I play Duck, Duck, Goose in theatre. It's the best. And you can always bet on the popular kids getting chosen first. As "random" as it is, you know that after several kids "goose" their friends, eventually everyone gets chosen. Even if the teacher has to keep the game going until the bitter end.
To me, this is how the vaccine was rolled out. They innoculated the politicians, who can work from home easily, first. Goose. I did not agree with that. Then the health care workers, goose, yes please, I agreed with that, and there was not a dosage shortage for either group. Just like the game, the first few rounds went smoothly, as those who were expecting to be chosen, were. Goose, goose , goose.
Then we came to the eldery population, and things got snarled. Duck...duck...It wasn't that they couldn't run around the circle once chosen, it's that they were being chosen erratically. Duuuuck, duck, duck duck. The VA was unable to take care of their own, duck, duck, doses were short, duck, duck, duck, duck... older Americans were shopping appointments at Walgreens, King Soopers and Safeway when their insurance companies could not accomodate them. Duck duck duck duck DUCK DUCK DUCK. I became convinced then that I would not get the vacccine. As a teacher, were were declared "1 b" after the older population. Based on the opening rounds, I was convinced they were going to run out before getting to me. I still think that: It's in two doses. I received my first dose yesterday, with much gratitude. Goose!
I feel better today than I have in a year. I slept soundly last night for the first time in a year. My dreams were vivid and positive ...etc etc. As much as I'd like to say the vaccine is a magic serum itself, it is what it represents that caused me to choke up yesterday when I received the shot at Kaiser.
I was invited by two insurance companies to receive the dose, one of which was not even mine. This happened Friday, as I was about to follow a link sent to me by my collegue in which I could shop available appointments at Walgreens in Colorado Springs by zip code. Teachers had taken up the cue left by our elders, and began to suspect they were not going to get the shot unless they shopped outside of the system.
I did not have the fun Hunger Games Experience that happened at the Convention Center with Jeffco. Only 200 doses were left unclaimed,so they sent 4,600 emails to all employees inviting them to race to the site of the yearly stock show for 200 doses. Duckduckduckduck hurry, run! The email was sent at 4:45 on a weekend day, teachers had to arrive by 6 pm to receive the dose. DuckduckduckduckDUCKDUCK, Goose You Win! I will leave that story to those who were present, and the news agencies who picked it up,and again leave you to ponder the thought process in that choice.
I did not shop zip codes to seek a faster vaccine due to my number. Duck. Duck. Even though my building is hybrid, our fractured schedule dictates that I do not see students in person until after spring break. I was not in a hurry, so I wanted to give my collegues in other districts the opportunity to get vaccinated first. I have friends walking back into rooms with 30 kids on Tuesday in other districts. One such friend was on seven waiting lists, as the "district appointments" were filled up. That gave me pause. Math seems to vex these districts, do you not know how many employees you have? So, I was watching the mad race, receiving links to Safeways and Walgreens from colleagues, tracking the panic on Facebook, and resolved to waiting for the 46,199 people to get shot before me, when I received the email invites. One from my insurance company, Kaiser, and one from Not My Insurance Company who was reaching out to all educators in our district. I was flummoxed. Goose...goose? Geese?
The panic attack that ensued was brief. I first called my mom to find out when her appointment was, as I don't want to get vaccinated weeks before her. Turns out it's only days, and I'm still salty about that. She's in the category ahead of me, why is her vaccine two days after mine? We both have Kaiser. Also,I had heard if you've ever had an anaphlaxic (anaphlatic?) reaction to anything, ever, you could be at risk with the vaccine.That convinced me that I would have a nasty reaction, and then I just sucked it up and drove to Kaiser yesterday. The whole panic attack lasted about two hours, I made a lot of progress. I was proud of myself.
The parking lot was not packed. There was no line. I walked right in, and was greeted by a lovely woman whose job is to make me stand in front of the scanner (I assume for temperature, but I believe it was judging the symmetricality of my facial features) and asked to walk downstairs. En route, I saw no people: not in line or exiting. I was given my card once it was located. I have discovered I have serious reading comprehension issues and no understanding of time any more. My appointment was for 4:15, I arrived at 3:45, thinking it was at 4. Immma joy. No matter, they happily retrieved my card,and I stood for approximately thirty seconds awating my turn to be jabbed. The lovely nurse had me read three statements and reply out loud, one of which was "Have you ever had anaphlaxia?" I said one time, yes, yes I did, and she said "OK, we'll have you wait 30 minutes instead of 15" and jabbed me. Clearly, there is no real concern about this, it's just a precaution. Her clogs were purpley and wonderful, and she had personally given 500 doses that day. She was one of three nurses, so...math. There was a bank of health workers with lap tops managing logging the vaccines and assigning our second appointments, everyone was chatting and in good spirits with one another. Since I had to wait 30 minutes, I heard a bit more than most, and I noted there was a count going on regarding how many doses they had remaining vs. people showing up for their appointment. It sounded like people who made appointments weren't following through. I wonder if they took the unclaimed doses over to Jeffco Stadium and gave them away.
I sat there and felt relieved. I got choked up, my body relaxed, I was watching everyone and listening to all of the conversations and I felt present for the first time in...a year, frankly.
It's the symbolism of receiving the vaccine that hit me. It's not over, this is never going to be truly over. But the vaccine is real, and some teachers are getting vaccinated. I say "some" not because of those who may be choosing to abstain, but because university professors are not considered "educators", and my friend had to shop appointments because the district appointments were "full".
Duck, duck, goose.
I have a lot of opinions. So do you.
I am not going to share any more of mine.
My mind has been eased. I've been in survival mode for two years, it was my norm. That's why I started to write this.
Duck, duck, goose. If you are invited to play, I recommend doing so.
And if you aren't tapped to play, stand up and play, anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment