I always figured that I would spend eternity as another statistic. My money was on heart attack. When I was told to come in for covid testing I couldn't help but laugh. I get gassed if I go upstairs to my room too fast. I wouldn't stand a chance in hell if I caught this virus.
Due to the nature of my job, I came into close contact with a gentleman that later was confirmed to have coronavirus. Couple of days later, I had the hot shits, one vomit (weird, I know), a cough, and a slight fever. I figured it was the repercussions of being my father's guinea pig while he figures out how to cook. When my day off was up, I called my doctor and let him know what was going on. I didn't think I had it. My plan was to get him to verbally sign off on me going back to work. I figured if I was questioned about coming in when I didn't feel well I could say, "My doctor said it was cool". He didn't say it was cool. He told me to come in within the hour to get tested.
I was instructed to park in the fire zone and wait for the doctor when I arrived. Apparently arson isn't of much concern during this pandemic. My doctor came out geared the fuck up. I was pretty jacked for him, he looked diesel. I like my doctor, he's kind of dick. I think he negs me to get healthy? It hasn't worked but I truly appreciate the unprofessional humor. I informed my doctor that I had a bloody nose this morning and that I didn't know if that would screw up his testing method. I had seen the nasal tests on Twitter that looked like Tarantino torture scenes. He told me he was orally testing me, what a relief. That Q-Tip went farther back than I thought possible and overstayed it's welcome by about ten seconds. I gagged like a dirty w word. Doc told me he'd call me in a day or two and left me in my car teary eyes. They never call.
Did I write a blog titled "Getting Coronavirus Would Be Pretty Dope" on March 10th? Might've. In my defense, my argument behind it was that I could be locked in a room and just bet sports the whole time. Ah to be young and naive again. I kept up the whole making jokes about it after I was tested. I was pretty confident I didn't have it, and then I watched the news.
If there is one thing you take away from this blog make sure it's this: Do not watch the news if you think there's any chance you've caught the virus. As ESPN has so kindly reminded us these last two days, death sells. Every statistic, every heartbreaking account, every second of the news terrifies a potential patient. The story that kicked me right in the heart balls was about a nurse who had agreed to let a wife FaceTime her comatose husband. By the time the nurse had gotten to the room the patient had died from covid complications and had to call the wife back to deliver the news. When the wife found out, she asked if she could still FaceTime her husband to say goodbye. Fuuuuuuuck. After that I started to sweat this thing.
I'm sorry to all the families going through tragedy from this mess. Really, I am. But it won't be my family, not yet anyway. My results came back negative and I was back to work two days after being tested. Truth be told, it went to my head. I took a piss after I found out I didn't have it and didn't even was my hands. I couldn't infect anybody, so I let my hair down a bit. I'm back now though. I got a breath of freedom but I've returned to masks, sweaty gloves, and over-washing my hands. They had us in the first half I'm not gonna lie, but turns out I'm healthy as an ox. Cardiac arrest back on top at -110.
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