Getting a COVID-19 shot in the arm is a pain in the ass.
The process feels like a bad spoof of a game show. Let’s Make a Deal. The Price Is Right. Jeopardy!
The excitement and relief that a vaccine is now available has been supplanted by panic as everyone I know scrambles to find locations that can administer the dose for them or their family members under California’s complicated inoculation schedule.
Are you in the right tier, the right age, the right county? Refresh websites over and over. Tell your friends so they can try.
Navigating the landscape of the coronavirus pandemic has driven me crazy, and that was even before the vaccine rollout debacle.
For someone who is naturally anxious and who thrives on socialization, quarantining and social distancing have really challenged me, and I am not ashamed to admit it.
So if you want to complain, and not feel guilty or judged, come sit by me. With a mask and at a safe social distance, of course.
Do I have the blahs and the blues? Definitely.
Multitudes of inspirational articles appear daily (I love Maria Shriver’s Sunday Paper) to help navigate quarantine life. I read them and love them, but nothing sticks for me. My daily moods are a roller coaster of ups and downs.
The world has gotten smaller and I’m pretty sure for everyone else, too. I do participate in my outdoor barre class with a mask, golf using separate carts, walk my dog a lot, stroll on the beach, and scoff at those not wearing masks as I wonder why.
I avoid friends with young adults in their households, speed shop at the market, live in workout gear, and text and text and text. By early afternoon, I get the mail — a real high point in my day. I’m watching too much TV, believing that being more informed makes me feel more connected.
With the election over, I’m weaning myself from a steady diet of news. Even though my favorite moderators have become my “friends.”
I’m eating peanut butter-filled pretzels, I wonder what to eat for dinner and I’m fearful that many of my favorite restaurants won’t survive.
My prized life as a Noozhawk columnist has withered with events and good news about new businesses in such short supply. Neighborhood streets are empty and there is less than zero buzz around town.
I’m always asked why I’m not writing, but I’m not sure anyone wants to hear me kvetch, knowing I’m luckier than most.
I keep waiting for inspiration, but it’s been slow to come. Even in writing this column, I justify it as giving permission for those of you who share my feelings to know you are not alone.
My two young granddaughters are in the home-schooling world and my son-in-law is working from home.
My eldest daughter is wearing so many hats she needs a bigger head. Teacher, mom, wife, grocery shopper, P.E. instructor, house cleaner. No wonder she’s exhausted!
Meanwhile, my son and daughter-in-law have a new baby — a huge blessing to be sure. I gaze into his beautiful little face, give him a bottle and hold him close, and I can feel my blood pressure just melt away. As he stares back at his masked grandma, I can only hope he feels the same.
My youngest daughter, who lives in a Chicago apartment, has a new dachsund puppy. The companionship has been wonderful, but she is having as many sleepless nights as my son.
Everyone is weary and crabby. Puppies, babies, parents.
Another difference is the drying up of internet threads between my beloved friends.
In the beginning of the pandemic, my online network was filled with novel Zoom events like book clubs and weddings, and political jokes were as prevalent as the coronavirus. Now, there is not that much to say so phone calls and emails have tapered off. Thank goodness for Bernie Sanders memes.
No one is doing anything or going anywhere worth talking about. We are all left to wonder how our friends are doing while we isolate in our pods, bubbles, cohorts — whatever name we use for being cloistered with a select few people to lower the chance of getting COVID-19.
The coronavirus has taken a devastating — and deathly — toll, and no one and no family has been immune. My family and I are no exception.
Nonetheless, blowing off a little steam with a bit of humor while letting my feelings flow keeps it real for me. It also lets me know that I am still me.
While I wait for my next vaccine appointment along with everybody else.
— Judy Foreman is a Noozhawk columnist and longtime local writer and lifestyles observer. She can be contacted at email@example.com. Click here for previous columns. The opinions expressed are her own.