Conscientious Injector

This week I drove my husband for his first Covid shot at a FEMA vaccination site in downtown Los Angeles. 

It was at L.A. City College and during our circuitous 15-minute maneuver through the campus we passed any number of friendly young military men and women dressed in fatigues, all wearing face masks.

I couldn’t pick any of them out of a crowd but trust me when I tell you I never saw so many welcoming faces happily pointing me in the right direction, not even when I attended gay night at Disneyland in the 1990s (Note: Yes, this WAS a thing), though admittedly that was close.

same vibe #gayhappydance

Still, as a very young kid in the sixties this all threw me for a loop.  My association with college campuses and the military dates back to the Vietnam War and nationwide protests against its actions at places like Kent State University where four innocent students who just happened to be walking by were famously killed by National Guardsmen shooting blindly into a crowd trying to control them.

Oh, get over yourself, Chair,I told myself as we reached the vaccination tent and I realized the guy I love would soon be protected from Covid, in some part thanks to the work of these soldiers.

This was further confirmed when this REALLY HOT Army medic emerged with a clipboard and approached our car to give my husband his shot.

DId someone say hot army medic? #imlistening

Yeah, he was a really strapping and really handsome guy in fatigues operating at the height of efficiency who knew his way around a needle so…what else would YOU call him?

In any event, it was all over before you knew it, and certainly way before either of us was ready to let the medic go.  But being a medic he had other people to save and clearly nothing was going to stop him from his mission.

I say this only half in jest because this vaccination center run by the government and in some part by the military feels so incongruous with the experiences of so many of us in this country.

Not the shots I normally think of when I think National Guard

Either we have a knee jerk reaction against anything government run or we have a knee jerk suspicion about the use of the military in everyday civilian life.

And yet, here we are.

In 2021 we live in a world where people of either belief system now have, or are about to have, a concrete experience that could cause us to rethink our prejudicial views towards institutions, people and programs that we thought were forever engrained in our psyches.

I mean, if a generation of conservatives grew up feeding on the famous Reagan philosophy that the most terrifying words in the English language are, I’m from the government and I’m here to help, we liberals are not much better.

True for many

Particularly if you’re a baby boomer liberal, there is not much faith military leaders will steer young people towards anything but death and destruction in unjustified wars.

Okay, well at least this baby boomer.  I’ll come forward.   And with mandatory lie detector tests so will the majority of everyone else from my generation.

It was Pres. Biden’s ambitious plan upon taking office that we’d vaccinate 100 million people, meaning 1 million people per day, by the end of his first 100 days.  But since taking office Jan. 20th he’s now got us at an average of 2.3. million shots administered daily.  Meaning, we will reach that goal by the end of the coming week, which is a little more than half that projected amount of time.

WE DID!

That’s far ahead of schedule and, with the use of the Defense Production Act to make more vaccines (plus a coordinated effort to harness the power of the federal government to run many hundreds of additional testing sites), it is now likely the vast majority of Americans will have received their vaccines by the summer.

At that pace, Dr. Anthony Fauci predicts, the U.S. could achieve the holy grail of herd immunity against Covid-19 by the end of the summer.

Me, this summer

And all because the majority of us decided to drop a few of our prejudices and agree about a couple of things like mask-wearing, social distancing and a new strategy to try and end a pandemic that’s closed down most of the country and most our lives.

I’m not gonna say imagine what else we can do but I am going to write it.

In fact, I just did.

This does not mean we should go around tooting our horns quite yet.  Several states, led by the ubiquitous Florida, have dropped mask mandates altogether, opened up businesses entirely and are encouraging mass gatherings likes concerts, spring break  parties at the beach, and probably a ticker tape parade right down the center of the state if they could manage it.

Pretty much

But let’s not tar and feather only Florida.  A day after our medic meeting I had to go to the dentist (Note:  Yes, I’ve gotten BOTH of my shots) and saw three tables full of maskless people in their 20s and 30s, pushed up against each other at a patio restaurant, sharing spit and god knows what else as I heard them go on and on about everything EXCEPT the biggest issue of the day.

An afternoon dog walk followed where I saw more than several small bunches of people traipsing up and down the hill near my house, gabbing on their phones as they obliviously tried their best, or their worst, to get as close to me as they could as they passed me by.

THE WORST

God knows what they thought of my double-masked self, crossing the street as fast as I could to get away from them. 

But I know what I thought.

Variants.  Variants.  Variants!!!  What the f-k is wrong with all of you?  Don’t you get it?  Yet????

It was enough to make me wish there was a way to report them to the government. 

Or at the very least sic the military on them.

Jimi Hendrix – “The Star Spangled Banner”

Check out the Chair’s newest project, Pod From a Chair , now available on Apple Podcasts and Spotify!

COMING SOON: THE CHAIR ON THE OSCAR RACE! Subscribe for updates!

Just Give Me a Shot!

The Chair is eligible for a COVID vaccine and, after many, many, many MANY tries, finally got an appointment for the first shot on Monday.  This is no small thing for someone who lives in Los Angeles, the national epicenter for COVID infection during the month of January. 

screams internally

There are good things and bad things about being eligible right now to get the shot.

1. Bad: You are, for the most part, in a very high-risk group of getting infected and perhaps dying from the disease.

2. Good:  There IS a vaccine and, with any luck, soon everyone will get one.  So in essence, it’s all good.

But LUCK is the key word. 

Another is PRIVILEGE.

JUST DON’T SAY OLD!

Still another is comedy of errors, if one can find humor in such things.

