Ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you that when it comes to being medicated, I’m nearly a virgin. I pretty much stopped getting vaccines as soon as Mom couldn’t spank me for refusing to get one. I take no prescriptions, and I resist the temptation to pop a Tylenol or aspirin when my back aches or my head starts pounding. I find that Irish whiskey is the cure for (and probably cause of) most of my ailments.
But more than a half-million Americans have died of the Covid-19 virus in the past year, including a nice lady I knew. Brenda died before a vaccine was available, so I felt I owed it to her to get poked, if for no other reason. In some small way, I wanted to feel that she hadn’t died in vain, so I changed my ways and got my first vaccine last week. (Thank you, Brenda. Miss you.)
Getting the vaccine is easy, everyone told me, once you wade through the maddening hoop-hopping to get scheduled. And it doesn’t really hurt at all.
But they didn’t need to tell me that, because it wasn’t fear of needle pain that had kept me clear of all those yearly flu shots. It was the gunk they were shooting into my veins I was leery of. But because this pandemic is like flu on steroids, the vaccine was way better than the alternative of dying. It was an easy decision to change my ways this time around.
But I can’t say that the experience itself was easy.
As my car idled endlessly in line, waiting as I inched toward the place where the injections took place as you sit in your car, the engine overheated, steam belching from under the hood. I turned the ignition off until they waved me ahead, and when I started the engine back up, my key fob broke in the lock. I sputtered up to the injection station and turned off the motor. It was almost as if I were destined to be denied the vaccine.
But that’s the problem, I guess, when your car is the age of a high school senior. You know who high school seniors are, don’t you? They’re the ones driving cars way better than mine.
Fortunately, I was able to get the key out of the ignition, and I pulled my spare key out of the glove box. I carry a spare because this isn’t the first time my key fobs have broken. I’ve managed to put them back together with Super Glue and thought the problem had been solved, but I guess not. I might have to break down and buy a new one, even though those electronic keys cost more than a lawn mower.
So I barely noticed when the needle slipped into my arm because I had much bigger problems to stress over, including how to move ahead once my vaccine was over, because now the car was so hot it wouldn’t start.
A cop car with cow-catchers on the front pushed me ahead to a place where I could sit and let the engine cool off, which was fine since they wanted me to sit still for fifteen minutes or so before heading home anyway. They say that’s so they can monitor whether you have any adverse reactions to the vaccine, but I think they use that time to program the micro-chip the government has just injected in your veins to keep watch over your every movement. Anyway, that’s what my RepubliQan friends say is the reason they’ve decided not to get the vaccine.
While I waited, I lifted the hood and poured some water into the radiator when it was cool enough to screw off the cap. I felt a bit light headed as I did it and wondered if it was a symptom of the vaccine, but decided it was nothing more than the stress of wondering how I would get home if the key or the cooling didn’t do the trick.
Fortunately, after fifteen minutes or so, I turned the key and the engine purred to life. I drove home, eyeing the temperature gauge the whole way, and made it home with no further problems.
So, yeah, getting my first vaccine was a breeze. It was so easy, I can already feel my teeth grinding as I anticipate my next vaccine visit in a month.
Anyway, I hope my first dose was the one with the government-tracking microchip in it, because if my car breaks down on the way to get my second shot, they’ll know just where to find me.
Author, musician and storyteller TR Kerth is a retired teacher who has lived in Sun City Huntley since 2003. Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com. Can’t wait for your next visit to Planet Kerth? Then get TR’s book, “Revenge of the Sardines,” available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online book distributors.
