GET OUT
Dylan is back from Texas, a coronavirus hot-spot, where he did nothing except to visit his girlfriend.
He stayed inside his girlfriend’s house or went outside into isolated areas. Other than the airports, Dylan spent time with his girlfriend and her family – and they self-quarantined for two weeks before his arrival, just to be safe.
Still, I insisted he get a test, so that we could determine he was “safe” and allow him near his grandparents if the need arose.
So I sent him to our local church, where his appointment was set for 3:30-4:00. After I made the appointment, that time option disappeared – which, I erroneously thought, meant that was a time just for Dylan to be tested. I thought it would be Dylan and the tester.
And – again erroneously – I believed he’d be in a drive-through in the church’s giant parking lot, since that’s what I’ve seen on TV.
But no.
The church was packed with people. While masks were required, the place was teeming with people of all ages – some with symptoms, some without. The workers were running amok between them.
Dylan said there were hundreds of people. And while there were markers on the floor for social distancing, some of those markers held 10 people on one spot.
And my baby was standing in the middle of the chaos, wearing a semi-casual mask (not the N95 he wore on the plane). He texted me:
I’m more likely to get it here tbh
He’d been there awhile before he started texting me, but after maybe a minute of my understanding the situation, I texted back:
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
(I was reminded of the horror movie – and it was a fair comparison, I think.)
should I really just leave
YES
how do I do that I’m still in line
GET OUT OF LINE. JUST GO.
ok
RUN
Dylan got out of line, went out to the parking lot, got in his car – utterly untested – and left.
Now he’s added another two weeks of waiting to see if he got the virus – and this time, it’s because the testing area was such a mess.
He was better off in Texas.