I had an appointment just before noon. I had to have a Covid-19 test. No, I have had no symptoms, nor am I aware of having been exposed. But I am having a colonoscopy on Monday, which I had to put off because of a medical procedure last year I have written about here, and given, again, that inevitable family history and the fact I have had a polyp in the past, I just didn't feel able to put it off again, nothwithstanding my reluctance to have my nose probed.
I had heard how the Covid-19 test is done, and the idea was stomach turning. At least with the colonoscopy I'll be asleep. But no such luck with the short, but invasive nose test. I tried to put it out of my mind until I was driving into the Thalian Building Garage. I could still run, but, well, I didn't.
On the way, I revelle in the beauty of the day. It was relatively warm. A perfect November California Day. Normally, things would be bustling, but with the newest lockdown here in Los Angeles, and state wide, it was basically a ghost town. I noticed that the Coffee Bean Tea and Leaf on Robertson and Beverly has not survived the second ravage of the economy, which though articulated as not significant compared to the dangers of Covid, we are seeing is killing not only businesses but livelihoods and lives. Not sure, but I think Fig and Olive on La Cienega might be gone. Every store and restaurant along the route was empty and barred, except for take out or delivery service which curfew ends at 10 p.m. A beautiful day, and no place to go, except maybe to your local grocery, pot store, and I did notice that at least one nail salon was open. Inside Church Services have never been restored. And there is no sign of it happening, despite the fact that the Supreme Court told New York that such unequal treatment is problematic. Oh, by the way, I have written twice to my Archdiocese, and have received bupkus as my answer. Whether it is in regard to the state or to the institutional part of the Church, the human part, it is a bit alarming to realize that you are one of the "little people", since they are the ones who are always the first expended in public crises. One need not imagine too hard what it will be when apocalypse is upon us. I don't expect anyone to agree. I am merely, as others do, expressing my "feelings" in what to me is a maddening, insane time.
There was not a long line of cars at the Thalian Building. I assume the others had appointments like I did. I donned my mask. The rule was that you kept your windows up until you presented your identification through the window, something one is required to do pretty much everywhere, except in voting, I note with parenthetical irony. Upon that initial identification I was moved to the next section, where the action would occur. I did think it a little paradoxical that this method of determining whether you are positive or not was occurring in a parking lot. I am not sure how it had previously been sanitized. But there you are. Mine not to question why. I had further identification questions to answer. My date of birth. My full name. When my procedure was going to be. The latter part allowed the opening of the window. Of course, the test itself required it.
The technician was very nice. Presently, everyone is very nice when they tell you what you have to do. She pulled that long q-tip out and told me that she would be putting it up my nose and then there was this slight ten second movement once it was up there (well, given the picture below, it is up, then down) and I should breathe. I could lower my mask to expose my nose, but kept the mask on my mouth. The first effort was not successful, apparently because I had my head tilted back. The sensation had been let's say, unpleasant, and that it would be repeated caused me consternation. I had every inclination to sneeze. I wondered why, given medical technology, the method of testing is so, primitive. And it seems to me that in a garage a lot could go wrong with accuracy and this odd method. I mean, the stick goes, well, you can see!) And around. I found myself tearing up as if I were about to bawl. Truthfully, there is a lot about this time period in our history that makes me want to bawl, so this reflexive response seemed apropos. My eye makeup running and my nose feeling, well, odd, I drove off and back here to lock up.
As I said, it is a beautiful day. So I did my laundry, here in the apartment on my super duper good for a dorm plastic machine, and edited my podcast (Ordinary Old Catholic Me on Podbean.com; also found on Tune In, Pandora). I will make one more quick trip today, to my Church garden where they are still able to do half hour outdoor confessions, for now. I have been very close to blasphemy in these last weeks given all the events in the world at large that are impinging on all of us. I keep hearing we are "all in this together". Alas, what I feel we are in together doesn't have quite the utopian ending that has been promised.
But at least when the apocalypse comes I will be in the sunshine. Unless of course on that day, it finally rains.
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