Two Good Things: A & B

In an effort to not seek an early demise from this seemingly meaningless existence I live lately, I decided to volunteer for the local Ronald McDonald House. Thanks to those of you who I'm sure gave me stunning personal references (of which I'm sure they diligently called and asked about right?) which enabled me to become a volunteer...pending the TB test.

I met the manager on Monday morning and he walked me to the bowels of the hospital where occupational health is located. A large southern woman asked me if I had had a TB test before of which I answered, "No." (Should I have? Has anyone else? We don't have TB in the NW. It's only along the border I thought.) She diligently told me it would "pinch" and then quickly slapped a Band-Aid on over a spot that didn't show any sign of trauma telling me to "leave it on for 30 minutes."

Being the good patient I am, I promptly took it off as soon as I got home (2 minutes or so) and didn't think another thing about it. I don't know anyone who has had TB so why should I be worried?

That night, I started noticing a little bit of redness to my arm. That night I asked my medical husband to take a look at it. He scoffed and said, "No. You don't have TB." Thanks.

The next day the red spot got larger and more noticeable. That night before bed I mentioned again to my loving husband that my arm was red and showed it to him while I was brushing my teeth. I said, "Does yours do this when you get a TB shot?" He said, "No."

Great. I laid in bed trying to fall asleep that night while still trying to figure out where I would have picked up TB and what they were going to do about it. I was coughing a few days ago after my run. Was that blood in my mouth after I was coughing? I started listing off the countries I've been where I could have picked up TB Australia? Germany? France? Belize? New Guinea? Yes! It was New Guinea. It had to be. I'm sure they have TB there. I wasn't able to sleep so I pulled out my computer and started googling pictures of positive TB tests all the while comparing my arm (in the dark laying next to my sleeping husband who emphatically insisted that I did not have TB before rolling over and going to sleep calmly, not even worried that I was coughing up blood, or at least that I said I was coughing up blood in attempt to get him to actually look at my arm) with the pictures on the screen. Yep, it looked exactly like this picture. I have TB. What now?

The night came and went and I took a break from work in the mid morning to rush over to the hospital to have them verify the results that I already knew were coming.

I again met the manager for RMH and he again took me down the long, uncomfortably silent walk down the corridors of the hospital to occupational health. So long RMH. Too bad I have TB so now I can't even volunteer to try and put some meaning into my life. I walked in, signed my name, and they immediately sent me back to an empty chair to have my TB test read.

A black lady came in and sat down talking the entire time of which I caught very few words of what she was actually saying. She said something about children and I assumed she was asking if I was working with kids. I said, "Yes." Then when she found my form in the file she said, "Ohh...The Ronald McDonald House." Yes. Isn't this what she just asked me? I'll never know.

Then without looking up from the form, she reached out, touched my arm in the general area of where the test was given, and immediately wrote down 0mm neg. Negative? I don't have TB?? But, she didn't even LOOK at it? How can this be?

I breathed deeply being greatly relieved at the negative results (although maybe I do have TB since she didn't actually look at the test) and asked forgiveness of the nationals in New Guinea for inviting me to spend time in their homes and in return I blame them for giving me a debilitating disease. Oops.

I guess the good news out of all of this is: A) I don't have TB. And B) I have a very calm and intelligent husband.