To thwart COVID, everyone must be an Avenger
There ought to be a word for those of us who’ve gotten the first dose of a COVID-19 vaccine but haven’t yet built up the full protection that comes two weeks after the final dose (what should be May 14 for me).
Since this word doesn’t exist, most of us call ourselves vaccinated, which is misleading.
Though I haven’t been formally deputized by Dr. Fauci and the CDC, I’ve taken up the charge of explaining that full vaccination doesn’t exist until two weeks after the final dose.
I wander the streets like a Shakespearean soothsayer warning people to “beware the ides of shots” and to heed the lesson of Geno Auriemma who quarantined for our sins before his glorious resurrection in the Sweet 16.
But now that I’m a few days out from getting the first dose of a Pfizer vaccine, I’m feeling firsthand the appeal of declaring myself vaccinated and resuming life from before times.
I’m not so caught up in it that I’m trying to French kiss the mail lady (read you loud and clear #metoo) but there’s an extra pep in my step (which may be the rush of hope replacing dread).
Anchoring my post-vaccine euphoria is the inescapable truth that, while full vaccination may be right around the corner for me, it’s still a long way off for my children.
A family is only as healthy as its least vaccinated child.
Adult vaccination isn’t the end of our fight against COVID-19 but it’s an important turning point. We’re hopeful our newborn will get antibodies from breast milk but only herd immunity offers a foreseeable path to protection for my 2-year-old.
All of my daughter’s surviving grandparents have already been vaccinated and the vast majority of her aunts and uncles are well on their way.
We’re assembling the herd, broadening the scope of people she can safely socialize with, and no longer fighting on our own.
This is the point in a superhero movie franchise when they start doing crossovers to foreshadow the final confrontation that takes each of our heroes to overcome.
Though we’re making great strides at reaching herd immunity here in Connecticut (anticipated as soon as mid-August), I’m not too hopeful about hitting it nationwide since I’ve seen the selfishness of places such as Texas and Florida.
A country is only as healthy as its least vaccinated region.
I don’t know what the solution is to get more Americans to step up for their fellow countrymen but I do know that my family will be better off for it.
Regardless, that’s something to worry about once I’ve reached full immunity, which I have not. For now, my focus is on enjoying the spring and making the most of my last few weeks of selfimposed isolation.
It seemed a bit too on the nose that I drove to my vaccine appointment this week in a bed of fog but left to radiant blue skies on a picture-perfect spring morning. Nobody does spring time quite like New England: manicured, reserved, tailored toward beauty and hope.
Thank you to the millions and millions of people who are answering the call for service every day by stepping up and getting vaccinated.
You’re all heroes.
Our country and our families are safer because of you.
Dark forces are throwing everything they can at us as we near the final confrontation (spring break, Wrestlemania’s two night super-spreader smackdown, Florida) but in the end we will prevail.
Because of you: earth’s mightiest heroes. You can’t save the world alone.