The Swab

On Wednesday, I was so exhausted that I called in sick. On Thursday, I worked half the day and felt myself passing out again, so I called in sick for the rest of the day. On Friday I was even more exhausted, so I called in sick again, much to my aggravation and embarrassment. 

I bowed to pressure and went for a COVID-19 test today. I waited in line for one excruciating hour--normally not a big deal, but I was so tired that the short wait became a true test of my drastically reduced endurance. 

Eventually, I was escorted to a nurse. She asked about my symptoms, told me to tilt my head back, and gently rammed a Q-Tip to the hilt of my right nostril, tickling my brain. "EAUUUGGAHHHH!" I wailed, breaking my own promise not to scream. I apologized profusely as blood oozed from my nose (or at least I was certain blood must be oozing from my nose), but the nurse was unperturbed. "You'll get your results in two or three days," she called as I staggered toward the exit. 

So that was today.