Getting vaccinated is the best decision for me, my family

As I drove my minivan into the vaccination drive-thru line one cold night last week, I anxiously waited for someone to come take my temperature and my health information.

“Here we go,” I thought to myself, as I pondered how the COVID-19 vaccine works, whether it really changes your DNA, whether I would have any after-effects or whether I would truly feel any different.

As I drove toward the vaccination tent, I thought about my friends who have lost a parent or grandparent, an uncle or a cousin during this horrible pandemic.

I thought about my 89-year-old grandmother, who I’ve only been able to visit through a window. She can’t leave her room because COVID is running rampant through her assisted living facility. She got her first shot, and is waiting on her second. My mother,

66, got her vaccine a few days before I was scheduled. I remembered that my in-laws, my dentist brother-in-law, my next-door neighbor, had all gotten their shots.

And now it was my turn.

As I inched closer to a man holding a thermometer, I felt grateful that my state had opened the vaccinations to those age 65 and older, plus educators

-- K12 and higher education -- grocery store workers, postal workers, daycare employees and other vital employees who are at risk. My husband and I both teach college students, so we were eligible for the shot. But I couldn’t help but question whether I should wait a little longer, until the vaccine was more widely available, until more people older than I am have had the chance to get theirs nationwide.

But then I thought of my three kids, ages 5, 9 and 11. I don’t have any pre-existing conditions and I’m 39, my husband is 42. But people younger than we are, healthier than we are who have died from this horrible virus. I would never forgive myself if, God forbid, I caught COVID and spread it to others who could die from it. I could never risk dying and leaving my children motherless, if I have the chance to get the vaccine.

And so I inched my van closer to the vaccination tent. I got my temperature taken, gave them my information. I signed the forms. I got my shot.

I took my shot.

Now it’s up to the rest of the country to decide if they will take theirs.

According to medical professionals, it will take months for the COVID-19 vaccines to be widely available to anyone who wants one -- likely by June. But with the coronavirus being a political button for debate, people are skeptical over the vaccine and how quickly it was developed. Some people plan to wait to see how others react. Others feel safer taking their chances with COVID-19. But ultimately, I did not.

During the last month, Alabama has had one of the highest positivity rates for COVID tests in the United States, at 29.1 percent, according to data from Johns Hopkins University. But in terms of the number of COVID vaccinations being administered, the state lags behind much of the rest of the United States, with only 10,013 doses per 100,000 people on Feb. 9, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

It could be due to a lack of trust in vaccines being distributed by the government. It could be a distrust of the vaccine itself, or the belief that the coronavirus really isn’t that bad. It could be that many people in Alabama don’t have the internet access to make vaccination appointments, or the transportation to get there. Or it could just be a general “make it on our own” attitude and stubbornness that my state seemingly takes pride in.

But in terms of ending the COVID-19 pandemic, the vaccine seems to be the best shot we have. And it was a shot that ultimately I decided to take.