Hello, fellow pandemicians:
Sorry this newsletter is late. Every year at this time, me and 65 of my closest friends rent a house and we go there from Boxing Day to New Year’s Day and it is my favorite week of the year. And this year we all decided we would try it despite the pandemic—for 2020 we did the whole thing online with various VR rooms which was bizarre and fancy— so we rented a huge inn and kicked out the owners for the week and as an added precaution we got more than 200 home-tests so that everyone could be tested every day. We all got vaxxed and boosted (those who were eligible) and this morning each household took at-home tests so that we could arrive clear.
So while waiting for the stupid at-home pregnancy… I mean, Covid test lines to show up or not show up, I remembered being 13. There was a chicken pox plague in my school and every single pimple was a possible rash.
Backstory: I wasn’t allowed to spend the night at other kids’ houses when I was 13-16. No sleepovers. I think my mom was trying to make sure we didn’t slip out windows or something, but the professed reason was always “you have a perfectly good bed at home.” Airtight logic.
The one sleepover I was allowed was to my next door neighbor’s birthday slumber party. I lived for February 24th every year.
Well, as luck would have it, that year, I woke with the chicken pox rash on the morning of Feb 18. the rash went away Feb 23 but of course, I wasn’t allowed to go to the sleepover because I might still be contagious. Little teen me was devastated. I felt fine, but it was my job to keep them all safe just in case.
So that’s pretty much how I also felt now that the rest of my family had negative Covid tests and mine came out positive. I stared at the stupid double line like it could bite me. I put on a coat and took my (was it?) slightly runny nose outside to one of the instant test sites and stood there with everyone else who had a cough, a fever, a scratchy throat, or an impending flight.
I waited about an hour in the cold (not as cold as it was on Dec 23rd which was the last time I got a negative test here) — and I was sorry to see the pretty French doctor/scientist was alone. She’s nice, but gets impatient with people (oh so many of them) who don’t listen or don’t follow directions. We know each other now, given my daughter’s two previous negative tests and mine, all this week…
But around 4pm, swabbed and done. I get beckoned to the far side of the clear tent. “Sorry,” she says, “You’re positive.”
She has a strong French accent so that her kindness feels like being included as a bit part in a touching holiday-themed art film. “Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “Quite a few of these are happening now. It will pass. Maybe without even symptoms. Come back tomorrow for another test.”
Because it could be wrong?
“Sorry, no,” she said, (again—with mythical levels of compassion) “The antigen tests are pretty accurate.”
So anyway. I won’t be going to the big New Year’s party and neither will anyone in my family. I’m totally fine - now it’s been hours after the test and I still have no symptoms other than the slightest runny nose which comes and goes, seemingly contingent on how sorry for myself I feel, so it could be lachrymal and not sinusitis related. A week ago I had a weird night where I thought I might have a mild fever, and that prompted a Covid test but that one was negative: both antigen and PCR. But this time, nothing. No symptoms to tip me off. Routine. Like people who discover cancers while doing mundane things.
Anyway - thought you’d like to know that you now personally know of at least one person who actively has the virus. Questionably interesting. But that’s kind of it for this week for me. Hope you all have better weeks than me.
Sorry you have to miss the big week!
oh no! Well, you'll have to celebrate twice in 2022!