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I was naive.
For 10 months I thought a COVID-19 vaccine would be found, then the vaccine would be distributed and administered, then I would receive one. From there, boom, the After Times would start, looking a lot like the Avant Times.
I fantasized about this day. I made plans to resume my old life. I would go back to cafes, sit down and enjoy my latte. I started playing pick-up soccer again. I would go to the stores without fear. I would return to work and interact with my students. I would go back to the stadiums and cover the matches. We would see friends again and go on vacation. I would have the opportunity to see my mother and my family again in Europe. My dreams were small, but these are the things I was looking forward to.
I’m a lecturer in my other job, which got me a shot in New York state since last Monday – I don’t make the rules, so talk to the governor. I stayed up late on Sunday and made an appointment with fury as soon as the clock struck midnight.
I was delighted. My personal pandemic would be over.
Or at least once I had my second vaccine 28 days after the first, then waited two more weeks to complete the six week vaccination process, I would be.
I received my first shot of the vaccine on Thursday evening. It was an occasion both anxious and joyful. I was worried that I would not be eligible after all, even though the language of New York State’s “Phase 1b” eligibility rules was crystal clear. I was worried it would be so late in the day that they might run out of doses or something. I was worried about everything.
After a quick check of the temperature at the door, I was led into a room. What struck me was how pleasant and upbeat the staff were so late in the day at this Hudson Valley family health center. The nurses had already worked a very long shift, but they were still shredded. They understood very well the importance of the work they were doing, and it seemed to support them.
People came to them in all kinds of moods, ranging from fear to partying. But they had all had a chance to start pulling them out of the pandemic. This was the part of the job that nurses seemed to enjoy. “It’s a little hope for all of us,” a nurse told me.
The point is, not much has changed yet. And that’s what I wasn’t expecting, hadn’t prepared for.
And that won’t change drastically anytime soon. Now that I’m getting the vaccine, it turns out things aren’t as easy as getting back to my old life. We are faced with other considerations, a whole new set of complications.
Throughout this pandemic, our family has been extremely careful. We did not go to the grocery stores. We did not eat at the restaurant. We avoided crowded playgrounds. We did not have a haircut. We certainly did not take the plane or public transport. My son went back to preschool in person for a while, until numbers increased again in our area around Thanksgiving.
For a long time, we wiped down groceries and left our mail for several days before opening it, until it was confirmed that low touch surfaces are very unlikely to transmit the virus. We haven’t seen most of our friends for almost a year. We formed a group with my in-laws and we are committed to preserving the sanctity of our bubble.
We thought, in retrospect, it might seem like we took too much precaution, that we were being too careful. But that can only be true if none of us get sick. It only looks like an overreaction if it works. If we were relaxing and one or more of us got sick, it would mean we haven’t done enough. There is no space between these two results. It’s a zero-sum game. We can lose experiences, but surely it’s better than losing a life – whether it’s our own or someone else’s. Or even losing the full function of your heart, nose, or taste buds for good.
But now that, by a magnificent stroke of luck and the favor of career picks, the four adults in our pod have had their first shots, there are other things we need to worry about. My old life seems closer, close at hand, but I can’t touch it yet.
Moderna says she doesn’t expect to have data on children ages 1-11 until 2022. That is, my 4-1 / 2-year-old will be vulnerable any longer. If the virus is not brought under control by collective immunity, it could be exposed to another risk year.
Until now worry was danger he posed at we, adults in the pod. Science said children were more likely to get COVID asymptomatically in school and pass it on to adults. Now the concern is that we could give it to him.
Because there is no clarity as to whether those who are vaccinated can carry and spread the disease to those who are not. This is the next step in vaccine research. Scientists believe that in theory the vaccine should also prevent the spread. But they haven’t confirmed it yet.
So until we know we can’t make our child sick, we need to adjust our post-immunization life accordingly. Like everyone else in this pandemic, we have had to assess the level of risk we are willing to tolerate. And how to analyze that, exactly, remains almost as difficult as it was before to get the vaccine.
It will be much safer for adults to do things now – although when this takes full effect we are still only 94.1% protected, meaning there is still a 1 in 20 chance of infection. if we are exposed to the virus. But relaxing our own protocols has the opposite risk factor on our son. Additionally, we might still be able to spread to other people, whether we know them or not, unintentionally perpetuating the pandemic.
The equation is different now – much more favorable, but complicated nonetheless.
Make no mistake, we are very grateful for the vaccine. I am grateful that it was developed, produced and distributed so quickly. Grateful that we had a relatively early turn. Thankful that our family is much safer now.
But this is not the end of our worries. The pandemic doesn’t end the day you are no longer in danger.
Leander Schaerlaeckens is a football columnist at Yahoo Sports and a sports communications lecturer at Marist College. Follow him on Twitter @LeanderAlphabet.
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