The hospital called to schedule my Covid test. It took just 24 hours for them to contact me after receiving my referral. I give that response a B+.
It’s a drive-through test so I roll into the first checkpoint and they ask that I keep my mask on and put my ID in the windshield so they can verify my identity. I roll to the next checkpoint where they verify my name and birthdate and instruct me to pull forward into a designated parking spot.
It’s 97 degrees today and the poor, sweaty nurses are congregated under a pop up tent getting blasted by an enormous turbine fan. They wait until a director summons them to a specific parking stall.
A pair of nurses approach my car and direct me to roll down my window. Their protective gear seems light… a pair of high school chemistry safety glasses, a paper mask, and gloves. The lead nurse instructs me to look straight ahead and not to move as she inserts the swab.
Now, having heard many stories, I was prepared for it be unpleasant. But it was GNARLY. She stuck that giant swab straight to the back of my head and for an excruciating slow count of ten, she twisted and turned that swab. Twisted right… two… twisted left… three… twisted right… four. I was not silent – it was involuntarily whining. And maybe a little crying.
Here’s a graphic to help you understand the agony I just described.
And now we wait. Two to seven days.