Prior to my 7 AM admission for surgery today I was advised of the requirement for a negative RAT result upon arrival. Acute awareness of this checkpoint has led to forty-eight hours of pre-admission anxiety about every throat tickle, moment of fatigue and headache (reduction of caffeine intake explains that last one).
Part of the reason the RAT felt stressful was because the hospital is far from my house, and I had to take a taxi there. Not only would a positive test delay my surgery and recovery plans, it would also cost me nearly $100 in taxi fares for the pleasure.
To mentally handle this during one of those tickling throat bouts I looked at the map and confirmed the eleven kilometre trip home was mostly along the river. If I packed an emergency breakfast and some headphones, and I was positive for Covid, I could take a pleasant morning walk home, and my sick leave was already booked. If I didn't have Covid I'd get to have my operation. This was a win win, I reasoned.
Only in 2022 would I consider either having my wrist cut into and stitched back together, or walking eleven kilometres while infected by the virus behind a global pandemic, a "win win".