TB Test

My volunteer tutoring requires that I be tested for tuberculosis since I’m working with kids. I’m fairly certain that I do not have the consumption but I complied, thinking it would be an easy 20 minutes out of my day.

I thought wrong. Nothing’s easy at the public health clinic. Ah, the joys of being a freelancer and self-insured.

It took not 20 minutes, but 90 minutes. 90 minutes of sitting a dirty waiting room to be coughed on by aged transvestites and their mangy dogs (it was the Castro clinic). Then I got to answer pointless questions like “What’s your marital status?” “Do you have a religious preference?” and “What’s your mother’s first name?” Those are literally the three and only questions they asked. What does any of that have to do with TB?

And then, this is the kicker, I finally get to go into the little room and have a drop of liquid injected under my skin (liquid I don’t trust by the way, if I’m dead in three hours, you know why. You read it here!) I ask where the bathroom is. It’s outside! It’s a port-a-potty! The bathroom inside the clinic is under construction, so patients have to go outside to the port-a-potty. In a health clinic!

I don’t know where our tax dollars are going, but they’re clearly not going to healthcare. I feel way sicker than when I entered the clinic two hours ago. They probably GAVE me tuberculosis.