Before his hair fell out in clumps, I remember what the nurses said:
No plane flights.
No movie theatres.
No church.
No school.
And anyone who wants to spend time with your son needs a flu shot.
Avoiding movie theaters was easy enough. Withdrawing from school and skipping church was painful. But it was the instruction about flu shots that felt incredibly uncomfortable because it involved navigating other people’s choices.
When someone goes through chemotherapy they usually become immunocompromised which simply means their body has a much harder time fighting off illness and disease. For some children and adults, the body can even become neutropenic which greatly increases the risk of life-threatening infections. Regardless of whether the patient has received a flu shot, their best chance at not getting sick is staying home and making sure the people who come into their house have been vaccinated.
I remember the awkward texts. My husband, Jonathan, is also a cancer survivor. He usually did the communicating.
“Want to come over for dinner?” they’d ask.
“Are you all vaccinated?” he’d reply.
Many of our friends and family were accommodating, but a fair share had concerns about the flu vaccine and chose to ask if it was really necessary. Several decided to not vaccinate but keep their distance. We all have to make decisions that feel right for us, so I understood. When our kids were babies we spaced their vaccines apart and even delayed a few because I was hesitant about the mass load they were expected to receive the first year of life. I believe in scientific research but I also know the human body can be mysterious. I’d admit that we don’t know all the side effects of vaccines so I tried to not let others' medical decisions bother me. It wasn’t their fault my kid was sick.
But, needless to say, with two cancer survivors in my house we are TEAM VACCINE. Without vaccines, my family would have been at much, much greater risk of severe complications during cancer treatment and I am grateful for the medical advances that, while not perfect, have helped keep my family out of the emergency room.
The thing with cancer is that there are often some very significant scars that go beyond the literal “shark bite” line on my son’s abdomen. Being cured doesn’t mean you’re well. There are the emotional scars that have left us in counseling. There are the stiff joints and fingers. The high blood pressure. There was the hospital stay in January because of complications from a prior surgery. And that’s just our son’s issues. Jonathan has his own side effects that we’re still discovering, managing and grieving. I cannot imagine dealing with COVID on top of everything else.
While I intellectually know that each week my family’s risk of exposure goes down because of other’s decisions to get vaccinated, I would be lying if I didn’t say that it’s been hard for me to watch Jonathan wait for his turn. He’s gone to the office every day since the shutdown began but he’s not considered an essential worker. Across the street from his office, a drive-thru site is now vaccinating carloads of university students, who are eligible because they are student workers at a school that still doesn’t have in-person classes or gatherings. While I know college students’ weekend social behavior puts them at risk to our community, I can’t help but think of the families who’ve been quarantining for several years while their kids with acute myeloid leukemia go through treatment. It doesn’t seem fair that these parents aren’t yet eligible for a vaccine. When it comes to this vaccine, “earning it” shouldn’t be part of the vocabulary, and yet, no doubt there are people who have suffered more than others during the last year.
When I really push into my own emotions, “it’s not fair” is what I keep coming back to.
Lots of people are getting the vaccine who don’t really need it. Some even have “vaccine guilt.” There are people who are eligible but don’t feel like they should be, and those who aren’t eligible but have worked the system. There are those who aren’t technically childcare workers (but work at a church that runs a childcare center!) or don’t technically work in a classroom (but have their student teaching certificate!) or don’t technically work as a waiter (but they’re friends with a restaurant manager!)
I’ve learned that so long as I can find an available appointment (it took me a week of compulsive refreshing to find one for my husband), I too can join the vaccinated masses if I write down that I’m a teacher. After all, I am technically homeschooling my kids, right? And I’m not unhealthy but technically my kids are…doesn’t that count for something? My friend Sarah currently manages a large vaccine site and she put it this way: we’re talking about the inherent nonsense of the technicalities. If you want more technical thoughts on this topic, check out Scientific American’s article, COVID Vaccine Rollout Pits Fairness Against Speed.
But, whether I stretch the truth to get a spot now, or wait patiently until late spring, neither option feels good. I’m sitting in the tension that we’ve all wrestled with this year: whether our national and local public health officers are making the right choices to benefit the most people while we wait for herd immunity. For now, I have my name on an overflow list at the pharmacy and hope to receive a coveted “You’ve won the lotto” phone call offering me a same-day appointment.
We’ve all done so much to care for the vulnerable over the last year. We’re tired. We’re ready to resume life as normal where we host dinners with friends and send our children to school without worry. As I struggle with these feelings and choices, I’m choosing to do it publicly because I think the conversation matters. It matters because maybe putting COVID behind me is thinking far too narrow. Maybe, grappling with not getting what I want, when I want it, can give me insight into how often others are not prioritized or given equal access to the benefits I’ve always had at my fingertips. While my family does have underlying conditions, the numbers continue to show that our black and brown neighbors are dying at greater numbers even without underlying conditions. It really isn’t fair. Am I concerned for them in the same ways I am for my own family?
Yesterday I received an email from MyTurn Volunteers, the State of California’s effort to get all 58 counties vaccinated. In it, they gave a few simple ways we can help everyone, especially the vulnerable, have access to the vaccine:
Check on four neighbors to see if they need help making their vaccine appointment on myturn.ca.gov.
Post flyers on community forums and around your neighborhood offering to drive neighbors to their vaccine appointment.
Post a selfie driving your neighbor to their appointment.
I would also add this: if you are eligible, please, please get vaccinated. People like my family are counting on you! Many pharmacies have overflow vaccines at the end of the day. If you or someone you know is in a high risk, high exposure category consider helping them research how to access these vaccines and/or how to check pharmacy sites for appointments. I’m grateful for a few good friends who pointed me to ideas of where I can (hopefully!) get vaccinated soon too.
Photo by Diana Polekhina on Unsplash