Day #322 Writing Through COVID-19: V-Day

I woke this morning to a text from my daughter in Florida, the one who was living in Spain when COVID ravaged that country last March.

Vaccine day, mom?

Yes, it's V-Day! I responded, adding victory-fingers emojis.
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I wore long sleeves at school but packed a deltoid-accessible shirt that I changed into at 3:13 when the final bell rang. 

I fought the student traffic leaving the parking lot to make it to the medical center by 3:30. I passed through the COVID screening and followed the signs to Conference Room #2, where I checked in quickly and was directed to Julie's table. 

You know you live in a small town when your COVID vaccine nurse is also the woman who helped deliver two of your children nearly 30 years ago. Her daughter was my yearbook Editor in Chief in 2015, and she has re-caned two rocking chairs for me.

Julie glanced over my paperwork and paused. 

"You've recently had a shingles vaccine?" she asked.

Yes, I explained, I'd had my booster on Jan. 28, eight days ago. 

Julie called to her supervisor, who did some checking and then confirmed that the CDC recommends waiting two weeks after other inoculations before getting the COVID vaccine.

"The CDC also recommends masks," I countered, "and a lot of people in our county ignore that recommendation." My argument was a false comparison and sounded pouty to me even as I said it. 

I was not behaving well.

The supervisor kindly looked past my impudence and explained that because my body is in a shingles-fighting mode right now, its antibodies are heightened, which might prevent the COVID vaccine from asserting itself and activating the necessary virus-fighting response. (Something like that.)
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Julie's face mirrored my own disappointment. She guided me to Beth, our county's public health official.

You know you live in a small town when the county's public health official's husband graduated with your daughter. He is also the nephew of my dear friend Laura. I am Laura's son's godmother.

Beth made a note to push me to the front of the next vaccine clinic on Wednesday, then realized I'll still be one day short of the 14-day hiatus that day.
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I didn't cry. 

But I felt like it.

I know my life (and yours) will not change much after the first people get the vaccine. We'll still need to mask to protect others. Travel is still not recommended. New Zealand has already told me I can't see my grandbaby Wolf until 2022 at the earliest.

But tonight a teacher friend posted her "I got vaccinated" sticker on Facebook. The guest commentator on Market-to-Market (yep, watching with my farmer as I write) just bragged up his vaccine. 

The pretend me is happy for everyone who has already been vaccinated.

The real me is blue.

I'm ticked that of the THREE nurses in the vaccination room eight days ago, none mentioned the shingles contraindication with the COVID vaccine. None asked me if I qualified for the COVID shot, or if I might be receiving it in the near future. 

I also blame myself for my ignorance. I would have willingly postponed my shingles vaccine if I'd known it would prevent me from qualifying for the COVID shot. Why didn't I think to check this out before my shingles booster?

Am I frustrated with the nurses?
Frustrated with myself?
Or frustrated by 11 months of the unrelenting unfairness of the virus.

Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison