Earlier this week, I was fortunate enough to become one of the 600+ “suspected” cases of H1N1 flu here on campus. After self-diagnosing myself with some sort of sinus infection, I figured it would be best to head over to Longest Student Health Center to get a professional consultation.
Upon leaving the center, I found myself in worse shape than when I entered. No, it wasn’t my symptoms progressing, but, in reality, a severe beat-down to my ego.
You see, I always think a trip to the doctor’s office is needed when my immune system is without defense, but apparently it was my confidence which needed a shield.
I entered the building and was quickly given a mask to make sure my germs would not spread. While this may not be the next “it” accessory, I can understand the reasoning behind it, so I sat down and tried to see how I looked in the reflection of my phone. Sadly, I don’t think the “Grey’s Anatomy” casting director will be calling me any time soon.
I was quickly called to the back, where I met a nurse who took me to a side room to take my vitals and listen to my symptoms.
By now, my mask had continued to slip down my larger-than-average nose, and every time I took a breath, it fogged up my glasses. Not knowing the seriousness of this mask, I gave up on it actually fitting and let it fall below my nose. Big mistake.
“You’re going to have to put that over your nose,” she snapped at me the second it slipped out.
I had no idea my congested nostril air could put forth the flu virus so quickly. Not wanting to send Miss Sunshine into a tizzy, I fell in line like a freshman during a hazing ritual.
Of course her next statement was, “Lower your mask so I can take your temperature.”
For a split second, I almost asked if she was going to leave the room so I could expose my lips, but she did not seem like the type to enjoy humor.
I told her about my congestion and how I had a body temperature of 99.7 the night before, and that was all she needed to hear. Never mind I had little to no voice and my throat was on fire – I had the flu, and I needed blood work.
She rushed me out of the room so I could get a blood test, and I was no longer her concern. She showed her care by then jumping online and making a personal phone call to her insurance company. Apparently, they put the wrong county on her membership card. Those pesky insurance companies, they don’t pay attention to a thing!
Meanwhile, I was taken to another room to meet the nurse practitioner. Here, I thought I would be able to tell my whole story and finally get to the root of all this flu nonsense, but I was wrong again.
After listening to me for about 20 seconds, she automatically knew it was the flu. Never mind the lack of regular fever, body aches or weakness that’s normally associated with it – she knew that’s what I had.
Since I had been suffering these symptoms since Friday, I was really up a creek without a paddle. She handed me a piece of paper and read word for word how Tamiflu only works when taken within the first 48 hours. Apparently everyone knows this, and I am pretty stupid for letting this time frame evaporate along with my chances of living.
While this happened, my mask continued to slip off my nose, but I was not about to get chastised again for letting it drop. I tried to adjust it but was unaware of the judgment I was about to receive.
“You just contaminated your hand,” she said with disgust while running to the hand sanitizer.
She lathered my hands while trying to keep a good distance from me, making sure not to catch the 21st century version of leprosy.
Once my hands were finally cleansed, we could continue the check up.
She had me pull my mask down – with my hands – and took a look at my mouth for a split second. Nothing to see there besides the ruby red tonsils and mucus clinging to my adenoid – you know, normal flu-like stuff.
I quickly replaced the mask so not to have another dramatic episode, but I could feel it already beginning to slip.
“Pull up your mask,” she said. “No, pull it up more. I shouldn’t see any part of your nose. No, more. No.”
By then, she had enough. She left the room without notice and was gone for over a minute. I began to wonder if I should leave due to my misbehavior. I know I didn’t attend preschool as a child, but maybe I missed the part about how to wear masks.
She came back with mask in hand and began to give me a tutorial on the basics of medical facial coverings. Apparently, I didn’t clamp hard enough on the nose wire.
Nonetheless, my one-on-one lesson was actually longer than my medical exam.
After getting the serious stuff out of the way, she printed out a piece of paper with all I need to know about the flu. Her speech slowed down considerably, and she began to repeat everything a total of three times to ensure I understood. Besides my lack of actual flu symptoms, being dumb is a likely side effect of the flu; at least that’s how she understood the virus.
By then, I realized she had not even made eye contact with me for the entire five-minute visit. It’s almost as if she was following a script, and the last thing on her mind was not my welfare but what the cafeteria was serving for lunch.
As I got up to leave the room, she suddenly stopped me.
“Hey, did I even listen to your chest?” she asked. “I think I did.”
You see, if you know mask etiquette, then there’s no need to bother with proper medical procedure.
If ever you’re in the need of a nice reality check, visit the health center with the flu. On second thought, maybe it’s these staff members who deserve to wear the masks. I would hate to catch their attitude or work ethic.
Patrick Young is a senior majoring in communication. He can be contacted at [email protected].