Tempting the Fates

Sometimes, I tempt the Fates.  Not through bravado.  Usually through stupidity, through not thinking through the consequences of my choices.

As I've discussed before, I more or less glided through my visit to Italy last month, testing negative both before flying to Rome and again before flying home from Milan.  I had endured eighteen months of pandemic, and had apparently escaped contact with the virus.  Two weeks ago, I prudently sought out the flu vaccine.  One week ago, I even more prudently received a Pfizer booster shot for my Covid-19 vaccination.

I seemed to be in great shape.  In great shape, and making choices.

Then, Saturday, I had a couple of sneezing spells, along with a tingling in my throat.  That night, after lying down in bed, I had some coughing, which was easily controlled by a cough suppressant.  My throat continued to feel odd on Sunday and Monday.  I was able to talk myself into imagining a mild headache. 

Some of these symptoms could have been side effects from my booster shot, but not the sneezing.  They all could have been simply signs of a cold.  But sneezing has, in fact, been one of the "breakthrough" symptoms afflicting those vaccinated against Covid-19.  Oh no, I thought, a breakthrough infection just days before my booster would have made me immortal.  Monday, I made an online appointment with a mass testing effort run by a partnership between the University of Washington and the City of Seattle.  Because I claimed I had "symptoms" -- real or imagined -- I was given an appointment just two hours after I applied.

Before I'd really thought this through.  Do I really want to risk a positive test result, despite minimal symptoms, shortly before I'm scheduled to fly to Boston?  My symptoms are so mild as to be ignored in better times.  But, of course, these aren't better times.  

So I go to the campus outdoor field where the tests are being administered.  I was assuming that I'd be given an antigen test, as I had for my Italy travels, with a result within fifteen minutes.  But -- I had "symptoms."  Therefore, I had to be given the far more sensitive PCR test, a test that picks up the slightest presence of the Covid virus.  And, because the lab work is more complex than that for the antigen test, I wouldn't know the result for one to three days.

Even with an appointment, the scene of the testing is crowded and has more the flavor of a county fair than a doctor's appointment.  But the lines move fast, and before I know it I'm given a swab and told to collect my own sample from my own nose.   Which I do.  It tickles a bit, but isn't painful.  

And then I wait.   Why did I do this, I wonder?  I wasn't ill, or close to it.  I didn't need to risk a positive test result, and be forced to stay in my house for ten days while feeling in perfect health.  Possibly risk my planned trip to Boston.

This morning, I receive a text telling me that my result is available.  I go on-line, using a secret code they provide me, and pull up a page.  The result:  "None detected."  "None" being no viruses, I surmise.  I read further, and am assured that this is a "negative" result.

I'm relieved, but I feel that I unnecessarily tempted fate.  The three Greek goddesses, the three Fates, continue weaving at their looms.  They smile gently at me and wink.  

They let me get away with it this time.