November 29, 2020
I write the below not because this experience is unique, but because in 2020 it is common. I think, maybe hope, we will forget how much details of news conferences could upend our days or weeks in 2020. I’m recording this to remember.
Sitting opposite each other at our dining table, both me and my partner’s phones notify us that the daily cov-19 press conference is starting. Her stream is running a second before mine, so I turn mine off and we both watch on her phone, placed on its side half-way between us and off to one side.
As Professor Nicola Spurrier starts to speak, I use my phone to look around twitter and facebook to see if I can find any breaking news as or before it we get it from Prof Spurrier’s mouth. Her tone today is quite serious and stern.
“New locations announced” I relay to my partner, trying time my interjections in Prof Spurrier’s pauses.
“On The Run, Hilton. Anaconda, Mile End” I continue.
Then we hear Prof Spurrier mention Big W Brickworks. I grab a pen and jot down the details. Sunday 22nd, 1:15- 12:50. I write it down even though it doesn’t make sense. We later find the correct details on the SA Health facebook page, Spurrier meant to say 12:15–12:50.
We listen for a second more to see if there’s anything else pertinent to us.
We turn off the stream well before it has ended and start looking at our calendars.
Sunday the 22nd was the first day out of the state-wide, very harsh, lockdown. What could have been scenes of the whole of Adelaide celebrating the end of the three-day lockdown in parks and homes (the latter with a maximum of 10 people) was spoiled by some pretty average weather. We didn’t go out much that day.
The Brickworks is our regular shopping location. One of us would usually go there every second day, either to the Woolworths or to “Tony and Marks”, a great fresh fruiterer. We rarely, but occasionally go to the Big W. But had we went to the Brickworks on that day?
Yes.
Feeling lazy and feeling free, we went to Zambreros at the Brickworks for lunch, before going to Bunnings Mile End to get some supplies for a DIY project at home.
Looking back, I’m glad we wore masks most of the time (except while eating our burritos) and we chose to sit outside while we ate. Although I do remember being alarmed at how few people were wearing masks in Bunnings and how close some people were getting to others.
For those not aware of the layout of the Brickworks shopping centre, Big W is at the very opposite end of the building. But we were there at around the right (or wrong) time.
Realising we were close to the wrong place at the wrong time, we made a game plan.
We’d don masks, do a quick shop at Woolworths, and see if we could get a covid test at the pop-up testing facility Prof Spurrier said would be operational this afternoon. It was not clear what time that station would open, nor was the location that clear, only that it would be “at the Big W”.
After doing a brief shop in our masks (our fridge was very empty), we wondered down to the entrance of the Big W and saw no sign of a testing station.
It was about an hour since the press conference, so we were not surprised that SA Health weren’t yet on site yet. The only thing worth noting was the journalist and cameraman quizzing people as they entered or exited the building. We walked quickly past him and back to the car.
We then drove to the next nearest testing site listed on the SA Health website, privately run Clinpath Pathology on James Congdon Drive in Mile End. A staff member getting into her car near the entrance informed us that the testing site closed at 1pm, about 20 minutes ago. So we drove on to the testing site at the Wayville Showgrounds.
This was a mostly uneventful affair, clear signage, friendly staffing, a socially distanced line, and clear kind instructions.
We overheard that a few others had taken similar routes to get a test that day. First Brickworks, then Clinpath, then Showgrounds. Later it was clarified that the pop-up testing station would be hosted in the Thebarton Community Centre and was operational from about 4pm.
“Do you have a drivers licence. If you do, please get it out but don’t put it on the table.”
“And do you have a Medicare card?”
“Why did you come in for a test today?”
The man waiting next to me, 2 meters to my left, confesses to me that he’s a bit nervous. I admit that I am a bit too, but reassure him that it wouldn’t be a complete 2020 experience with at least one covid test. Friends of mine, in Melbourne and elsewhere, have had upwards of 3 tests.
There’s a man assisting the nurse. He confirms my name, address, date of birth, and phone number. I’m not sure who he is, but he is wearing blue camouflage pants and large boots, so I assume he’s from the ADF. After the text he gives me very clear instructions to go home and wait for results. And to self-isolate until I do. I think of Gladys. He says the results, if negative, should be texted to me within 48 hours, but they were averaging around 28 hours at the moment. If the results are positive they call you. Later, back in the car I start a 28 hour countdown timer.
My partner and I later discuss which part is worse, down the throat or up the nose. We wonder how many millimetres the swap actually gets to the brain and why the swap couldn’t have been just a little bit rounded on the end. The test itself is unpleasant, but much more pleasant wondering if I had unintentionally infected others, friends, family, colleagues.
The rest of the day is uneventful. We do a quiz with friends via zoom, we tidy the house, we make dinner, we watch the final episode of the season of The Crown, we go to bed.
At around 9am the next day, we both receive the text. The word negative is in all caps.
