I got a notice from my doctor's group the other day that I should not wait for the pharmacy, with which they are apparently associated for the purpose, to get the vaccine. Looks like they won't, or they won't anytime soon. It is a small pharmacy, probably privately owned.
The good news for me, though, was that I had not been waiting for them. I didn't sit on the computer all night, as I said in a prior entry, but I did check the local news each day to see if any of the large pharmacies which have been given the contract (I assume it is a contract) had yet received a supply of doses. As it turns out last Thursday, I was making such a perusal when I saw that CVS had been approved and was receiving the vaccine. I went to their main site. I punched in my zip code. That was fast. Any CVS near my home was already booked or did not actually have the vaccine. So I began punching in surrounding zip codes. After a while I found one at the other end of town, which seemed to have lots of openings. I signed up. There was some reservation as naturally the "if it bleeds it leads" news had highlighted cases in which someone who received the shot was in need of an epi pen rescue. And, of course, I have friends and at least one relative who believe that this vaccine material has the ability to track us forever and a day. I wouldn't be surprised. But to me that ship has sailed. Unless you truly go "off the grid" (and though I have thought about it, and will think about it again as more nutty things happen in this society, at this stage of the game, given my age, I probably am not capable of "off the grid") being tracked is the story of our lives already. Besides, in this society, when you only have the statistical likelihood of living maybe another 12 years, 15 at the outside, I don't think there is much for anyone to track when it comes to me. It's not like this society is interested in "the wisdom of the elders". Besides I doubt I have any wisdom to offer, and if I did, it's outdated, and irrelevant, along with Western Civilization. And, while I will still hate to fly, and the idea of wearing a mask for 5-10 hours within the continent makes me panicky, I am pretty sure you won't be able to go anywhere, without that little card that comes with your first appointment for the vaccine.
Apropos of that first appointment. I had my appointment for 2:15 today on Western Avenue in Los Angeles. I used to work not far from there back in the day, and it is reminiscent, to me, of my old Bronx neighborhood until I was about 16--familiarly seedy. It put me in mind of 170th Street, or Fordham Road, circa 1960s to mid 1970s. The parking lot (something not easily found in the Bronx in those days) was oddly constructed, with incredibly narrow lanes to pass through on the way to an available space. I was early, so I went on the check in line, which was fairly long, and in which proper distancing was not readily achievable. Despite that reality, the woman in front of me asked me (though I was wearing two masks) no, rather, she said I was too close to her. I backed up, and was closer to the man behind me, who was less concerned about my presence, and who, it turned out was from the East Coast, about my age, and was friendly. He helped me pass the wait time. The young CVS staff were efficient, and called my name while I stood on the line, checked me in, gave me my proof of vaccination card and asked me to wait for the person doing the injections. I could see how edgy people were feeling, anxious, about getting a paradoxical protection that does not free us from the mandates of social distancing and mask wearing. One elderly man (yes, there are some people older than me; I figure he was the generation just ahead of me) who was Chinese and did not speak any language available at CVS, was two hours early and kept shuffling up to the various staff people trying to understand that they were telling him to come back at 4 (it was 2). I felt such an affection for the man, and I kept hoping that someone would just let him break into the line and get his vaccination. And they did. And these young people were kind to him. I felt a spark of hope for the youngest adult generation.
My line buddy and I ended up waiting our turn in adjacent chairs. We talked about stoops, the ones we sat on outside our apartment buildings back in the day, the little stone steps, and street games like stick ball (he played; I didn't. My mother would have killed me if I played in the street), and Skelly, and roller skating on steel skates. He called his wife who asked him, apparently, if her were scared of getting the shot. He wasn't. He noticed the fair number of young people getting the vaccination. He asked about it, and was told that these were largely caregivers of older people.
My turn came and the technician, Hovig, was kind, and friendly, and surprisingly calm amid the proceeedings. And his administration of the shot-it was masterful in its painlessness.
I followed the prescription to stay and sit for 15 minutes. The only sensation I had, and that for only a few minutes was an itch at the injection site. That dissipated quickly. Up to the moment I just pulled a sweatshirt off, as I was writing this entry, I felt nothing at all in that arm, and it is three hours later. But, when I did pull the sweat shirt off, there was just a tiny ache in doing so. Well, that happened with the flu shot too, so, I expect that tonight I might not be able to sleep on that side. But right now, maybe I will escape that little side effect.
Turns out that the man I spent the hour or so with, not only does he come from the East, but he came from my neighborhood. We waved goodbye at the door. I wonder if I would recognize him were we to meet by chance somewhere around Fairfax and Sunset, where we both do our shopping?
I have my appointment at the same CVS in exactly one month. It turns out that it wasn't a half bad adventure. I have to say that as I drove away, I breathed a sigh of relief to have jumped this societal and medical hurdle.
And I have a sticker to prove it!
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