COVID Conundrum

       We were in the middle of the song.  It was about 8:30 p.m.  The phone rang.  I reached in my pocket and tried to mute it.  That failed so I opened it and closed it.  That stops the ringing and hangs up on the caller when you do that with a flip phone, in case you smart phone folks have forgotten.

      I promptly forgot about it.   A few minutes after 9, the phone rang again.  This time I answered.  It was the daughter telling me that the granddaughter had tested positive for COVID that afternoon.  Ouch!

      It was Tuesday.  We had been there the previous Friday and Saturday, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to celebrate Granddaughter’s fifth birthday and Christmas.  We likely had been exposed.

      And now, I may have exposed eight other old guys to the insidious disease.  I felt bad, but not bad enough to cancel my trip to the bar.  I did wear a mask into the place.

     We were headed for the farm on the next day, Wednesday, and on to a funeral in Burlington on Thursday.  What should I do?

      The first thing I did on Wednesday morning was email the eight guys I had sung with on Tuesday and told them the situation.  I decided to carry on with the funeral plans.  Neither of us felt bad or had any symptoms.

      We had made arrangements with a farm neighbor to ride together to Burlington.  I called him and explained the situation, thinking he may not want to ride in a car for two hours with two possibly infectious people. 

       Neighbor was not too concerned.  I asked him where we might get a test.  He thought to contact the drugstore.  They referred me to the county health nurse.

      At about 3 o’clock, I put in a call to the Lincoln County nurse and explained to her the situation and emphasized that I was supposed to go to a funeral the next day.  She understood.  Come on down, she said.  We will test you twice.

       It wasn’t until later that week that I realized how lucky we were to get right in for testing when all around the state and the nation, people were standing and sitting in cars in long lines waiting to get tested. 

      We arrived just before 4 p.m.  We got the rapid test within five minutes.  Then we were referred next office over where two ladies with the state were doing a more accurate test.  We had to give them a lot of info, including our email addresses.  We both got emails with instructions on how to set up an account, complete with password, so that we could get our test results.

    By the time we had filled out all the information required by the state and got our noses swabbed, the rapid test was nearly done.  We were asked to wait in the car since there were several other people in the office, most getting shots.  We hadn’t been in the car more than two or three minutes when the young lady came out to tell us we both tested negative on the rapid test. 

      The “state” ladies told us we would probably have results for the more accurate test before 10 a.m. tomorrow.  When we got back to the farm, I set up an account as instructed in the email I had received.

      About 6:30 a.m. on Thursday, I was reading my email.  Just before 7:00, I got an email saying my results were available.  I signed in and found the state test had confirmed the rapid test.  We were negative for COVID.

     I took a minute or two to follow up my Wednesday email to my fellow old-guy singers to tell them I had tested negative on both tests.  Then we were off to the funeral. 

      The funeral was at 10:30, but we were asked t be there by 9:30 if we could be.  So we left before 8 and arrived before 9:30.

      We wore our masks during the funeral just in case we should be “late developers”.  Still, it is impossible to wear a mask and take part in a funeral dinner.  Nor did we wear masks in the car.  Conclusion:  It is pretty much impossible to avoid all contact with other folk that might result in spreading the virus.

      Two weeks after possible exposure, we are still healthy and happy, no symptoms. 

 

     Footnote:  COVID has been disastrous for the singing community.  Many of our guys refuse to wear masks to sing.  Others will not attend a meeting if we do NOT wear masks to sing.  Result, our attendance is way down.

     One of the guys who had laid out for nearly two years just started coming back three weeks ago.  He was one whom I had to contact with the news I may have been exposed.  He decided he would stop attending again until things settle down.

     He also admitted that his wife feared he would catch the disease by singing with us and bring it home to her.  I think that is the case with some others, too. 

     I am hopeful that the Omicron version of the disease will, in the end, be a Godsend.  That will be the case if enough folks catch it, suffer through it, survive and become immune to the more deadly varieties of the virus.  Let us hope.

      In the end, I do not want to be “Typhoid Mary”.  I am trying to behave myself, wearing a mask in public places, keeping my distance from others, the whole bit.

     But I still don’t wear a mask to sing.