COVID test ends well but proves emotional

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 05/10/2020 (1983 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

I went for a COVID-19 test.

It started with a tickle in my throat on a Friday evening, which progressed to a salty, raw sore throat and runny nose the following night. By Sunday, I developed a full-blown head cold, with chills, headache and body aches that aggravated the deep level of anxiety in my gut.

Could this be the novel coronavirus at work? If it is, could I be one of the people who gets really sick or even dies from it? Where did this come from? How did I get sick?

I wear a face mask. I wash my hands. I don’t go out. I’ve been really careful.

There’s nothing quite like getting sick in the middle of a pandemic to really set off some intense health anxiety.

Bright and early Monday morning, I set off. I didn’t even grab a coffee to go or a bottle of water or a book. I just wanted to get in line and get my test. I left the kids in their beds to sleep in. They couldn’t go to school if I potentially had COVID-19, so they may as well enjoy the day off.

My partner was already getting ready for his first conference call as I threw on a jacket and headed out into the drizzly morning.

I arrived at the Main Street drive-thru testing site at 8:40 a.m. Cars were already lined up around the block, but I expected that — I knew going for a test in Winnipeg was going to be a big investment of time.

I put my minivan in park and watched vehicles start to lineup behind me, blocking the turning lane onto Mountain Avenue. Shortly after 9 a.m., those at the front begin to inch forward. Progress. Little by little, I was moving closer to getting my test and heading home.

It seems as though there are stages of waiting in a COVID test line (at least for me). First, there is the hopefulness stage, when you first arrive and realize it will be a while but you are hopeful stories of other people waiting hours for a test are either exaggerated or maybe just not the way this day will go.

After a while, the hopefulness fades, and you enter into a stage where you realize you are, in fact, in this for the long haul. You should have grabbed a bottle of water, or a snack. You could leave, but you’ve already invested all this time and you do need to get that test.

So you stay, and ponder how long it’s going to take. That’s the realization stage.

As you’re going through these emotions, the cars ahead of you inch forward every now and then, giving you a little bit of hope. It’s short-lived; there are still so many people ahead of you.

After a while, frustration sets in. For me, I wanted to blame everyone I could think of for me having to wait in that line for so long. The guy behind me didn’t look that sick, did he? There were probably lots of people not as sick as me in front of me, too.

Why don’t we have more testing sites? Why aren’t the people working faster? How did I even get sick, anyway? Whose fault is this?

None of it was fair or rational. The people working at the testing sites certainly weren’t to blame. They’re working as hard as they can, taking swabs day in and day out in the middle of a pandemic. Even in my most frustrated state, I appreciate them. (Though, like I said, I wish there were more of them.)

My mood weaved in and out from frustrated to acceptance. “Well, I guess I just live here now. In this line. Forever.”

OK, I’m being dramatic, but that’s what happens when you sit in your minivan alone for nearly five hours, waiting. It’s the same feeling as being stuck at a crossing, watching a really long train.

When it was finally my turn, my van was ushered into the MPI building by a security officer at the door and someone wearing personal protective equipment flagging me into a spot.

There, I had to hold up a paper with my contact information and symptoms checked off and my Manitoba Health Card against the closed window, while two health-care workers took down the information. Then, they told me to lower the window and asked me a few more questions. After that, I got my COVID-19 test swab.

If you haven’t had one, I will tell you that it’s not nearly as bad as you’ve heard it is. It’s the same feeling as when you get a bunch of water up your nose at a pool: uncomfortable.

I rolled out of the test site at 1:24 p.m., in desperate need of a stretch, a glass of water and a washroom. Two days later, I got my results online. Negative.

I’m not going to lie, by that point, I had already figured I probably didn’t have COVID-19, because my symptoms were getting better, not worse.

I’m grateful for that. I’m also grateful for the people who are working so hard to test the endless lines of people and the people who are working in the labs, turning over all those results.

Here’s hoping I never have to do it again.

shelka79@hotmail.com

Twitter: @ShelleyACook