And then there’s the other, theoretically non-COVID side of health care.

At the extreme risk of over-sharing, I’ve been trying to get a tummy complaint sorted out. This means tests. Lots and lots of tests. If and when you can get them.

To be fair, I’ve managed to get a couple, but I’m anxiously awaiting others. When you’re doubled over more often than not, you start to wonder if you just might perish (forgive the drama) before the health care system catches up to the postlockdown era, if that is in fact the era we find ourselves in.

Banging pots and pans over the poor doctor’s head (not literally) did get me an urgent face-to-face appointment. But when I announced that on top of tummy symptoms, I sometimes also felt short of breath (methinks this will happen when your bloated stomach is twice its normal size), everything temporarily stopped.

I had to get a COVID test.

Yes, I understood. No, I was not happy about it. This had been going on long enough with zero other COVID symptoms that I was 99.999 per cent positive I didn’t have the virus.

I had the test two days later, and because of the doctor’s concern, I landed an appointment. In other words, I didn’t have to line up for hours at the drive-in. This was good.

In fact, it was very good. I pulled into the parking lot and called the clinic on my cellphone. They told me I had to wait about five minutes (not bad) and to leave everything in the car except my keys, which had to be carried in a pocket (so be warned if this happens to you; bring a pocket).

Upon entering the foyer, I sanitized my hands and put on a clean mask under the watchful eye of a health care person on the other side of the glass door. Once inside, I was whisked to a private room and a very kind nurse asked me a few (very few) questions. Then I lowered the mask and she gently invaded my right nostril with the long Q-tip-like thingy.

I was exhorted to leave through the back door, sanitize my hands twice more and not to touch said door. It was easy enough to push the handle with my hip and escape. I left my mask on until I was back in the car, and that was that. In and out, apart from the brief wait time, in under eight minutes.

Nor did the test really bother me much, and I am a freak about such things. It was uncomfortable for five whole seconds. I wish my tummy tests were that easy.

Two days later, the nurse from the clinic phoned. Yep. Negative.

Then 10 days later (sigh), I awakened unable to speak. Laryngitis. Really!? This wouldn’t have been a big deal, except I was slated to speak at a business event four days later. I called 811 for advice and was roundly told I would NOT be appearing, that I could be fined, my reputation in ruins, and needed another COVID test.

Off I went again, and the second experience was even better than the first. No waiting, an unbelievably dexterous and sweet nurse, and boom, done. I didn’t have COVID the second time, either. But I did miss the event. You can’t leave the house until your symptoms are gone.

I tell you all of this for three reasons.

One. If you haven’t had one, let me say that COVID tests are really a breeze if you have a booked appointment. The worst part was the drive across town.

Two. These health people are really taking this extremely seriously. Count on it. It drove me bats, but I was impressed just the same. On the other hand, this freedom thing we’ve come to revere is experiencing a bit of a slapdown. But safety comes first.

Three. COVID has delayed many tests and procedures, particularly with specialists who tend to be overbooked. I am frustrated and sometimes a bit frightened. I can’t imagine how people with very serious and proven health conditions are managing. The fear and anxiety must be terrible. To you, and to those really sick with COVID, I offer my support and sympathy.

Taken all together, COVID is a bloody nightmare. It’s caused this vicious circular delay in some cases which may rebound unless we can slow down the viral spread (again, caveat: some tests and procedures are moving along fairly well). We, the people, have to take it seriously; we have to try to beat it back — and not just for COVID sufferers. For all sufferers.

-Joanne Paulson