On Tuesday this week, I woke up with a runny nose. It was completely my fault: I went to bed very late Monday night without having had the heater on during the evening, or at night. Having turned soft by living too many years in Auckland, and the fact my house isn’t the best insulated (doesn’t help I tend to sleep with the window open) I awoke early Tuesday morning with my dodgy air recirculation display panel reading 7 degrees. Given I had been running on empty for the last couple of weeks I developed a runny nose.
Thinking nothing of it I went to work as usual. This was my first mistake.
My runny nose was commented on by multiple people during the day, especially as I was using my used tissues to build a model of Pompeii on my desk (work being one of these places trying to go paperless and having no bins at the desks).
The events of Tuesday night caught me out, after the proclamation by Ms Arden at 9:22 pm (not sure why she can’t be on time) about Auckland moving to level 3. During the following “oh crap” work messages at 9:33 pm (I work for an essential service private company), I was told I had to have the dreaded Wuflu test given that “I was showing signs”.
My first problem was that I had to pick up my laptop from work (I try never to bring work home so why bring the laptop home). It was suggested that I wear a mask, come into work very early giving everyone a wide berth (if anyone was around), collect my laptop and then leave to get a test.
I awoke early the next morning, my running nose a thing now of history, and probably cured by a rather large glass of a 10-year-old Laphroagic scotch from the previous evening. I headed into work. I did this wearing a Camouflage Keffiyeh Scarf.
“I headed into work. I did this wearing a Camouflage Keffiyeh Scarf.”
(Hey, I had nothing else). A couple of people that saw me weren’t that impressed so it was probably a good thing that they couldn’t see the expression on my face. Having collected my laptop I drove home via one of the testing stations that had been set up. The queue put me off so I arranged a test at my GP’s for 12pm that day instead.
Being the courteous person that I am, and trying to fit in with the busy schedule that the GP must be having (I was told the surgery was very busy, but they would accommodate my request for my test after checking I should have one), I arrived 30 minutes before my appointment, sat in my car and phoned the GP. I said that I was ready to have my test when convenient as I didn’t mind waiting. (I had my laptop, was able to work and the car was in a carpark not on the road, like at the testing station).
My second mistake then followed: about 27 minutes later (I was impressed, 3 minutes before my appointment was due, a first for my visits to the surgery which were normally 5 to 20 minutes late), I saw my GP come out of the surgery dressed in PVE holding the test, and approach my parked car.
After some pleasantries, I made a joke that I hoped the test wasn’t like one of his injections (I had experienced one of his injections for tetanus after I had attempted to cut my thumb off in a fishing expedition). In what must have been an act of revenge for my comment I had a plastic stick with a furry thing at the end stuffed up my nose in what I would consider a rather rough manner. Tears streamed down my cheeks as this plastic thing tried to lobotomise me. My doctor then said “this may be unpleasant”; well, no shit sherlock, it was far from unpleasant, it was [redacted due to copious swear words].
After extracting what I could only consider was half my brain, but ended up only being what appeared to be a drop of mucus, he told me to expect the result via text within 24 hours.
On returning home I dutifully told work I had my test, and would have the results within 24 hours (work was very happy).
My 3rd mistake for having the test occurred in the morning on hearing Dr Bloomfield say people who have a positive test will be housed in isolation. Now being serious, if I had known that, I most likely wouldn’t have had the test or made sure that the GP would say that I didn’t need one. There is no way I’m going into an isolation centre unless I feel like I’m dying, I can quarantine by myself quite happily at home thank you very much. I don’t do prison!
I’m writing this and it’s 8:30pm the following day, 33 hours and 30 minutes after my test and still no result. I phoned the GP at 4:30pm this afternoon to check, and no they hadn’t had them either but said that the MoH would text me. My response was “well I’ll guess I’ll be waiting a long time further then, and can put the 24 hour notice period down as another Coalition failure to deliver.” This was met with a subdued and almost hidden laugh.
What has been done in the past 100 days to prepare for another outbreak? If they can’t organise for an increase of tests to process what else have they forgotten?
I eventually got my negative result back at 7:30pm, 55 hours and 30 minutes after I took the test. So much for preparing for the second wave.
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