This week I was overjoyed to be receiving my COVID booster shot. I am so thankful that science has allowed us to feel at least somewhat protected against this awful virus, and honestly, I’ll get a shot every month if it allows me to get back into the world.
On the day of my appointment, I headed down to my local Walgreen’s pharmacy. A young man wearing the light blue Walgreens pharmacy smock called my name and led me to the private room for my jab. I was prepared – I wore a sweater from which I could easily pull out my arm for the shot. But, under that, I had a long-sleeved tee shirt which, it turns out, was really tight on my arms. I pulled, I scrunched, I tugged some more. After much effort, I said to the pharmacy technician, “Is this far enough?” He said, “Well, not really. You might want to pull your arm out of that sleeve.” I said, “Well, I considered that, but I didn’t know if you would feel comfortable.” To which he replied, “It is all right, we are all medical professionals here.” I’m not sure why that gave me so much joy. Was it his earnestness in being a professional who takes his job seriously? Was it the fact that this young man was able to look at my somewhat doughy middle-aged stomach without wincing? Was it him saying, in essence, “Listen lady, we’re all in this together, and your misplaced modesty is not going to get in the way of this vaccination”?
In any case, I wanted to hug him or pat his cheeks or something to show my appreciation and affection. Of course, I would have waited until I was fully clothed.
I thanked him profusely, and went on my way. I will note, I was sick (the word they use is “malaise”, and that describes it exactly) for a few days, but of course it was worth it.
I felt joy in the time of COVID this week. I got my third jab, and a very sincere, professional and kind young man was there to give it to me.