After preregistering with two different agencies and waiting in a digital line for nearly an hour to make an appointment, I finally got my first Moderna shot at a wellness center.
Despite having a QR code in my confirmation email, the facility was “so small,” according to one of the employees, they didn’t have the equipment to scan the code. I was so tempted to point out that most smart phones had the capability to read a QR code with the camera function. Instead, I complied with their request to fill out paperwork on the germy clipboard with one of their germy pens. So much for contactless interactions.
I followed the taped blue arrows up the stairs, down the hall, around the corner and into a workout room, where four desk stations faced the wall-length mirror. Once seated beside one of the desks, I told the health care worker that since my mother had received her vaccination shot at a sports bar, I’d originally wanted my shot at a strip club. He suggested I set that up for my second shot. Then he mentioned that perhaps one of the other male health care workers would strip if I gave them a dollar. As if I had any money on me. Not even a dollar for a male stripper.
We laughed, but I offered to help him with a stripper name, using the tried and true formulation: childhood pet’s name and the street where he grew up. He had two choices for childhood pet names: Ashley or Freckles. “Of course, it has to be “Freckles,” I assured him. Since he grew up on Alabama Street, I got my first jab from “Freckles Alabama.”
Following another set of blue taped arrows to the observation room, which was a more convoluted path than getting to the vaccination room, I entered a space with subdued light. As the medic had instructed, I set my phone timer to 15 minutes. I read articles on my phone until the timer sounded. When I stood up to leave, my hands tingled. Maybe I had a slight fever, but I was definitely thirsty. I usually drink water throughout the day, but this sensation made me feel as if I hadn’t had any all day.
After all that, I walked down two flights of stairs, which seemed dangerous after receiving a vaccine that could potentially make someone dizzy. Unnecessarily, an employee bid me a “be careful,” as I pushed the glass door open to descend. Fortunately, I made it downstairs and to my car without incident, where my roommate waited to whisk me away. Ever since one of my cousins fainted at the wheel after getting her vaccine and awoke after hitting a utility pole, the rest of the family has made sure someone else drives us home.
I felt a little loopy, but not bad enough to avoid work. I drank far more water than usual while working my customer service job from home. I lasted about two hours before logging off for the day to eat dinner. Just to switch things up, I had a glass of coconut water instead of wine because of that slight fever. The vaccine worked its magic and got my immune system as COVID-resistant as possible.
As luck would have it, one of the latest streaming movies dropped on the same day I was vaccinated. “Godzilla vs. Kong”? Sure, why not? That was just what the situation called for in my loopy state: a non cerebral, CGI, action-filled movie where I could just strap in and enjoy the ride. It didn’t disappoint.
The vaccination discomfort didn’t prevent me from falling asleep. I partially woke up when I rolled onto the injection site. Other than that, I woke up feeling pretty good.
Originally, I was going to wait 48 hours before drinking wine, but I no longer felt feverish the next day. Except for soreness in my jabbed arm, everything felt back to normal. Even holding planks and doing other arm workouts during my virtual Inferno Hot Pilates class were no problem. So, I did my usual detox-retox routine, which consists of exercising in the middle of the day followed by lunch with a glass of wine.
After getting my second jab at the end of April, I’ll see how adventurous I can be while still braving this new world.
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