COVID-19 test new drive-up experience

You are not going to lose any brain tissue. Let’s just put that rumor to rest.

The test for COVID-19 has developed a reputation as an experience involving an item resembling a baseball bat that a person in a scary suit sticks all the way into your nose, possibly dislodging some gray matter along the way.

As Theresa Arndt — the cheerful technician at the Prevea Clinic in Shawano — was eager to demonstrate last week, the actual experience is fast. It’s not threatening and, if not exactly comfortable, is also not painful.

“I tell people we are after boogers, not brains,” she said.

It’s also important to do: to make sure someone who has the virus receives the right care and stays home to avoid sharing it with others.

Prevea and other health care providers are offering appointment-based drive-in or drive-through testing options for members of the public who have been exposed to COVID-19 or have symptoms.

Prevea set up a demonstration and allowed me to document the experience, presumably to assure the public if the world’s biggest chicken, medically speaking, could handle the test, anyone can.

The process starts with pre-registration, as all regular tests in the area are by appointment.

I signed up on MYPREVEA, pulled into a designated parking spot, registered with my cell phone and rolled down the window. Considering what usually has to get rolled down for medical tests, this was a pretty easy start.

Arndt came out in a blue protective suit, with blue gloves and printed post-test information.

She held a sealed test kit and extracted a swab that looked like an XXL Q-Tip.

I asked her — possibly a bit suspiciously — how far the stick would go. Not as far as it had in the past, she said.

Unlike earlier tests, which required a sample from far back in the nasal cavity, the current tests only require four turns around the lower part of each nostril with the cottony end of the stick.

She smiled, which you could see even through her substantial mask.

And extended her hand toward my face.

There are not many things to compare the sensation to. It didn’t sting. There was no “little poke” or pressure. It didn’t scrape, shred or tickle. I didn’t feel compelled to blow it out. It didn’t feel great — it felt like something was there that didn’t belong. Like a stick. In your nose. But, that’s it.

It made my eyes water a little, probably because I did not want to see the stick approaching and glued them as tightly shut as I could. (You know, the whole world’s biggest chicken thing.)

Four swipes — an extra half swipe in one nostril and that was it. It took more time to roll the window up and down.

She placed the specimen in a container and went back to the building to change her gloves, get coated in hand sanitizer and get ready for the next patient.

I backed out of the parking spot, brain intact.

What I was not able to document was the anxiety that someone may feel when they drive away from the test site. I am always concerned about working with the public, but that’s not the same as someone who is afraid that they have shared the virus with someone close or vulnerable.

As I was leaving, a car pulled into the next spot with two people in it. I didn’t see them, but I heard them say they needed two tests. They sounded a bit nervous. I could only wish them the best, and now, can wish for them the same results as mine — negative.

Carol Ryczek is the editor-in-chief of NEW Media. Readers can contact her at cryczek@newmedia-wi.com

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