PCR test alternative

 This blog post heralds the invention of a new Covid 19 test which is quicker and slightly less unpleasant than the polymerase chain reaction test.

Anyone trying this cake who has any sense of taste or smell will immediately spit it out and make noises indicating there is nothing wrong with their ability to taste.  I think it will be much cheaper than the test where you shove a stick up your nose and down your throat. The results are immediate and pretty conclusive. Like the PCR test it will not definitely tell you whether you do or do not have Coronavirus, but it will be pretty evident that your sense of taste is alive and well and fully rejecting kidney bean chocolate cake.

The process of developing the test cake was somewhat arduous as anyone who has tried to whisk kidney beans with one of these will tell you. 

The beans shoot out between the blades like bullets from a gun. In the end I had to trap them against the whisk with a spoon before they would mosh into the requisite smooth mixture along with the cocoa, eggs and vanilla essence. Maybe when it said "use a blender" it meant use a blender.

I have tried the test on several healthy people and one with a comorbidity which prompted the experimental recipe. I am pleased to say none of them were in any doubt that it was the worst cake they had ever tasted and they only needed one very small sample, which makes the test quite economical, as one cake will test about 70 people. Feedback also indicated the cake was very moist.

Adendum: The blogger takes no responsibility for anything she writes in her blogs.

 

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.

Being allowed out.

After weeks of being locked in my house due the dangers of a global virus, I was invited to attend a socially distanced meeting. I felt pretty excited to see real people even if it was across a 2 metre gap.
I forgot how long it took to shower and wash my hair so when I noticed that my only ironed dress had a tear in it, I figured I didn't have time to change it or sew it up.  In a flash of inspiration I decided I could put a bit of  'iron on' hemming tape behind the rip and from a distance of over six feet, nobody would be any the wiser. I quickly heated the iron and successfully stuck my dress to the ironing board cover. Ripping the two fabrics apart and deciding that employing a needle and thread in the toilets at the meeting would be my next best option, I headed for the door. That's when I remembered that I needed to take a packed lunch. I hurriedly yanked open the fridge door, whereupon, an opened tin of chopped tomatoes threw itself from the top shelf of the fridge to the quarry tiled floor, splashing all over my legs, feet and freshly un-mended dress. After a speedy dishcloth wipe I jumped into the car and set off to the meeting. That's when I discovered that I had been at home for so long, I no longer remembered the way to anywhere. Staggered entry was all the rage at that time, so I when I arrived ten minutes late, I just pretended I was showing concern for the well-being of others.
One of the key reasons Jesus came, is to proclaim freedom to the captives. It's not always easy to get used to being free when you've been locked up for a while but Jesus accompanies you on your journey and assures you that liberty is good news.

Coronavirus

Keeping things at arms length is quite popular at the moment.
The new hairdryer at my leisure club is joining the trend.
The very springy wire to which the device is attached is particularly short and strong. In order to dry your hair it is necessary to sit down and bend forwards. There is another problem with the dryer which I discovered when I sat down and bent forwards, it is an inordinately long hairdryer for a person with inordinately short arms. With my elbow positioned at the normal 90 degree bent arm angle, there is not enough room to fit the hairdryer between my hand and my head. Extending my arm to make room for the whole hairdryer meant that I had to extend the short springy wire to its maximum tension. This required prolonged muscle strength which I haven't swung dumbbells long enough to acquire. Smashing a hairdryer into your head with the inertia of a coiled spring, hurts more than you'd think.
A verse from the Bible came to mind as I walked to the car with wet hair. I know it in the old fashioned version "God's arm is not shortened that it cannot save, nor his ear heavy that it cannot hear." In the midst of the viral panic, it's something I'm still very confident about.