I had my inaugural dose of the Pfizer vaccine on Inauguration Day, a week ago today. This came about as a result of a notification from the Centers for Disease Control that I, as a 75+geezer, was eligible for the vaccine; all I had to do was fill out an online form, which I did, and scroll through the calendar for an available date at Norwalk General Hospital, which is just a 20-minute drive from my house. The whole process took less than half an hour; so did the inoculation procedure. The room wasn’t crowded — perhaps a dozen to 20 people, most medical and other “front-line” workers, there for the same reason as I. A nurse checked my photo ID to make sure I was who I claimed to be, was the correct age, and had never experienced allergic reactions to previous vaccinations or from taking medications. Up went my sleeve, in went the needle.
Apres jab, I was sent to a waiting room to make sure I did not suffer an adverse reaction. I did not, and walked out to my car, having taken one small step toward a normal life, defined these days as a life free of worry that one will end one’s days isolated in an intensive care ward, wheezing through a ventilator. That liberation is, of course, a long way off. I have to get the second dose, scheduled for February 19, and figure it will be at least six months, probably a year, before most everyone else in the country is vaccinated and on their own roads to normality.
Still, I breathed a little easier. I was reminded of a day, a long, long time ago, when my mother took me to the doctor for the polio vaccine . Up until iJonas Salk invented it, every child and every parent lived in dread of that disease. Now we could go to the municipal swimming pool or to school without fear contracting it, and the possibility of a life on crutches or, worse, in an iron lung.
My experience with the Covid vaccine was a happy one, compared with what other people have to go through. For example, my wife and sister-in-law spent many hours between them seeking an appointment for their 94-year-old mother, Molly Ware. She lives in Westchester County, N.Y., where the vaccine rollout is doing anything but rolling. After two days of searching, Leslie and Jennifer secured a slot for Molly fairly near her home — on April 5th! That was better than the first opening they found — on April 15 at a race track in Queens, many traffic-choked miles from Molly’s home in Rye, N.Y.
The vaccination ‘roll out’ is certainly where the rubber meets the road as far as patient-health care system interact. I live in New York and I’m 70; my first attempts at getting an appointment was January 11th or 12th. Standing outside in the freezing cold (possibly with rain or snow) for a few hours ONCE I GET AN APPOINTMENT is not any kind of smart health care. I will keep trying, I will assume that I have no protection if I don’t get the series of vaccines, and continue with social isolation and masks.
I was 5 or 6 when my mom took me to the Health Department to get a Polio shot- I wasn’t afraid of polio, I was afraid of THE SHOT. My trip to get it had been preceded by a few dinner table talks from my parents (sorely missed – I have so many questions for them!) like the kids in school who came down with scarlet fever – all their books were burned and THEIR HEADS WERE SHAVED!- they said because the fever caused your hair to fall out and that’s how it was dealt with. Kids died of ‘summer complaint’ – which was some kind of epidemic frequenting the city (this was Hell’s Kitchen) and could have been cholera or small pox. This was in the 20’s; a hundred years seems not so long ago.
Philip, you must be walking in high cotton to stroll through the process so blessed. I’m glad to hear you and your family are being sustained by the process finally shaping hope as more than a dream but a path to stable ground where once again we can interact with greater whole of humanity only perhaps with more empathy and humility.
Hi Phil;
Congratulations on getting it.
I am 77, live in St. Johnsbury, VT, (where you did reading some years back, right after Jim Harrison’s death, which I attended and talked with you), and still work full time at a mental health agency in Littleton, NH. Worked through the crisis so far.
Was very difficult getting through the state process to register, but finally did and on Feb 3rd get the first shot, at the National Guard Armory.
Vermont starts this week for those 75 and up.
I also remember the polio days, and the fear and relief when the vaccine was developed.
Take care.
We got our first one in Santa Fe two weeks ago, but only because we happened to ask at the local pharmacy. They were not volunteering availability because they didn’t want a stampede. We have appointments for the second mid-February. A friend in Phoenix got an appointment for her first shot–in a stadium on hour’s drive away at 1:30 a.m. in two weeks. And we’re all 80.