Feels A Lot Like Hope

Got my first Covid-19 vaccination yesterday. 2nd one is scheduled for March 7.

Unbelievable feeling.

Apparently I get VIP treatment because I work for the City of Concord. I never even registered on the vaccination website. The city called me. Three times.

I could have been vaccinated a month ago - that was the first call I got. At that time I had no idea this program was even in place. But Dr. Feelgood wanted me to get a clear indication if there were any side effects from the hormone therapy shot. She thought I should wait because it is possible to get side effects from the covid shot. And you think your life is complicated.

The city's vaccination program is being administered by the fire department; the shots are being delivered by the National Guard. The fire department has the list of city employees and sets up the appointments, the Guard does the deed.

When I got the first call I explained that I had to wait. Gave them a timeframe. They called me again anyway a couple of weeks later - I had to say no again. This made me nervous.

Finally I called them last Saturday and told them I was ready to rock. They called me yesterday and said "Get in here, son."

This is not your average visit to Dr. Feelgood. I never got out of my car.

The Nationa Guard has commandeered a garage abandoned by Sears. I was greeted by a National Guard dude as I pulled up. He verified that I belonged there, gave me what I needed and moved me along.

There was a steady stream of cars pulling in but it was smooth sailing. The Guard has this down to a science.

They only allow a limited number of cars into the garage at one time. They were just shutting the door as I came around the bend. I was now second in line.

Ten minutes later they re-opened the door and we rolled in.  I pulled up, rolled down the window and shut the engine off. They checked my ID, pumped all my info into a tablet, set up my next appointment and gave me the shot. Pfizer.

Then I rolled outside to the "observation area" and parked. They keep an eye on you for about 20 minutes. In that time a guy came around three times to make sure I was feeling ok. Are you nauseous? Dizzy? Do you feel weird in any way?

Then I was released. That was it. The whole thing took about 30 minutes. But it was weird, like a scene out of a futuristic movie. Cars rolling up, National Guardsmen - in uniform -  sticking needles in peoples' arms.

On March 7 I will breathe a huge sigh of relief. But it won't be over, which is another weird aspect of this whole thing. I won't be able to get real sick from this fucking disease but I can still get it - and still transmit it. So I will still have to mask up and stay away from stupid people.

So how does this work? At some point does somebody declare "OK everybody - we have reached herd immunity - take your masks off"? I have no idea. I will do what I learned to do in 2020 - wait.

Watching Bill Maher last Friday and he was talking about how weird this is. He said "Shit, I am still waiting for 2020 to end." That's exactly how it feels.

After March 7 it will be tempting to get myself infected and then hang around places where trump people congregate - you know, gun stores and domestic violence/addiction rehab centers.

Unfortunately Carol's first appointment isn't until March 19. She had to go through the website. She does not enjoy the same celebrity status that I do.

But we are on our way. Shit, man - by the time we can unmask it will have been a year and a half - or more - of surreal insanity. Even getting just the first shot provides a measure of comfort. And I had no side effects at all. None. Today my shoulder is sore and stiff, but that ain't no big thing.

One shot to the arm and hope is kindled. It is a tentative flame at best.

I can't wait for it to explode into a bonfire.