About six months ago we volunteered for a study from Johns Hopkins. All four of us: my wife, my two daughters, and me. We had to talk the kids into it, starting first with an appeal to pride in helping humanity out in some small way, then citing the novelty of being active participants in science, and finally, bribing them with candy.
The study included three blood draws, monthly oral swabs, and tragically, weekly nasal swabs. On all four of us. Remember how at the beginning of the pandemic people whined about how getting a covid test felt like “having your brain poked?” We’ve been doing that shit for months.
Honestly, the worst part wasn’t the poke. It was that we all kept acting like we didn’t have to do it again. Every week it pops up in the calendar and literally every time we’ve been like, “Oh shit, we have to do what? Right now? Nothing could prepare me for this!”
But not anymore. This week marks our final swab. The kids are getting a celebratory video game out of it, and I get to go back to forgetting about it each week without consequence.