Mother’s column: Hurrying to get tested
PCR test to trace Covid. The author of this article did not have the honour to have a press photographer present during the test. Therefore, this picture is anonymous. Photo ANP, Ramon van Flymen
Christian Life
I drive through the city in a bit of a hurry. According to the text message on my phone, I must be officially there at 11.12 am. It already is, and the traffic light keeps turning red...
Luckily, I can see the cinema from a distance. I have never seen the inside of the building, but that is about to change. Because I have a cold, and the Covid test location is there.
Neline is married and the mother of five: Martha (8), Abel (6), Jolijn (5), Reinout (3) and Sifra (0).
It started a week ago with my daughter Martha. Jan, my husband, went down a few days later, and now it’s me. So, I’m going to get tested on behalf of the whole family. Not that I think we have corona because, in our region, infection rates are still low. But if everyone doesn’t get tested for that reason, the system obviously doesn’t work.
Moreover, we have a family party in a few days. Deliberately outdoors, but even then, you don’t want to turn it into a “super spread event”.
A fireman in a yellow jacket shows me a spot in the car park. “Is it painful, such a test?” I hear one of my fellow sufferers ask him through the open-door window. “That varies,” he says. “Some people find it very unpleasant, but there are also people who say it’s no big deal.” Hmm, it can still go either way.
Fun
After 25 minutes of waiting (there was no need to rush), I could finally get off. “Have fun, the fireman shouts after me. I follow the arrows on the ground, report to a counter, follow more arrows, and then suddenly, there is a nurse in front of me — face mask on, cotton swab at the ready.
First, the swab goes into my throat. Just like that. “Now, I’ll stick it in the back of your nose; just relax.” Well, yes. It seems like she is working on my mucous membrane with a screwdriver. Or with a file. Tears come to my eyes. “I feel some resistance,” she says after pricking for a while. “Let’s see if it works in your other nostril.”
When I finally walk out of the building, I feel like I’ve just been to the dentist. Like: it was awful, but I behaved reasonably well, and I’m off the hook for a while.
But less than four weeks later, a new cold hits our house. Or is it corona this time? For the time being, we are not rid of anything at all.
This column was published previously in the Dutch family magazine Terdege.
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