A friend texted yesterday to tell me that Indian Health had lowered their vax requirements; anyone over 50 is now eligible. They’re prioritizing the Native community because of course they are, but any overflow is going into any and all available arms. Said friend (who is over 60) thought they’d try to get on the list.
“That ain’t right,” I thought. “My best friend works retail and has to deal with the public every day. He has regular interactions with people who won’t wear a mask, won’t keep their distance. He needs this thing way more than…” and then my brain started to shut down.
Apparently, you can get the vax if you are in a multi-generational household with a person who has fragile health. I had been pondering the idea of going to visit my mom, who has a lot of stuff going on, and seeing if I couldn’t get vaxxed through their county health program. At home—Indian Health aside—I can’t get this thing until very late phase. I’m healthy—OMG I’ve never been so healthy, I work at home, I live alone—I have none of the physical indicators required to bump me up the list. There are easily a million people more at risk of contracting Corona than I am.
I also really, really, really want to get vaxxed.
I have avoided most things indoors—restaurants, bars, movie theaters, friend’s houses, you name it—since March 2020. In November, after a complicated series of negotiations and delays I had a quarantine buddy for two weeks; that was the first time anyone had been in my home, except to use the bathroom, since March, 2020. Last year I made two trips to visit my mom to be backup after she’d had surgery; both trips sucked not just because my mom was having a hard time, but because the things I did when I’d go visit before weren’t available to me. I was stuck in a place not my home with nothing to do, nowhere to go. In July, 2020, I spent two nights in a hotel room in Leavenworth, Washington, a fireworks free town in the Cascade Mountains. I’d gone to get my dog away from the noise of Independence Day (he hates fireworks). It was terrible, there were too many people around, it did not feel safe, so I ended up spending the bulk of my stay in my mediocre hotel room eating food I’d brought with me. I do two things inside: the occasional shopping trip for groceries and household necessities, and the YMCA. The only place I’ve seen stricter protocol than the YMCA is at the doctor’s office, where I went to (finally) get my shingles vaccine after over a year on the waiting list. Everything, anything I do indoors is masked, everything else I do is outdoors.
I fucking hate it.
The Indian Health thing made me want to scream. This underprivileged population is bailing out NPR listeners while retail employees go to work each day and have to ask, over and over, people to pull their masks up over their noses, to step back, to wait, please, we’re at capacity. Indian Health is bailing out the hyper-connected and hyper-informed while teachers have to argue that it’s not safe for them to return to school yet. How dare People Like Me get in line in front of, well, anyone who has to take the bus, or has to go to work on a production line or… the list goes on and on.
Among the things I hate about this stupid era—and there are so many— is the constant grappling with ethics. I like to think I am an ethical person, I like to think that when confronted with ethical dilemmas I may not do the right thing right away, but I land there given a hot minute to think it over. This vaccine thing has me tied in knots over what I need to stay healthy and sane and what’s right.
There’s a piece on Scientific American that makes a solid case for my sitting down and waiting my turn; there’s another on the New York Times that says every single person who gets vaxxed moves us closer to not having to do this anymore.
I’m so tangled up in the nuance of decision that when I read the NYT take, I think, “Well, they say if you’re offered the vaccine, which is not the same as seeking out ways to work the system so I can get it.” Getting shortlisted with Indian Health or putting myself into a short term scenario in which I qualify for the vaccine isn’t the same as being offered the vaccine, right? Or is it?
We are surrounded by people acting so very selfishly. They won’t stay home, they argue about masks, there was that group in LA who interfered with the vaccination clinic because… I’m unclear on why. They wanted to prevent other people from getting vaccinated because… ?
None of it makes any sense. All of it makes my head hurt. Indian Health seems to have adopted a community first war effort mentality towards getting people vaccinated. I suspect we will, as history has always shown, refuse to learn from our Native neighbors. I can get bagels from New York and sewing machine needles from Germany and a crocheted Baby Yoda doll in less than a week, but I had to wait a year for a shingles shot, and who knows how long I’ll have to wait for a Corona shot.
I know, I know, false equivalency. I know. But we have the systems in place to build and distribute things I don’t need; are we not smart enough to apply that logic to building and distributing things I do need? It’s not just me that needs it, it’s every single human on the planet.
I am waiting my turn. I am looking for ways to jump the line. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had a hug since March, 2020.
I have no idea what the right thing to do is.
UGH!! My sister from another mother, you wrote my feelings .. as an introvert, I never thought I’d crave hugs and human interaction (my dogs do their best to fulfill this tho!) as much as I do over this past almost year. I think every grocery store, delivery (usps, ups, fedex, etc.), first responder, health care worker should be first and I wish that the vaccines were in the hands of Costco/Safeway/Walgreen pharmacies as well since they do this so well (there would be no ‘your a rich donor, here’s your shot’). Between waiting for a vaccine to be developed, then waiting for enough of it to go around – wanting to ‘jump the line’ is something I totally get.
I’m content with waiting my turn. There are 622,000 people in front of me in my city of not quite 900,000, so I’m not happy about it, but my covid-companion and I can control our risk at home, and it’s the Right Thing To Do.
I do wish that people who aren’t in a household with a vulnerable person now, but who need to travel to help elderly relatives soon, were higher on the list. My Covid companion HAS TO travel by mid-April, by which time the more threatening variants will be widespread, and that terrifies me.
I fantasize about jumping the line for him. I don’t think I’d do it if it were under my control, but, but, but – but he wouldn’t queue-jump, so that’s that.
I really appreciate what you have said about morality pandemic times here and elsewhere.
I feel the same as you. one trick i’ve used to make me feel slightly less impatient: the later i get the vaccine, the more robust it will be against the new variants.
Oooh, I like that way of thinking, Sarena. That’s good.