My heart fluttering, I gazed deep into his eyes and whispered “please be gentle with me…it’s my first time…” as he prepared to thrust his…
…swab right up my left nostril. Yes, 18 months into the pandemic, I got my first COVID swab this week, after wandering too close to plague central by transiting through Auckland airport. There are many good things about the love of your life being a GP, and getting my swab done at home is one of them. Don’t worry, it’s all official and above board – the paperwork was all done and it was requested by the hospital before I’d be allowed back on the premises. We flew back into Wellington on Tuesday night, and it wasn’t until Thursday morning that the health board decided I was persona non grata and I was shuffled ignominiously out the hospital door.
I’m the last person in my family to get swabbed in fact. Our daughter who is recently arrived from Canada had to get swabbed before travel, and the twins have had them due to living in an icebox of a flat that is constantly bathed in the respiratory germs of young people. My husband never gets sick but I think he got swabbed as part of training their staff in setting up their swabbing clinic last year.
My swab came back negative so I’m all ready to be canon fodder for the upcoming wave of infections we’re all gloomily anticipating. Somehow it’s not as scary as last year, partly because there’s no longer the fear of the unknown, but mostly because my colleagues and I are now vaccinated – hooray!