Vaccine or Virus?

Vaccine or Virus?

I won’t lie. It was scary. I pulled into the parking garage of a hockey stadium that no longer existed. There were men and women dressed in medical PPE of all colors. They looked alien-like with their masks on with only their eyes visible. I signed up for this and I wasn’t going to back out now. A dark-skinned man with kind eyes approached me with a cart. He verified my name, address, and age. Then, he verified that my forms had been signed and filled out correctly before finally asking me, “Which arm?”

“Don’t I have to do the left because I’m on the driver’s side?” I asked.

“No, you can just turn the right shoulder toward me,” he said, stating what seemed rather obvious to me now. I felt a bit stupid, but I wasn’t the one administering injections. So, I removed my sweater (I had on a tank top underneath in preparation for this moment) and turned my right shoulder toward the open window of my driver’s side car door. He took out the syringe and I looked away. He pinched the flesh of my arm after he had swabbed it first with alcohol and gave me the first of a my COVID-19 vaccine shots.

He told me what to do if I started to exhibit symptoms and then walked away, heading to the car parked behind me. As I sat in my SUV alone waiting the recommended 15 minutes. I tried to concentrate on good things. Truthfully, I was scared that I would become a part of the small percentage of people who had allergic reactions and possibly die as a result.

“But you’re not allergic to anything.” I told myself aloud more than once. I’m not. I can pet dogs and cats and smell a whole garden in spring time without so much as a watery eye or a running nose. I have no known food allergies either, so there was really no reason to think that I would be one of those people. As the thoughts came and went, the 15 minutes were spent and the taillights of the car in front of me illuminated because their engine had started. I waited until I was told, before I started mine.

Update: I am fine.

I wrote this next part in August 2020, having only dreamed of this day:

If I remember the aforementioned statement, I should be just fine. Well, if I remember that, my mask, latex gloves, hand sanitizer, face shield/googles, disinfectant spray and to keep 6 feet away from everyone at all times. Thank God, I tested negative for COVID-19 last month. I pray that I am still dodging the sometimes fatal infected droplets that have killed more than half a million people worldwide. In my wildest dreams, I never imagine that THIS would happen. By now, most of us are over the initial shock and the mental havoc the virus caused. Most of us are okay. Just being more careful and staying safe. But some of us aren’t okay.

Funeral Arrangments

 THE FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS

My mother is planning her funeral. 

After an unexpected life-threatening heart procedure, she sees her mortality in full color like rainbows broadcast on high definition movie screens. 

Her voice is calm and steady when she tells us, her 3 daughters, what she wants. A memorial service, where her casket is not present. 

“Of course, my immediate family can see my body, but I don’t want to be on display for everyone,” she says as she sets down her reading glasses. 

She looks fine. She is fine. The topic is the one that seems a bit sick. It’s wrong to discuss the end of someone’s life with such practicality, isn’t it?

So, I have to talk to her in a light off-handed way as if we are discussing the weather or a new pair of shoes. I almost, ask her what she wants to be buried in, a dress, a pantsuit, heels, flats or barefoot?  But I don’t. I can’t. I’m afraid she will, tell me not to worry about it and then go out and shop for her own burial outfit. This thought churns my stomach. She loves to shop. I have fond childhood memories of going with her to malls and stores, happy to be along for the ride. I was excited that even though, I didn’t have a dime, if I saw something I wanted and pleaded long enough, she would buy it for me. Of course, now, I love to shop, and it is no surprise that the sight of price tags dangling from garments may as well be Christmas trees with precious ornaments. 

“I didn’t select a fancy coffin,” she says as if to warn us. “I didn’t choose a silk lining either.”  

“You can buy a vault that allows water just inside the bottom or one that allows water completely inside.” She explains with the same flat expression. At first the image of mom in water is disturbing but then blooms into a serene image of the ocean.  I let her choose. It’s easier. 

I urge you, make arrangements prior to a loved one’s death, if possible. Sort out all the decisions with a clear mind and then when it’s time to grieve you can do just that, and that alone.