Testing times.

 In one of my volunteer roles, I was asked to volunteer to shove a very long stick up my nose after sticking the same stick a very long way into my throat.

Although I could see absolutely no point in discovering that on one particular day I didn't seem to have the Covid 19 virus, I went to the test centre to be checked. 

Some years ago a very kind young man gave me an iphone5S which is sill going strong. Alas it's not going strong enough to photograph a QR code and send the information to the relevant authorities. I typed in an extremely long number and my details and was ready for part two of the process. Perched on top of a paper bowl was a long sinister looking pole which was far too long to actually fit into the bowl. Balancing it carefully, along with the tissue and four stickers with bar codes, I made my way to the poling booth. Instructions for the procedure were taped to the makeshift cubicle wall, along with a piece of tin foil so I could see my tonsils. With a freshly blown nose and freshly gelled hands I tore the swab stick carefully out of its wrapper and approached the tin foil with my mouth wide open ready to tickle my tonsils. I was doing fine until I read "Do not touch your tongue, teeth or cheeks with the stick or the test will be invalid." Before that I had been utterly confident I could swab my tonsils, but I suddenly felt as if I was taking part in that game where you have to put a metal loop all the way along a bendy metal wire without making the buzzer sound by touching the wire. My hand shook as I reached past the silver and grey amalgam that makes up most of my teeth. I reached the aforementioned tonsils and touched them gently. The instructions required me to do more than touch them gently, so having steadied my hand, I wiped the tonsils three times with the stick. I didn't gag and felt pretty pleased. Extracting the stick without touching the sides required more dexterity but no buzzer went off.

Next for the nostril. I was to put the stick up my nose until I felt some resistance and then twirl the stick 5 times. It didn't say not to touch the sides but I believe I managed a pretty clean insertion. The stick kept going up, and up and up. There was no resistance. I looked at the top of my head in the tin foil, expecting to see the stick poking out. There was no sign of it. Readjusting my grip in order to facilitate an extended length, I continued to shove. Just as I was running out of stick I hit resistance. I twirled the stick and removed it from my nose. My eyes were watering profusely. That's when I recalled the 5 twirls edict. I couldn't face another adventurous journey up my right nostril so I began to feed the stick up my left nostril. Again I used almost the entire stick before it came to a stand still and I was able to twirl it the required number of times. By now the tears were overflowing.

Another test of dexterity and accuracy was putting the swab into a tiny tube held by a man hidden behind the screen. "Got it" he exclaimed, as I plunged the stick into the tiny receptacle, somewhat hindered by the tears.

I sat in my car for half an hour and waited for the phone to ping.  "Your coronavirus test result is negative. It's likely you were not infectious when the test was done" (I imagine the contraction of "it's" rather than "it is" was supposed to sound friendly and informal.)

Well thank you testing centre. I can now go about my business knowing that I am at risk of  catching coronavirus because there's about a 60% chance that the test has proved I don't currently have it.

There have been many tests during lockdown, not all of them have required a stick up my nose but several of them have reduced me to tears. 

Psalm 56 reassures me that God has been with me through all the restrictions and all the frustrations. "You keep track of all my sorrows, you have collected all my tears in your bottle, you have recorded each one in your book." 

I have a lot to be thankful for.