Alison O'Connor: I had my Covid-19 test and now I feel like the boy who cried wolf

The Covid-19 test is unpleasant, but brief, and mild for anyone who has given birth, says our columnist.  Picture: iStock

The woman in the white mask asked: "Is this your first time?" Seconds later, she plunged what looked like an extra-long Q-Tip down my throat.

It was my first time; my singular experience of having a test for Covid-19. I was anxious, so my memory may be sketchy.

After the throat, she went for the nose, which I knew I was not going to like. A few weeks ago, I’d sat in on a conversation between two elderly relatives, both veterans of the test. They were unanimous on its unpleasantness. One of them had a bleeding nose afterwards.

While I wouldn’t want to have a Covid-19 test every day, I’d describe it as unpleasant but brief. All pain is relative, particularly if you’ve undergone childbirth. Just as I felt myself unable to quell the desire to move back and away from the nasal invasion, the pleasantly efficient tester, said to me: "You’re OK, you’re OK." In seconds, it was all over.

I had arrived at the test centre (in Tallaght Stadium, home to Shamrock Rovers soccer club) a few minutes before the appointed time. I was waved to a stop by a woman wearing a pink Hi-Vis vest with 'Volunteer' written on the back. I rolled down the window and, from a distance, she checked my name, date of birth, and address.

She handed me a clear plastic bag, which had a label that said 'Personal PPE Pack'. She waved me. I sat in a queue of 10 cars, two of them in front me. Some cars had more than one occupant. On the radio, the callers to Liveline were telling the saddest stories of their experiences of the virus: Loved-ones lost, family members working at the front line, the seething, bone-deep anger at the Clifden golf dinner.

I saw one young guy arrive on a bike; a woman arrive on foot. After a few minutes, I was directed in through the gate and around the back of the South Stand. The woman who had walked was there on a seat in front of me, having her test. A man in a Hi-Vis directed me to drive down and stop behind another car. Within a minute or two, there was a third car, just behind me. Beside me, there were doors open to what I’m guessing would normally be a dressing room for a team. A woman, dressed in PPE, came out and handed me a packet of tissues and told me to blow my nose. I opened up my own PPE pack and took out one of the two, massive, black plastic bags inside. Also contained inside were two disposable masks and a leaflet giving advice on the test.

After taking the swabs, the woman advised me I’d be informed of the result by text and to try and isolate until I got the results in a few days' time. As I drove away, I felt relieved it was over. More than 24 hours previously, I had woken with a sore throat and a sniffle. It was nothing major. I’ve had far worse. But when I thought about it, I realised I had not felt as much as a tickle in my throat since long before lockdown.

Being the responsible citizen that I am, I do my daily check-in with the Covid-19 app. It asks: 'How are you feeling today?' There are two answers: 'I’m good, no symptoms'; and 'I’m not feeling well today'. Prior to this, I had always, almost mindlessly, opted for the first sentence, but that morning I hesitated.

While it feels as if I’ve spent the last six months absolutely surrounded by family, this was a rare occasion that I was on my own in the house. I weighed up my options. I also tried to factor in my almost obsessive following (for work purposes) of the Covid-19 situation, not least the NPHET briefings. (I used to watching them daily, but now, blessedly, far less frequently.) 'Don’t delay,' was the voice I could hear in my ear. 'If you feel any symptoms, don’t put it off until tomorrow.' Operating through an out-of-hours GP service, I got a text a few hours later, with the heading, 'SwiftQueue'. It informed me that I had a test the next afternoon at 2.10. Even though my throat was still somewhat sore, I felt silly when I informed my family. One child was clearly worried and the other also, but, in true teenage fashion, was immediately concerned about the possible curbing of activities.

After speaking to a medical friend, who said it was really difficult to actually, truly, work out who should be sent for testing, I did sense I’d been too trigger happy. But it was done by then.

So, we didn’t invite anyone to the house. I did go for a walk in the evening, on a route I knew to be quiet. While I wasn’t interacting with people, my effort to keep things separate at home were not impressive. Having told the children that hugs were not a good idea, they then decided they wanted nothing other than an embrace.

I tried to use separate towels and my hands were back to that raw state they were in at the start of lockdown, because of frequent washing. But try being a mother attempting to keep a low profile in your own house, when no one therin really believes you are sick, including yourself.

I woke the next day with a remaining sniffle, but no sore throat. I felt like a complete eejit. Twenty nine hours after I got the test, the text from HSE Covid 19 stated: 'The HSE would like to confirm that this test did not detect Covid-19'.

On reflection, I can’t help but wonder was I too trigger happy in looking for a test; if you can be such a thing during a pandemic. The problem for me now is — having already sounded the alarm bell once — the next morning that I wake feeling under the weather, I’ll definitely think twice about doing so a second time.

It’s going to be a long winter, as these are the types of decisions we will all face, not just for ourselves, but also our children attending school. For now, though, for a very brief period, I’ll celebrate my Covid-19-free status.