My Moderna Experience
I decided to get the two-dose COVID-19 Moderna vaccination as soon as I got the invitation e-mail from my local government. I signed up to be notified a few weeks prior, having heard that new phases of people were being accepted. I’ve got asthma, I’m over 16, and my BMI is well over 30. Welcome to phase 1c.
I wanted to get the Johnson&Johnson shot, but could not find a facility that had it available. I guess I didn’t get the updated info in time, simply relying on the little map that the TN.gov site provided. They all said Moderna, I wasn’t trying to be fancy, and I just wanted to get it over with. It took forever to debate with myself over potential side effects and the rest of my worries, but the idea of catching COVID after the horrendous asthma flare-ups from two years ago pushed me to get vaccinated. I never want to feel like I’m dying ever again. Being unable to breathe, feeling my own heart rate racing well over 130 BPM+, and trying to stay calm while wheezing and sweating scared me to death. I could not scream, I could barely walk, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. Add COVID to that. I would be dead. I’ll take one risk to prevent others. Besides, I’m still paying off two ER bills from that very episode. I can’t imagine my fate trying to survive AND adding that bill to my debt pile.
My general practitioner wanted me to see a gyno about the vaccine before I took it, and I knew where that was going. With all the hormonal and fertility health issues I have, my chances for kids are slim. Protecting myself from a virus that isn’t going anywhere soon (despite people being “bored” with it and acting like all is well and the virus is “over”…) is my top priority. Not just myself, but others around me. I knew what she was getting at, and bless her heart for thinking I have a chance, but I’m facing a reality where I’m indoors a lot, where I can’t just get up and work at anyone’s business (you’d be surprised how many places perform the COVID clean and care dance, but really don’t give a flyin’ fudge about it…), and surprise surprise — ain’t no dates in sight. I would much rather take the risk than walk around unvaccinated.
I wanted to set the whole thing up with pictures of that day but ended up forgetting. I dressed comfortably (pull-over scarf to secure wet locs, cute earrings, sweat pants, rainbow sweater, shirt with easy-to-roll sleeves), brought reading materials, and tried to mellow out. It wasn’t. The longest part was the 40+ minute wait in a line around the corner from the local health department. Check-in was fast, the set-up was easier, and before I knew it the nurse had stuck my big ol’ arm with the needle and told me to wait 15 minutes for any reactions.
That was it.
It seemed a little silly to be taking selfies that day, and my mind was set on getting it over with and coming right back home to sleep. I didn’t have it in me to take a photo of such a nervous moment despite my burning Millennial nature to capture all moments. I mean… I did look sort of cute that morning, all fresh-faced and hiding my PCOS.
Anyway…
What Happened After? (Originally Written about a week after Shot 1 — Early March)
I sat in the car with my uncle, listening to NPR and scrolling my phone. He read a book. 15 went by quickly, and my uncle was a minute early notifying me. My arm hurt a bit, then my thigh felt sore. I came home and felt a little woozy, but nothing big to report. I was tired, but most of that was from me not getting enough sleep. I went on with my day, carefully trying to avoid all arm-inclusive activities.
For the rest of the week, that’s all I had to report: a sore right arm, tiredness, and for some reason, my right thigh ached too. When I went to bed, I could feel a hint of cramping in my arm. It would radiate to my thighs and knee. This was all on the right side. I sort of wanted to go to bed earlier, but my breathing and heart rate were all fine. Normal spring allergens were messing with me, but again — nothing big to report.
I was still getting twinges of pain about seven days later, but nothing serious. I tried not to sleep on the vaccine arm and just went to bed if I felt tired. I sat down if I didn’t feel right. I’m glad the first shot didn’t make me react or combated against my medicines (montelukast, furosemide, vitamin D, occasional albuterol hit) to make things hard. I was worried about the second dose but decided that it was better to keep a cool head about things. It’s just irritating to see how the media talks about fat people and this virus. Or where we are in all this, or how we react differently to this vaccine or that treatment.
Shady, media-based fatphobia. Fun stuff. It’s enough to get it from average people, but even more interesting (not) when news sources find a way to negatively squeeze us in. “It’s just the facts”, right? Eh. That is the other reason I hesitated to get the shot, going so far as making a video will in case anything happened. I just want to try and make it in this changing world, if that’s possible. Things will not “go back to normal”, so now’s the time to prepare for a different world.
Before this becomes Pessimist Fest 2021, I just wanted to say that my vaccine day went by smoothly. My time after that seems to be just fine. I felt pressure and sometimes a little pain and soreness, but I’m still here. We’ll see what the second dose does.
I’ll sign up for my second dose in April, live my little so-called life as I’ve been, and maybe write the next Great American Novel in the process.
The Second Dose (Written April 19th, 2021)
My aunt chose the Pfizer Vaccine in February. Her job had folks come to administer at the school, and she went ahead and took it. Long story there, so let’s just say a lot of people at her job chose to “fc*k around n find out” about COVID, rather than taking precautions. That made her decision simple, and she did not hesitate to get vaccinated. The second shot had her off of her feet for maybe a day or two, but she recovered quickly. Her symptoms scared me: fever, shivering, and mild hallucinations (she called it the “purple light”). I found myself prepping to be in bed like she was, worried that my asthma and weight would make all of it worse. While I couldn’t completely use her as my guide of assumption, it gave me a good idea of what to expect. I geared up weeks prior to my second dose, prepping with soups and pain meds. I vowed to rest and do my list of dailies from bed via phone and tablet. With everything a few steps away, I figured a slow shuffle down the hall wouldn’t be too bad.
I had heard a lot about adverse reactions and found myself wound up in fear about dying or what it might do to me. I don’t know why some people died after getting vaccinated, and I wish I hadn’t let the fear eat at me. I suppose that reading enough clickbait headlines and contending with anti-vax folks who never hesitate to start drama contributed to some of it.
I got my second dose at Walmart on the 19th of April, and it was so fast and easy that there was no room to freak out. I took off my sweater, rolled up my arm, and the nice practitioner stuck me within seconds. A very hot assistant (pale blue eyes, crystal white smile, sun-kissed dirty blonde hair — aka the hot 90s soap opera hunk!!) started a timer and lead me to a chair. After 15, I went home.
The lady told me everything would be mild and that’s exactly what it was — mild for the first and second week. When I came home, I felt a little woozy, but in good enough spirits to vlog and answer surveys. I got in my pajamas and napped. When my aunt came home, I watched TV with the family and dozed off on the couch. The only other symptoms were a slight lack of balance, tiredness, dry mouth/weird taste, dizziness, and arm discomfort. I felt a little heat at the site of the vax, maybe a hint of hardness. It itched a little a week ago, and I scratched. It felt goooooood.
So, as it turns out, I freaked for nothing. It was smart to prep but I could have saved my dollars. If anything, the experience made me re-evaluate my personal health. It also taught me that freaking out can make things worse, sometimes.
The next person’s experience may be different from mine. I suggest speaking with your health provider, doing your own research online, and asking questions at your local health department. I’m not going to get on any soapbox to yell at deniers or persuade the unsure. I had my doubts and fears, but found that speaking to my aunt and father (who grew up during the age of Polio shots and getting vaccinated at school with the scars to prove it), reading stories of elders who went through pandemics, and Googling about the vaccines helped. It wasn’t about being a sheep, but rather doing my part to stop the spread.
It…also didn’t hurt that Dolly Parton helped to fund the Moderna vaccine.
