab down my throat and into my liver, my gag reflex over-stimulated and I heaved like a cat expelling a hairball. And yes, suggesting the swab went all the way down to my liver is a gross exageration of reality, but ask any gynae patient about real versus perceived medical experiences and you’ll quickly learn that the perception is what counts.
If it feels gross, it is.
I just tolerated my fourth COVID test. I had to have a few before because of my ankle operations. But this was also my last. I don’t care if in the future I cough out a virus the size of a Chevrolet Spark, this is it. And the only reason I went for a fourth bloody test is because I’m scheduled to see people in the next two weeks…
Wouldn’t it be grand if it was just me? Apart from my introverted little heart beating zealously at the idea of ‘just me’, my medical aid would certainly have saved a bit of money and I would not live in constant fear of making other people sick.
My immune system is a beast. Apart from the symptoms I have now, I never get sick. But others do not have an immune system from Kripton and are not as lucky to survive the virus unscathed. My body may take an infection like a champ, but my mind will fail me if I have to live with the idea that I made someone sick.
I live alone and I’ve never been more thankful for that. If I can just get the next two weeks’ meetings behind me I can self-isolate until I can afford my first flying car. But to do that, I had to swallow a swab.
And now…the wait…