The Vaccination Hunt: a Matter of Life or Death

Since March 2020 when the pandemic hit, Dan and I have quarantined. We get all our groceries delivered. God bless Instacart and Peapod! We have our prescriptions mailed to us. Amazon has delivered everything from batteries for our car key fobs to my lipstick and face cream.

A side note to delivery people: we appreciate you! That is why we offer both sweet and savory snacks on a table beside our door with a sign that invites you to take as much of whatever you like. We enjoy seeing the kinds of chocolates you prefer, Three Musketeers, as well as your preferred salty treats, barbecue chips and those orange crackers with cheese whiz on the inside, not the ones with peanut butter. Bottom line: we could not have survived without you.

So where have we gone in this past year? Every week we go to an outdoor farmer’s market, where masks and social distancing are required. At this market, there is 100 percent adherence to these rules. Thank you, Northern Virginians. Also, we have visited doctors and dentists.

As for seeing people in person, last summer we had a few friends on our deck. We entertained family in our backyard even when the humidity made us long for inside and air conditioning. When my son and his fiancée announced their engagement in December, we celebrated with carry-out from our favorite French restaurant. But when we sat down to eat and had to remove our masks, we sat at separate tables.

I have adjusted to this life and am not unhappy. It helps that I love the man I live with. Since Dan and I met late in life, this year of quarantine has allowed us to come to a deeper understanding of each other. We have established precious rituals and learned to appreciate the lovely little moments in the day. The way the sun pushes up from the horizon and settles on our breakfast table. Blazing sunsets of ochre and fuchsia that fill our western windows at dusk. I told myself if the pandemic does not end in my lifetime, that’s okay. Pandemic or not, I am having a beautiful life. Then we read about the development of effective vaccines. What a miracle.

Naturally, we sought vaccination appointments as soon as possible. On January 16, a Saturday, we read in the Washington Post that the Virginia governor had opened up vaccine eligibility to those 65 and older through our local health department. We assumed that the Fairfax County Health Department would make these appointments available on Monday, January 18. For us to be near the front of the signup line, Dan checked a little after midnight, then at 3 AM only to find that the website had not been changed. I got up at 4 AM and found the website the same. We were online when the health department opened at 8:30, but the old sign-up form for 75s and older was still there. We stayed online opening as many windows as possible, hoping the new signups would appear.
Finally, midmorning we were able to sign up with the Health Department, only to be told that at this time, they had no vaccine.

A little about Fairfax County: we are the largest county in Virginia with over a million residents and are the third wealthiest county in the US. We pay high taxes, especially property taxes. Before this vaccine debacle, I believed we got good service for our tax dollars in terms of excellent public schools, snow removal, waste collection, etc.

Also, most Northern Virginians are well-educated and savvy. There are few science deniers among us. In Fauci We Trust is a popular yard sign here. All of us want to be vaccinated. So, in early January we 65s and older numbered in the thousands, all chasing few vaccine doses.

Meanwhile in Florida, in early January, my sister Laura scored vaccine appointments for herself and her husband. Laura, civic-minded and resourceful, knows what is going on in her community. As soon as she got these appointment times, she acted as Paulette Revere and alerted boatloads of friends. Now all of them have gotten both doses of the vaccine and are having dinner parties and making travel plans.

Lucky for me, I have friends like my sister. These friends are women I have gotten together with on Friday nights for dinner and fierce games of Scrabble. For forty years, we have seen each other through life’s triumphs and tragedies, weddings and funerals. They are like my sister in that they know this community. After striking out with the county health department, they found other places that also had vaccine appointments. Like my sis, they shared these places with Dan and me. We hopped on the schedule and got appointments. One place ended up cancelling because they did not get the vaccine, but another, Mason and Partners, came through.

Dan and I got our first doses of the Moderna vaccine in February. Tears welled in my eyes when the nurse inserted the needle into my arm. I imagined the vaccine coursing through me. After this long night of pandemic darkness, I sensed the approach of dawn. We were scheduled for second doses on March 4.

The night before our second shot appointments, we could not sleep, so worried were we that Mason and Partners would not have our doses. We had talked about this day, planned for this day for so long. After coffee, we left the house, got into rush hour traffic, and made it out to Manassas early. There we joined a short line of other anxious people in front of the clinic door. All of us waiting, hoping the clinic had the magic elixir that would give us back our lives.

Finally, a male volunteer with a clipboard opened the door and asked, “Is anyone here for first shots?” A few raised their hands. “So, everyone else is here for second shots?” he asked. I swallowed hard and took in what his words meant: they had the vaccine!

Once we made it inside the door, I thanked a young man who was volunteering. He said to me, “I’m just glad to be part of the solution. If we fight this together, we’ll overcome this thing.”

I believe his words. Never in my lifetime have I experienced anything like this pandemic. It has shaken me to my core, changed me in ways I still don’t understand, and inspired me when I see how health care workers and essential workers have sacrificed for others. No single country has suffered as great a pandemic failure as the United States. 1 in 3 Americans knows someone who died of covid-19. Over 500,000 Americans have lost their lives to the coronavirus. And even as we pass more than two million vaccinations given daily, the suffering and dying here continues.

On March 4, when I got my second dose of the vaccine, I remembered the lives lost. I thought about how most died alone in terrible pain. And a deep gratitude filled me that I had not contracted the virus nor had most of those I love. My dear friend, who did, survived it.

After the nurse gave me my injection, I felt lighter as if an incredible burden had been lifted. Fighting the pull of tears, I managed to say to my nurse, “Thank you. You saved my life.”