I felt as if I was a SARS patient or had cholera. Something like that.
Even the baby was judging me, which I don’t appreciate at all, you fucking chin drooler. I know you carry around all sorts if germs and I don’t like you haughty condescension, holier than thou infant.
Sorry, I guess the codeine is running away with me.
The whole point of this story is explain how they test for pertussis. And thus my true plight begins.
The doctor (Who on his business card did not say doctor so he may have been an imposter with a very strange fetish for all I know.) came in and asked me to sit on the examination table, as he would be performing a nasopharyngeal swab. A what, you ask? Just wait…He warned the test would be slightly uncomfortable. And then he pulls out a ten inch wire with a Q-tip on the end. I’m sorry did you not hear me?
A FUCKING TEN INCH WIRE!
He makes me look up and jams the wire up my nose, through my sinuses, to scrape up the remnants on my spinal fluid. or something. It hurt so bad i cried and very nearly vomited on him. (An act I had not done since I was fourteen and the dentist gave me too much nitrous oxide. He deserved it though, he had pedophile eyes.) I gritted my teeth and dug my fingernails into the cushion, begging for it to be over.
Three years later, the doctor (or whatever) pulled out the wire and sent me on my way.
Fuck you Pertussis. And the bacterium you rode in on.