At 10 AM last Tuesday, I received a call from my manager at the grocery store where I work. The store pharmacy had three openings for COVID vaccinations, and if I got there by 1 I’d receive one.
The store is two miles from my home. I was there at 10:15.
My appointment for tomorrow is no long necessary and has been cancelled. Second and final shot has been scheduled for April 13. Since it takes two weeks after the second shot to develop full immunity to COVID, I have 4/27 marked on my mental calendar as the day I can resume my communal physical activities — returning to the gym, the Pilates studio, and most important of all, the fencing club.
In May, my wife will receive her fourth shot in the vaccine lab study she’s enrolled in. It’s a double-blind study, where one group is given two shots of a placebo at the start and the other receives the vaccine; two more shots are administered a month later, with the group roles reversed. She’ll either be vaccinated by the end of May, or find out she’s been vaccinated since March.
She asked me the other day if I’d feel comfortable going to a restaurant once we’re both fully inoculated. I told her I could do it with outdoor seating, but being indoors with the pandemic still in effect, without knowing whether vaccinated people can still spread the virus, doesn’t sit well with me.
We also received our COVID stimulus checks from the federal government last week. Unlike the previous two payments, this time college-aged dependents were included.
My elder son is home after graduating in December, and is working as a delivery driver for a pizza chain. He took on extra shifts last week because order volume was higher than usual — a result, he was told, of the stimulus checks.
Americans get money from the government and splurge on fast food. Sometimes the jokes write themselves in this country.