Now that I have quarantined at my house in central Florida for almost two weeks, I’m ready to get out of here. I want to drive to my sister’s home near Destin, where I can hunker down with her family. I look forward to giggles with my sassy little niece, Annesley, and informative chats about lizards with my precocious nephew, Will. Their new pool is also calling my name. However, I want to be sure I’m virus-free before invading their space.
Everyone has been telling me how easy it is to get a Covid-19 test in the States, and sure enough, when I googled it yesterday, I found an online interface where I could register for drive-up testing at several locations. I filled out the form, chose a location, clicked on one of the available appointments, and was sent to another form. It took all of two minutes to complete the process, but when I clicked “submit,” a message popped up saying, “Sorry, that time is no longer available. Please choose a new time.” When I followed those directions, it wiped all my information off the forms, and I had to start over. Which I did. ELEVEN times!
I now knew my mom’s mobile number, my health insurance membership number, and my rental car license plate by heart, but I still didn’t have an appointment.
I googled again and found the number for the Florida Department of Health. I learned that I could get free covid testing with no appointment at one of three locations between 9 a.m. and 2 p.m. “The Clermont site has already used up all their tests for the day, though,” I was told. I asked about the other two sites. One was more than an hour’s drive, but the other – about 30 minutes away – still had tests available.
It was 9:30 a.m. I grabbed my keys and my mask and hit the road. When I arrived at the health department around 10 a.m., a big sign informed me, “COVID testing closed.” Another note explained the 100 tests allocated for the day had already been used. When I got home, I called the health department office to find out how early I would need to arrive to get one of the coveted tests. “Oh just be here by 9, and you’ll be fine,” the receptionist said.
This morning, I was on the road by 8:10 a.m. I packed a book, planning to hang out in my car till the clinic opened. Instead, I arrived to find a full parking lot and a line of masked test seekers. The “COVID testing closed” sign was still posted, so I almost turned around to drive home. Instead, I parked and started preparing a firm but civil reaction if someone informed me that I was too late. Lucky for me, that didn’t happen.
A nurse handed me a baggie with a blank label on it. She told me to write my name, phone number, and birthdate and then proceed to another nurse, Rosanna, who gave the instructions. Open the baggie, take out a swab, and stick it up both nostrils. “How high do we have to stick it?” I asked. I had heard you practically have to touch your brain. “As high as you’re comfortable,” she answered. “Just clean out your boogers.”
Boogerless, I took a little liquid-filled vial out of the baggie and popped my swab inside. I handed my baggie back to Rosanna, and I was finished. It looked like another 20 people behind me in line would get the last of the tests; a health department worker was sending everyone else away at 9:40 a.m.
Once I got over my crankiness at the state of Florida for making this process so frustrating, I rather enjoyed my drive home. I guess I hadn’t realized how close I was to a beautiful stretch of countryside.
My parents have lived in this retirement community for several years. Although I have visited many times, we usually hung out at their house or the pool. We didn’t venture far beyond the subdivision gates. When Tony and I bought a house just up the street from my mother, we advertised it as a seasonal rental, so we haven’t gotten emotionally invested enough to learn about the area. For example, I had no idea a huge national forest is practically in our backyard!
According to the U.S. Forest Service, the Ocala National Forest “is the southernmost forest in the continental United States and protects the world’s largest contiguous sand pine scrub forest. The forest has more than 600 lakes, rivers, and springs, including three first-magnitude springs where visitors can swim, snorkel, and dive in crystalline waters year round.” (I just looked it up. A first-magnitude spring is the largest kind of spring, discharging at least 64.6 million gallons of water per day.) Wait, what?! How do I not know about this place?
In addition to boasting some gorgeous trees and springs, which frankly were enough to get me super excited, the Ocala National Forest also features several recreation areas, an historic mill house on the National Register of Historic Places, an archaeological site with evidence of pre-Columbian settlements, and an interpretive trail through the area that inspired Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings to write her Pulitzer Prize-winning book, The Yearling. (Check out this story from NPR.)
Hold on … Fun? Nature? Cultural heritage? Literature? Those are my favorite things! Another favorite thing? Horses. And guess where you can find the Ocala 100-Mile Horse Trail? As soon as I win the lottery, I am buying a horse and getting on that trail. Can’t wait.
On my two trips to the health department, I passed through part of the national forest and witnessed other spirit-nourishing scenes, as well. An eagle’s nest, perched at the top of a towering tree. Acres of bee boxes. A flock of shorn sheep (I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing at first!). Sandhill cranes, including a baby (!) strolling through the fields. Horses grazing, cows snoozing in the shade. And lakes! So many lakes. In typical fashion, I was quite giddy and may have shrieked a bit with delight.
So, lesson learned. Every cloud has a silver lining … blah, blah, blah. Instead of moaning about having to drive 30 minutes for a covid test, I am rejoicing to discover so much beauty right around the corner. For now, I will wait for my test results and fantasize about the day when the parks reopen and we can all get back out there to soak it up.