Today marks two weeks since my poor left shoulder received the second dose of the COVID-19 vaccine. It went smoothly, just like the first dose, but without the minor blood spurt this time. I suppose you can only be so special once.
The fact that it was a drive-thru clinic was weirdly awesome. It took all of five minutes from pulling up in the car to departing to the 15-minute wait zone where I had a nice chat with a clinic volunteer. She cheered when I told her it was my second dose. She had chunky beaded bracelets which slid up and down as she pumped her arms like a runner who breaks the finish line tape. Indeed, I was at the finish line. Almost.
Now, I definitely am—that is, for now, since we don’t know how long immunity lasts. But I don’t mind the uncertainty. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat, it was that painless and convenient. Well, I had a sore arm and felt slightly achy the day after, but mostly I just remember being so hungry when I got home that I inhaled a large slice of veggielicious pizza and a blueberry scone. Sitting there on the bench with oily fingers and my left shoulder working the tape and cotton ball look, it felt like a little send-off party for all the mRNA that were bouncing around my body, doing their thing.
Speaking of party, will I throw one now that I’m fully vaxxed? Maybe. But it will look less like a large gathering and more like inviting a friend or two into my home to simply hang out. Because the pandemic reminded me how good good friends are and that it doesn’t take much to feel the benefits of good company, even from afar.
Going back to “normal” will feel strange. The CDC says you can start doing things you stopped doing before the pandemic once you’ve been fully vaccinated. I love their infographic: the “green is go” for vaccinated people versus the mostly yellow and red-type cautions for unvaccinated people showing an obvious division. Their message is clear: full vaccination equals full life, no mask or distance required.
Yet they also warn that getting COVID is still possible even after vaccination. No vaccine is 100% effective so a small percentage of people will inevitably still get sick. And though we know the vaccines work against some variants, they could be less effective for others. The virus mutates each time it infects someone, so really there’s no saying which variants are to come and what they will be like. All the more reason to get the vaccine to slow the spread.
My hope is that the normalization—even excitement—of getting the COVID-19 vaccine normalizes vaccination in general. Because although the COVID-19 vaccine took center stage this year, there’s a host of other vaccines that are health-promoting and potentially life-saving that deserve their time in the spotlight too.
As I learned from a pharmacist in a global vaccination network meeting, other vaccines have been sacrificed to prioritize COVID ones, and though I think some prioritization was necessary, people still need to hit their vaccine milestones. If you’re lucky enough to already have your vaccination record on file with your doctor, then you likely don’t need to track the milestones yourself. But if not, it’d be good to check. There aren’t a whole lot of vaccines you need as an adult, but there are some that require boosters once in a blue moon. Not sure where you stand on the vaccination front? Call your doctor’s office and ask. There’s even a handy tool that tells you what vaccines you need, based on some basic facts about yourself.
One vaccine I’m particularly passionate about promoting is the HPV vaccine, mostly to debunk the stigma behind it. If you’re a young adult, chances are your doctor, at some point in your pre-teen years or shortly thereafter, suggested to you or your parents that you get it. Unfortunately, the vaccine has a reputation of being associated with sex, which leads to HPV vaccine hesitancy. Many parents believe, from what I’ve read in the literature and my own experience, that getting the HPV vaccine could encourage their budding teenager to suddenly become sexually active since HPV is transmitted through sex. As if their kid thinks, “Hey, I got the shot that protects me against HPV, so might as well start having sex!” It’s an understandable fear, but the thing is is that not getting the vaccine isn’t going to delay a young person’s exploration of their sexuality. Besides, the important thing is something entirely different: the vaccine is about protecting against cancer. There are over 100 different kinds of HPV, of which at least 14 are known to be cancer-causing (aka high-risk types). The startling fact is that nearly everyone who’s sexually active will get HPV at some point, and while most times it clears up on its own, there is still the chance that it’s one of the “bad” types. Approximately 45,300 HPV-related cancers occur in the US each year, mostly among women. The most common HPV-related cancers are cervical cancer among females and oropharyngeal cancers among males. But HPV-related cancer is preventable, and it’s preventable by getting the shot before someone becomes sexually active. Getting the shot doesn’t make someone jump the next person they see to have sex. It does protect them against certain cancers. The bottom line is it’s just another vaccine, like MMR or tetanus or hepatitis B vaccines, all of which are necessary for health. That’s the message we need to get across, and maybe—just maybe—the hoopla around the COVID-19 vaccine will make vaccination seen as something that you just do.
Vaccination is preventive, and prevention is to health like peanuts are to peanut butter. You can’t have the latter without the former. It’s like pounding orange juice when you feel the symptoms of a cold coming on, hoping the vitamin C boost keeps you healthy so that your life doesn’t get disrupted by annoying cold symptoms. Being fully vaccinated means life goes on. My life won’t be the same as it was pre-pandemic, but it wouldn’t be the same even if it weren’t for the pandemic. Because life is ever-changing. Don’t worry, I won’t get more philosophical than that. Mostly I’m just excited to hug my people again, breathe easier while running outside maskless, go play at the bouldering gym, and think about travel to see dear friends and family. Above all, I’m grateful for this life.
