The Covid Vaccine, Special Needs, and Hero Scientists

Yesterday I received my second shot of the Covid-19 vaccine.

That’s pretty sweet, though not for the most obvious reason. Yes, I now don’t have to live in daily fear that I will contract the virus just by buying groceries or some other risky way like happening to pass an unmasked person on the street. But the real relief here is that I won’t accidentally bring the virus home to my kids. I won’t have to feel guilty about pampering myself with a luxurious treat like visiting my doctor’s office for my own health, feeling that I’m risking my son’s fragile wellbeing by doing so.

Here in Illinois, the state…eventually…made it official that any parents or caregivers for people with documented critical needs could get the shot under the same classification as other health care workers. I say “eventually” because they didn’t officially announce this fact until the weekend before they also opened up vaccinations to every single person age 65 and older. It was rumor and legend before that, and what documentation was required to prove my status wasn’t entirely clear.

So, as you can imagine, the race to actually secure a vaccination appointment was frustrating. Our state, and the entire country, seemed to think that we should set up appointments for Covid vaccines the same way stores set up the chance to buy an Xbox Series X or a Playstation 5. And by the way, as someone who actually secured one of those devices, GETTING THE XBOX WAS EASIER.

This is the vaccination card I keep on me like some sort of VIP-access pass. I’ve blurred out my date of birth and patient number because it’s none of your dang ol’ business.

Putting aside the risks of my son getting Covid for a moment, I just have to mention a gripe that I have with vaccinations in the Chicago area. The State of Illinois has over 12.5 million residents, and the Chicago metro area has over 9.5 million residents. So, are 75 percent of the vaccines going to Chicago, Cook County, and the surrounding counties? I think not. The state has actually expanded eligibility for people like myself, someone with diabetes, except not for where I live in the city. So I and all the other under-65 folks with disabilities that still desperately need the shot for their own health risks can’t get it because just too many folks live here.

There has been a lot of talk about the inequities of vaccine access, yet this seems to be the biggest barrier that is cloaked in a cloud of mystery. If the largest segment of peoples of color, with disabilities, and both in the state of Illinois and the country are living in cities, who is determining how many shots go where? There is such a scramble in the city that two of our three home care nurses have still not received the shot. I know it’s a numbers game right now and the demand is high, but it still feels like some basic arithmetic could ease some of it.

Chicago’s mass vaccination site going up at the United Center. Credit: Colin Boyle/Block Club Chicago.

I will admit, however, that Chicago is trying to do its best with what it has. They finally set up a central way to find a vaccination appointment. Originally I had to go to each and every location directly around the county and the city to see if any appointments were open. And the media likes to announce that Walgreens, CVS, and Mariano’s have vaccinations, but they don’t have any central place to find them. You had to browse location by location only to find out that there weren’t any shots to be had. After seeing the errors in that plan, the City and Country are setting up mass vaccination sites that you can walk or drive through to speed up the process, not to mention risk exposure. But will the Transit Authority provide accessible rides to the sites? And what about medically-fragile people at home who need the shots to come to them?

Hooray Scientists

All of this has been so stressful that we haven’t really had the time to think about how we’re going to throw a big party for all the people who have been trying to solve the Covid problem from Day 1. We have seen stories of health care workers putting in endless hours treating patients, yet more airtime has been dedicated to the politics of the pandemic than to the struggle in our hospitals. Not to mention the scientists that worked to deliver multiple vaccines in about a year.

To the clear, I’m not talking about the pharmaceutical companies themselves. I’m talking about the experts behind the scenes who have chosen to live with the challenges of controlling viruses every day of their professional lives. Are we ever going to elevate our appreciation of them?

Ben and Jerry’s has ice cream flavors for dogs. I’m pretty sure they can dedicate one to scientists.

Where is that snazzy Ben and Jerry’s ice cream dedicated to scientists? I think some “Ph. D.-light” or “Virologist Twist” is in order.

Some statues need to go up as well. Don’t get me wrong, I like statues of Lincoln, Leif Erickson, and whomever as much as the next guy, but it would be nice to point to a statue as something my kids could aspire to be themselves.

Maybe add a dedicated express line at the airport, because when we can all eventually fly again, those are the folks who will need a vacation most of all.

There is rightful criticism of pretty much every aspect of how this pandemic has gone down and will continue to be. But at some point, there will be a time when we must convert our blame into analysis as our fears turn into relief. And if we don’t recognize the people who helped us as heroes, there will be a whole lot fewer of them around the next time they are needed.