I’m sitting in bed juggling the COVID-19 test on top of my iPad. I know it’s not the scientific way to do things, but I’m seriously stuffed – and science isn’t my bag anyway. And the iPad’s nice and flat.

Like two plump frankfurters, my COVID-19 test result was unambiguous.Credit: Istock

After marvelling at all the paraphernalia that constitutes a test kit – and marvelling at the cavernous heights of one’s nostrils (mine at any rate) – I finally plop three little drops into the specified hole in the world’s tiniest “test cassette”. The instructions say to wait for 10 minutes.

I flop back on the pillows and close my eyes. Man. I. Am. So. Tired. When Jamie, the boss of the op shop where I volunteer, suggested on closing day that I nip upstairs to see some beautiful dolls that someone had kindly donated, he may as well have asked me to climb Mount Everest. I did want to see those dolls, but I thought I’d need an oxygen mask to get there (and would probably toss it to the side on my descent). So I didn’t.

Five minutes have passed and I’m impatient. I have a sneak peek at the test kit. Bingo! Two thick red lines. Not a shaky second red line like the instructions said might happen. Two red lines as thick as plump frankfurters. This is the real deal. Why am I so excited? I feel like I’ve just become pregnant.

After four years of dodging the bloody thing, I finally got caught. No more boasting at dinner parties that my partner, my son and I were COVID-19 virgins. No more self-congratulations that, clearly, I was a woman of steel. I was human, after all, goddammit. And luckily not badly affected.

My mind immediately raced to whom I’d hugged – or worse, cheek-kissed – the day before. I’d have to ring Ange and Sonia. Oh, and Jamie.

And who was the bugger who’d given it to me? I thought about all the lovely customers in the op shop who’d touched me with their season’s greetings. Our wonderful regulars – the mum who fossicks in the “dress department” for an hour and buys a book instead. The grandpa who loves comedian Roy “Mo” Rene as much as my dad did and does shop-stopping impersonations. The beautiful lady and Monty, who covers me in lavish kisses. (Monty’s a cavoodle and we’re in love.) Could dogs be the culprit all along? We did think it was birds for a while. Or was it eels?

Now that I know I have COVID-19, I feel sicker than I probably would have had the test not told me so. It’s a bit like not noticing when you scrape against a doorway until you see the blood – and then it really hurts.