“We’ve got you covered, COVID-19”
Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 23/03/2021 (801 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.
I sat there, eyes moist, throat a bit tight – one among several well-distanced and masked tenants, with caring organizers milling about.
This was the day we’d been waiting for – Fri., Feb. 26, 2021, the day we’d receive our coronavirus pandemic vaccination at Dakota House Assisted Living quarters.
How small our planet has suddenly become. Good ol’ emotional me – it hit me that this procedure was happening all over the glove
A moment of truth, a “sudden realization” – an epiphany, if you will. I don’t think I’d ever thought of our planet that way before: a mere ball, with all people our neighbours, no matter where they lived. I don’t think I’d ever felt this close to people around the globe before.
Yet when all details are stripped away, we are neighbours; we are at one. We want to live, we want our families to survive us, and we wish the same to those beside us and beyond. And when we’re getting vaccinated, others are doing it, too, no matter where on Earth. In trying to protect ourselves against this latest scourge, COVID-19 has somehow brought us closer together.
The rest of that morning went very smoothly. I walked into the vaccination room, past the colourful balloons suspended from the ceiling with their baffling message (perceived earlier as “OOH” and “OOM”).
Well, whatever that means, I thought to myself. Those balloons did remind me of cheerful party times. When I looked again, the balloons had spun right side up again so that the printing actually read “WOO HOO.”
What could one do but smile?
The nurse escorted me to her table, assembled her vials and “daggers”, and before I had time to think unhealthy, unhelpful thoughts, I heard her say, “All done. We’re finished.”
Nothing to it. A breeze – an anti-climax. I can honestly say I had felt nothing except perhaps a very slight twinge as she pulled out the needle.
After a 15-minute, seated wait in the properly-spaced dining room, a cookie and glass of apple juice, it was time to go back to our suites.
It’s at critical times like these that we can strip away all superfluous thoughts and feel thankful that there are people in this world who have devoted their lives to the study of disease and come up with ways to help the general public. They come from all over the world, the world that had so suddenly shrunk for me as I sat and waited my turn for their gift of a protective inoculation. Folks, consider yourselves fortunate when your turn comes up.
Anne Yanchyshyn is a community correspondent for St. Vital. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org
St. Vital community correspondent
Anne Yanchyshyn is a community correspondent for St. Vital.