I was vaccinated in May against Covid-19. First shot: no problem, just a touch of soreness in one arm.
Second shot: I have never heard of anyone in my circle having a reaction as amazingly “robust” as mine. My fever soared to 102 degrees, my muscles felt as if someone had beaten me up with a steel bat, and I felt like a sodden pancake, unable to get up, and in the worst pain of my entire life. Plus, my arm hurt. Plus I had chills and chattering teeth so intensely that I put a washcloth between my upper and lower teeth so that I would not break them. In two days, I was better, though it took a while for all the muscle soreness to fade.
I still wear my mask out partially because my child is still unvaccinated, and also because I have not had a cold all year, nor the flu, nor any respiratory illness, and less allergy symptoms. For someone with asthma, whose lungs were damaged (even more than they were before) in the CZU fires last year (I now use a steroid inhaler on top of my rescue inhaler), this "filtered life" has been wonderful. No pneumonia! No bronchitis! No trips to the ER for breathing treatments in the middle of being sick! No lupus flare-ups from a body taxed by “ordinary” viruses! I’ll glue a mask to my face to avoid those things. With the state of my lungs now, I would love to lower my experience of respiratory illness.
And you know what? It’s nobody’s business who, among vaccinated people, chooses to still wear a mask. I know two biologists who are still wearing them and will do so until the virus is diminished worldwide—not just in the US. Their explanation? Viruses mutate ALL THE TIME. It’s in their nature, it’s what they do to insure that they stick around. And there might be immunity from most vaccines to the variants right now, but perhaps not to one that crops up later. Here is a decent article (albeit from January 2021) on this subject:
Even six months later, I’m hearing too many variables about the longevity of the vaccine: it confers lifetime immunity; immunity will fade and everyone will need a booster shot (good luck getting everyone on the planet to do THAT one); it is unclear how long immunity lasts from the vaccine. Etc.
My response to people not wearing masks? I don’t care what they do. It’s none of my business. And what I do is none of theirs.
Do I go anyplace these days? Heck, I never went anywhere before, and I am crowd-phobic anyways. Make no mistake: I plan to get back to going to museums, concerts (outdoor for now here in Santa Cruz), the Monterey Bay Aquarium, etc (I seem to gravitate towards museums and aquariums in my ‘old age,” lol). But I’ll be masking. It’s nobody’s business if someone chooses to stay home more than they did in the “before-Covid” time. Some folks have made profound life changes and have found they actually like being home more, and not rush around hither and thither. I’m one of those. The small things mean much more to me now.
Plus, I lost ten pounds during the lockdown and have no desire to return to coffeehouse or most restaurant food. I’m going to be the weird person who eats an apple when they go to a coffeehouse to write. The two times I had a cookie outside the home, it tasted cloying because my taste buds had not had sugar in so long. Lots of changes, many of which I hope will be good for my health.
Granted, I am raising a kid and believe me, my days during the pandemic have been very full, with online school and such. And I worked my tail off on my romantic comedy, The Pleasure Palace. First draft is a couple of chapters from being done.
In other news, recently I made the decision to pay for my (hopefully very distant) cremation, and the crypt where my ashes are going to go (at the Tesla of burial sites: the Mariposa Garden at Santa Cruz Memorial Park. Figure it’s a good place for my children, friends, and relatives to visit, if ever they do. Nearly every death in my immediate family has been sudden, and death is expensive. We do what we can for our loved ones, but my experience has been that the money-clock starts ticking the minute you walk into the funeral home and I have no desire to put a financial burden on my loved ones.
It’s sobering to actually see my “final home.” I’ve cheated the Grim Reaper many, many times but realize that one day my luck is going to run out. It’s augured in the sense that I do not have endless time to do the things I want...and while I plan and dream of travel and such, at the same time I realize how majestically absurd this life is. It is important to fill the well of the psyche up, but one day all those experiences will end. Seeing one's own resting-place is like having The Ghost of Christmas Future visit--only the spectre in this scenario has a definite hippie vibe, and the resting-place is not a grave in a desolate cemetery, but a niche in a lovely, curving brickwork wall, in a garden with a fountain, a pond, a beautiful, lush flowering cherry tree. "It all ends," says the Hippie Reaper. "What will you do with the rest of your time on this planet?"
It’s sobering on one level, and quite freeing on the other!
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