The Q-tip of Comfort

 

I don’t know how many of you have had a Covid Test, but apparently you really want to pay attention to which box you check under test type.  Sara and I had ours this week as part of our returning to school in person protocol, and let’s just say that not all tests are created equal.  There is the blood test, which for the needle averse, could be scary.  And then there is the nasal swab, which can best be described as a fiery poker to the brain.  I had heard that it was uncomfortable, but clearly that was coming from aliens who have a much higher discomfort threshold than I do.  Granted, I should have known there was going to be some ”discomfort” when the nurse pulled the swab from the package like she was pulling a ninja sword from a scabbard.  Do you remember those really long matches that people kept around their fireplaces for lighting the kindling from a safe distance?  Yes, well those are short compared to the nasal swab.   And so, despite looking at the world’s longest Q-tip, I was still naive enough to think that maybe it’s really long so that she doesn’t have to get too close to me.  Wrong, we got intimate.  And it’s not really so bad initially, it’s just that it takes long enough to actually penetrate the brain that you are convinced that when she hesitates for a second that she has made it in as far as she needs.  I think that pause must have been so she could make that ninety-degree turn somewhere north of my eyeball before really getting in there deep.  I am pretty sure I saw cotton in the corner of my eye as the swab went by.  And it’s not like it’s just in and out.  It’s in, pause, adjust; in further, pause, adjust; in further, and jackpot, cerebellum.  And don’t forget the twisting, because apparently you can’t just find the end of the rainbow, you need to spin the Q-tip of Comfort in order to find the entire rainbow. And oh yes, there were tears, uncontrolled tears.  Of pain, of discomfort, and mostly of relief as she finally pulled the swab out.  But what they don’t tell you in the manual is that apparently Covid might only be present in one nostril.  So yeah, it’s a package deal, and nostril number two knows what’s coming.

So that’s fun.  Clearly things remain interesting down here.   I won’t say that things are better or worse for us, just the same and different all at once.  Sara and I were at school this week trying to wrap our heads around how we are going to teach our students, and maintain safety and social distancing when we return to campus, which happens for us in three weeks, hence the test.  Our family will have to go from near zero exposure to being communally exposed to over half of the student population once we all are back on campus and bringing all the viral love home to share.  Yes, with the numbers as high as they still are in Brasilia, we are nervous.   Thankfully, our school has the resources to do this right, and Brasilia itself has a favorable climate that allows open windows, fresh air,  and being outside, which should make a big difference.   And we have one more week of school before we get a weeklong break, which is always a moment to savor.   

We remain grateful that we are healthy, that we have friends on both halves of the earth to lean on, and that we have each other, especially right now in our crazy world.  Be safe, be happy,  and be well.  And if you can find it in yourself to help others do those same things, even better.   

Love to all, thanks to all, and don’t sneeze on the swab lady.  She doesn’t like that.