And if one were REALLY cynical (Note: And at this point, who isn’t?) one might also add key words and phrases like:

  1. Herculean, near impossible, challenge
  2. Severe disorganization
  3. Sheer, near criminal, incompetence of the prior Administration, or
  4. Sheer, purposeful and actual criminal indifference (Note: And perhaps willing passive genocide of the masses) by the prior Administration in order to open up the economy (Note: Admittedly a hair-brained scheme and one that didn’t work) in order to remain in power

Still, I digress.

Catharsis

It is not lost on anyone sane (Note: which eliminates at least two newly elected U.S. congresswomen) that after less than two weeks of a Biden-Harris Administration there is now a national vaccination plan by the federal government and a seemingly miraculous surge of shots in arms. (#MiracleORMedicine?)

That is, if you can figure out how to get one in a nation of 328 million people.

This is where luck AND ingenuity comes in.

Not entirely incorrect

It might be strangely reassuring to some that many wealthy, privileged and even famous people are having as much trouble booking an appointment at this point as the next guy or gal.

Except Cher.  I’m sure Cher has gotten one.  And frankly, she deserves it for making it this far. 

Please, the COVID vaccine WANTS Cher! #queen

Though on second thought, I doubt even COVID would have had a chance of stopping either her or, say, Keith Richards.  Nevertheless, pandemic past as prologue best not to tempt fate.                       

Which brings us back to ingenuity and luck, something those two know something about.

(Note:  Those are random names that came to mind.  Please feel free to substitute anyone you know OR don’t know but have feelings about, even yourself).

SHOTS FOR DAMES!

Among the people I know in my COVID vaccine eligible group, which is many, I’m one of the last, if not THE last, to procure an appointment. 

I registered at the county site, emailed doctors, stayed in touch with a hospital I’ve had other shots and procedures at, scoured social media and even begged friends to give me their secret. 

Bupkus.

No appointments, no openings in your area…

NOOOOO

Well, at one point there was something at a sketchy clinic I never heard of in an area I was unfamiliar with.  And after living in L.A. for almost four decades, that’s really saying something.  But even there, I was told I could get one shot but for the second I was on my own.

That means the clock would start ticking every day for 21 days after getting that first injection and the Hunger Games shoot for the next vaccine would start all over again.

He knows it’s true

I figured the stress of that could do me in sooner than COVID given my personality type so I decided, um, no. Thank you, next.

Then two people in a row I knew booked, then another, then three more.

Chair, I told you to type in the place I just signed up at.  They HAVE appointments!!!

No, they f-n don,’t, I replied.  It says, no appointments are available, check back later.  I’m not an idiot!

Nor am I lucky.  OR ingenious.  That’s even less debatable than the Jewish Space Laser aimed at California that caused the wildfires several months ago.

Meanwhile, parents of acquaintances, Facebook friends of friends I didn’t know who lived nearby, even some people I heard about who weren’t sure they wanted a shot to begin with but just figured, ah the heck with it, , I guess if they’re offering, were posting photos with their names, first vaccine date verified, and second appointment confirmed, everywhere I looked.

Meanwhile, I have now not used my car in two weeks, a near impossible feat in a town in the City of Dreams.  Or, well, former dreams.

Though, where would I be going anyway during this surge upon a surge where no one of my age or medical condition can drive or walk down the street without someone shaking their head in pity.

Excuuuuuuuuse me?

But here’s the good news.  Again.  I wasn’t sick.  Or dead.  Yet.

But nor was I as smart as I thought I was.  Perhaps I was no longer smart AT ALL.  And NEVER WAS.

What I can say I’ve always been is determined and relentless.  Meaning in a new burst of energy, I was now checking the county and hospital websites at least five times a day (Note: Okay, maybe six or eight),  I was even getting more positive thinking.  I KNEW I’d get that little sucker of an appointment soon.  It was just a matter of perseverance.  Hell, I’d eked out a Hollywood writing career by mostly not giving up.  This would be a piece of cake compared to that.

MOVE

Or so I told myself.

Which is why this week I almost lost it.  After checking the online site that very morning I drove (Note: Finally!) to a medical appointment with my urologist (Note: Over share, I know) and while I was in the exam room waiting for my doctor,  I got a text from a close friend  saying she had LITERALLY JUST REGISTERED for a shot at THIS PLACE and to DO IT NOW!

Me, all week

Well, I had already given my sample, so I figured, oh, who cares, if a nurse comes in wanting something else they’ll understand.   I start typing on my phone but you know about Internet signals in medical buildings, right?

 But why had I just received my friend’s text and now couldn’t….

Oh, screw this sideways and backwards.  And this time I mean it.

I put my phone away, swearing I’d now NEVER get the vaccine, out of spite.

Of course, that didn’t happen because as soon as you give up on something a door opens (Note: Especially when you don’t care anymore.  I should have remembered this from all the bad relationships I had in my twenties). This weekend my sister texted me that a guy posted on Twitter that CSUN (California State University at Northridge) had just opened a number of appointments.

I type in my zip code.  Nothing.  Then I thought to type in the Northridge zip code.  Something.

Well hello Chair, choose your date and time!!  Pfizer or Moderna?

Cut to me singing Age of Aquarius

All this is to say, it’s not you.  It’s THEM.  And no, it shouldn’t have to be this hard.

Until then my best advice is this:

Fight every battle like you’re Cicely Tyson in the sixties and seventies.

She was a goddess.  I had to.

RIP MS. TYSON (1924-2021)

Cast of Hamilton – “My Shot”