I was at the neurologist, IN PERSON. Terrifying. Happily, he did not try to shake my hand like he usually does.
I was calm, until he got to the part of the exam in which he touches both sides of my face to test for any facial sensory loss.
I pulled back. “You’re touching my face!”
“Yes, does it feel the same on both –“
I wanted to swat his hands away, but I don’t think I did. “Stop touching my face!”
“I washed my hands. Does it feel the same on both sides?”
“Yes!” I said, and thought, “Get off my face! I don’t even touch my own face.” (Actually it’s entirely possible I said all those things and swatted his hands away. I was unprepared.)
I then began to think maybe I am being too vigilant. He reassured me that if I came down with the Covid (unspoken: like if maybe someone else touches my face) I can come right to his office and get some monoclonal antibodies. So that’s great. He did say only about a dozen of his patients had gotten sick and only one even went in the hospital. (And I am sure he touched many more faces than that.)
In fact, many things are great in this situation. I can work from home. I live where vaccines and tests are available. I have no kids to worry about. My boss already knew I was immunocompromised, so no big revelations. I’m not on the really heavy duty medication that would wipe out my entire immune system instead of half. I should be much much calmer than I am.
The next day I thought about touching my face, but I couldn’t do it.