Last Friday, I had three little viles of blood taken out of me, peed in a cup and got a TB test, all in a good day's work. I don't really like needles, so all this was even extra special, sitting there watching my blood squirting like ketchup into little tubes. Yum. I also forgot how much fun a TB test could be, the nurse stuck this needle into the layer just below my skin and injected this solution that gave me a creepy little boil like a weird sci-fi movie. The boil goes away in a few minutes, but the injection site remain red for the next 72 hours, and if the boil doesn't completely go away and stays a lumpy size, it means that I have TB. The last time I had a TB test was when I first came to the state, and the injection site had a 10mm swell so it was ruled positive. So needless to day I was really nervous this time, and when I came in, it took four different nurses to determine whether or not mine was a positive. And it was.
I seriously felt like the world was about to come crashing down, I mean, a POSITIVE test?1?! There are only a few times in our lives that the word "positive" could make a person feel like they're falling down to the pit of hell, like a positive HIV test result, or a positive pregnancy test (I'm speaking objectively, of course) or in my case, a positive TB test. I thought my barely blooming relationship with the Peace Corps was going to be over, and I was so confused too. I KNOW that I don't have TB nor have I ever did because if I did, I for sure wasn't gonna be allowed to be in the US, or be in a public school. I just didn't make any sense. So I panicked, and rambled to the nurse secretly hoping that they would change their minds and marked that my test was negative instead.
They did no such thing, except calmly explained to me that everyone who is a FOB and was born in Vietnam like me test positive for TB no matter what, and just because I tested positive doesn't mean I have active TB in my lungs. And the reason why people who are born in Vietnam all tested positive for PB is because of the "fob shot" that we get when we were babies. What's a "fob shot"? I totally forgot what exactly what the nurse said, but all my immigrants homies know what I'm talking about, we even have the scars to prove it. This scar is what distinguishes us against "real" Americans since it's the evidence that we were born somewhere else outside the U.S of A. I guess I'll just have to accept that you can take the girl out of the motherland, but you can't take the motherland out of the girl.
So, anyway, as result, I have to take an x-ray of my lungs due to my positive TB test to really determine that I'm healthy. One more test to lag my paper work process, but at least after tomorrow, I'll will be done with medical testing for the most part, though there are still 4 wisdom teeth that need removal, but that's another day.
My left arm suffered a little bit that day. Under the big(ger) wad of cotton is the creepy boil making its mark on my epidermis.
I really have to admit that kind of semi-dropped the ball on this last Peace Corps app leg after completing all the other parts so promptly. After such a long delay, I can only hope that the Peace Corps hasn't already forgot about me and decided that they don't really need to send a little Asian girl to Africa after all. That would just straight up sucks. Last week, I had a dream that my invitation for the Peace Corps came, and that seriously was the happiest dream I have ever had. I really want to go to the Peace Corps. Shit, I don't even need to be in Africa, I'll go anywhere as long as they let me.
In the meanwhile, I'm still trying to move out of San Diego before Vietnam, and it's going at a turtle pace. All my stuff are already in boxes from the last move, but I still somehow manage not to have my shit together. Let's hope this weekend will be productive for me. Le sigh.
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