I got my second vaccine ten days ago. After the first vaccine, I felt some relief. But after the second vaccine my mind was overwhelmed with that feeling of, “It’s over.” Of course, intellectually, I know it’s not. I know there is a long way to go before everyone is vaccinated and who knows about all the variants in the future? It sounds like we are going to have to get booster shots every year. Some countries are still in the dark of night of the pandemic, like India. So, it’s not over and may never be. But on an emotional level, I couldn’t help but feel, “It’s over for me, suckers!”(I don’t know why I felt the need to add, “suckers,” in my head. Everyone there was also getting the vaccine. I also felt a need to pick up smoking. Not really. But I did have the thought, “I could now, if I wanted to.” Come to think of it, maybe this vaccine was a bad idea for me. I have been a lot more health conscious in the pandemic).
It’s not that I had zero trepidation about getting the vaccine. I understand that people have their reasons for not wanting to get it. The government has loved saying, “Believe in science!” But science has a long history of getting things right over time but wrong the first time. Medicine has a long history of unintended consequences. No matter what “they” say, it is hard to believe that all of the long-term consequences have been accounted for in less than a year. I understand this fear.
When I was in the Air Force in the early 2000’s, we were forced to get the anthrax vaccine. I have a cloudy recollection of anecdotes of people coming back from combat with non-descript symptoms that they were attributing to that vaccine. Some of them sounded long-term and debilitating. People started refusing the shots and getting into serious trouble because they couldn’t deploy. Then if I remember right, they quit mandating the vaccine. That still gives me pause. Why did they quit mandating it? Why did they quit mandating it after I already got it? I definitely feared that I was going to be part of a real-life science fiction movie where the military made “a mistake,” now all the people who got the shot were horrible mutants. I can report that after 20 years, I did not mutate or have anything wrong with me that I could directly attribute to that vaccine. Except for this tail (Upside: I can hold a Coke while typing. Downside: Pants are tough to shop for).
Another fear I have heard is about the nano-robots being injected into us for mind-control or something like that. I know it sounds crazy, but for some reason that idea stuck with me: The Illuminati or whoever “controls” the world might be using the vaccine as a vector to put some sort of mind-control device in us. Then I realized I had just spent a cumulative of three hours that day watching cat videos on YouTube. Whatever mind control the Illuminati needed was already in my pocket and it was controlling me daily. Same goes for the idea of a tracking device.
Then there is the basic fear of not wanting to feel crappy after getting the shot. I wrestled with this for a while. I have heard stories of some people who got COVID and their only symptom was they couldn’t taste or smell anything for a week (hey, that might even help with my diet goals). Then of course you hear of people who got the vaccine who swear they were on their deathbeds. If you are playing the game of craps with life and you happen to be one of the people who gets a really serious case of COVID or you give it to someone else who has serious issue, the overall consequences could be way worse than the vaccine. I looked at it like house insurance: sure, it might be painful to pay a hundred bucks each month up front and the likelihood of my house being blown down by a hurricane, tornado, or wolf is low. On the off chance a wolf comes knocking though, it’s less painful to pay upfront than to play pick-up sticks with your home.
So, you have to do all the math for yourself. Don’t forget about the risk of being socially shunned by all the people who are wonder, “Why didn’t you get the vaccine?” To me it seemed like the bigger risk was getting COVID than getting the vaccine. At the end of the day, I feel like a character from “The Sopranos,” accepting my fate and talking with my hands, “On the one hand, the vaccine might get you, but not that bad. On the other hand, if the COVID gets you, it really gets you, ya know? But if not that, the cancer or a car wreck. I mean, Whaddaya gonna do? You gotta get the vaccine.” (Then I put the last shovelful of dirt on the wiseguy lying dead in the hole and turn back to my partner, “You wanna try out that new sandwich place?”)
After ten days what do I have to report? I feel great. I feel relieved. I feel like all those worries that I had before the vaccine are in the rearview mirror. That isn’t to say that I didn’t feel like crap the day after the vaccine. I did. But as the 14 days after the vaccine timeframe creeps closer, my mind keeps replaying the Dr. Seuss book, “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!”(Well not the whole book. Just the title. I really don’t remember what the whole book says). For me? I have big plans to go to Europe, Asia, Alaska, the moon, and heck, maybe Mars too. But I am going to start with a restaurant. When the host asks if I want to eat inside or outside, my partner and I will look at each other and simultaneously say, “Inside. We got the vaccine.” Then I’ll turn to my partner and say, “You find us a table, I gotta wash this blood off my hands.”
