I woke up this morning before 7 am, which is not unheard of for me, but it is rare. That’s because today was my anxiety’s Christmas — I got my first vaccine shot.
I very rarely get sick. I can’t remember the last time I even had the slightest sore throat or stuffy nose. I attribute this to the many years I was coughed on and sneezed at ( and many other gross encounters) by a classroom full of three-year-olds who had questionable cleanliness habits at best. After the first year of wiping a small child’s snot off my face, my immune system said, “You’ve suffered enough; we’ll take it from here.”
I very rarely take any over-the-counter medicine. I have all of the usuals if needed—Tylenol, Tums, Pepto, Advil—but most of the time, it becomes expired before even a small dent has been made in the supply. This is partially due to my upbringing; my mom thought everything from a broken heart to a sinus infection could be cured with a shower and a mug of hot tea ( with lemon and a splash of Whiskey, obviously). And I tend to use this healing method too ( it does NOT work for broken hearts, believe me, I have tried).
So, it somewhat surprised me how excited I was to get a needle in my arm. I did a little happy dance in my kitchen when I finally got the appointment.
At the beginning of the pandemic, my anxiety was worse than it had been for a long time. Therapy had helped immensely ( Prior to therapy, I am not exaggerating when I say every day, in every public place I went to, I thought something bad would happen to me. It was exhausting.) A deadly virus that we knew so little about could not have been a worse scenario for someone whose anxiety mostly revolves around worrying they or the people they love will die.
Having to stay home was a breeze. I was mostly doing that anyway ( I know what an incredible privilege that is), and I am sometimes agoraphobic adjacent, so not having to interact with crowds of people was fine by me. But I was obsessed with what everyone else I knew was doing. I scheduled grocery pickups so my dad and stepmom wouldn’t go into the store. Jen would cough, and I’d start asking a million other questions about her health as if I were the intake nurse at a doctor’s office. As I watched Governor Cuomo’s daily press conferences about New York, I tried to prepare myself for what I felt sure was coming: Someone I love is going to die.
With the exception of Erin, who also has anxiety ( 10/10 would recommend having a best friend who has similar mental health issues), it seemed like everyone I knew was being reckless and not taking it as seriously as I thought they should. So, about 6 months in, I let them go. I assumed something would happen, and I mentally prepared myself for it as best I could. In total (that I know of), 12 members of my immediate and extended family got covid. Thankfully, they were all mostly mild cases, but in some ways, this seemed to reinforce the “It’s not that bad!” outlook.
I realize most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about death or talking about it in the way that I do. But over 500,000 Americans are dead. An unfathomable number. They were loved. Their lives mattered. And if this country were a little less obsessed with “personal freedom,” many of them would be alive. I can’t even comprehend getting pissed off about a piece of cloth over my face that may save a fellow human being’s life.
So for this Never Gets Sick And Doesn’t Even Like Taking Tylenol person, getting vaccinated was one of the easiest decisions of my life. For my own safety and everyone around me.
I don’t even know if I can fully capture the joy it gives me to be making plans with Erin. We will go to a crowded bar and dance with sweaty strangers! ( something we haven’t done in at least a decade). I will probably cry when I get my haircut! I’m getting my nose pierced again! And it is not just my joy. I cry at every photo of grandparents hugging their grandkids after a year of being away from each other, every photo of two friends meeting for the first time in 12 months for a beer; I cannot get enough of the hugging photos. I am going to hug the shit out of everyone I know.
Presumably, I will eventually go back to being a person who mostly likes to read at home with a glass of wine. Still, I cannot wait to be part of my old self again, the person that loved talking to strangers in bars and traveling and not worrying that I’m a ticking time bomb silently carrying a deadly virus.
Not everyone will be celebrating the return to “normal.” They will have lost too much in the past year — jobs, homes, a sense of security, people they loved. Please honor their lives by getting vaccinated.
If you are hesitant about getting vaccinated, I am happy to talk to you.
If you need help finding a vaccine appointment, please reach out.
I can’t wait to see and hug you all, and I am so thankful you are still here. Xoxo.