Boomer’s Journal

IT’S JUST A SHOT AWAY

So, were The Rolling Stones prescient or what?
Back in 1969 when that iconic anti-Beatles rock group came out with the song “Gimme Shelter,” they weren’t referring to inoculations, but more likely to violence, from the Vietnam War, or, some say, to Keith Richards’s thoughts toward his ‘mate’ Mick Jagger, who may or may not have been, uh… a bit preoccupied with Keith’s girlfriend.
But I am mis-appropriating this line to refer to the current phenomenon
of the anti-COVID vaccine shot, the ‘Fauci Ouchie’… yes, friends those inoculations that, with any luck, may put an end to the craziest time of most of our lives.
Earlier this month, on the 3rd, to be exact, Jill registered us for the COVID-19 inoculation with the St. Charles County Health Department. We had been putting our names in the queue with any and all agents who were offering it.
Hospitals, health agencies…etching the hopes that someone would give us a call. And magically within a few hours we got an email that told us if we could high-tail it to The Family Arena, we could get stuck. Well, not in so many words. It was much more medically-professionally worded, of course. I had just packed up the Rogue with my fishing gear, it being the only day in a while that the temps were above 50 and the sun shining, and was about to roll out when the text came.
Ugh, said I. Ugh and ugh again.
You see, I am a non-shot kind of guy. Much to my doctor’s chagrin, I have never had a flu, shingles nor pneumonia stick, even though I am in that wonderful demographic of being highly susceptible to those dreaded diseases.
So you can imagine my reluctance to get this ‘new, radically-created, seemingly-rushed-through-to-general-population-use’ concoction of various unpronounceable chemicals. Especially with the trout just being stocked the day before in various lakes at Busch Wildlife Center with the sun shining and 50 degrees… so, yeah. Ugh.
But then, due to the clear and ever-present good sense of The Lovely Jill, who said words to the effect that ‘we can see the grandkids more, and you do NOT want to get The COVID!,” I submitted, and rolled we did to the center of the storm. We were able to get right in, moved through the line like lightning, and got stuck. I almost had no time for trepidation.
Almost. I felt a bit of a mosquito-like prick in my right shoulder from Nurse Hazmat-Suit, and Jill and I cooled it in a waiting area, just to be sure we didn’t start turning green or foaming at the mouth. As we left the center, the line was halfway around the building. And it never did get to 50 degrees that day, so there was that.
Side effects? I felt that afternoon, that I was a bit poisoned, which in fact, I guess I was. Slept a lot that day and the next. But nothing major, and really nothing much else after that. People tell me that the second shot is worse, to which I say “well, thanks for that, friend!!” As if I still don’t have visions of anaphylactic shock dancing in my head.
Some random thoughts about all this, as an aside:
I wonder why some people were getting this and others not? I mean, firefighters and first responders of all stripes should have been front and center right along with health providers. Old folks, like me and Jill, on the list right behind them.
With some situations in some jurisdictions, it seems like a boarding call for Southwest Airlines. You know… “Section A, 1-8, please begin boarding.” Except that it seems some people are in the “C,16-23” group for no rhyme or reason.
Not sure how well this has been managed. However, I do realize this whole year has been a ‘fly-by-the-seat-of-your pants’ kind of exercise for anyone tasked with public health and responding to the ‘Dreaded COVID.’
And since it’s ‘just a shot away’ with our #2 stick coming in two weeks, we are grateful that we were able to get this party started. If you can do it, well, “take the plunge.” (Pun intended.)
Now, if I can just figure out what to do with this third ear…

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