Divine Presence To Be Shot

Vaxxed!

Pfizer. Second shot scheduled in three weeks exactly.

Still can't believe my great good fortune.

The week before last, the whole scheduling system went under. Occasionally, a spar would drift by: a single appointment, say, at dawn in Deerfield (100 miles away in the Berkshires, and I have no car). This last Thursday, I started hunting at midnight. Nothing showed up until 8, and when I pounced, they vanished.

At elevenish, having spent 3 hours in the Kafkaesque maze that is the Massachusetts vaccination site, mocked by phantom appointments and randomly thrown into a "waiting area" with queues of up to 15,000 minutes (not joking), I gave up and lay down. Half an hour later, Beth Israel Lahey pinged me with an invitation. Could I do Monday? At 3? On my street? (All right, nearly two miles up my street, but still...)

Hell yes!

I have no idea how BILH got my name. They're part of the Byzantine complex of health facilities associated with my former employer, but I haven't met with any doctors there. I'll call it a miracle and leave it at that.

The blessed rushthatspeaks gave me a lift. I could have walked, but I rejoiced in their company: this was a rite of passage.

All very orderly and cheerful at the clinic, with balloons. I remarked on the administering nurse's cap, tie-dyed with paw-prints all over it. She said she was retiring as an OB to breed German short-hairs. "From babies to puppies."

An older patient, who must have been having her second shot, was asking: Can I really have a friend over? "For Scrabble and tea?"

Waiting afterwards to make sure I wasn't going into anaphylaxis (I wasn't), I watched this flash mob. A peaceful, joyful, singing crowd—what could be less like 2020?




I hope that all of you, your friends and families, will get your turns, as quickly as possible.  To arms!

Nine