Moments ago, I received a dizzying array of incoming messages from Kitchen Storey, my mother-in-law, and an SMS schedule bot. A nearby clinic received an additional shipment of vaccinations that they were making available to everyone. There was a link to schedule an appointment, but mine had already been made for me by my family.
Before all of this, I was in a design review talking about font weights, and now I’m scheduled to get my first shot tomorrow afternoon. My head is spinning.
It’s still sinking in—that tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of my life. At 3pm March 17, I will finally have a fighting chance against the death (or worse) this pandemic has brought to our very doorstep. As I read the appointment information, my eyes filled with water, and tears rolled down my face. Calling my wife didn’t help; it just made it worse. The last year has been scary and stressful, but evidently more than I was willing to admit (Oh, and look what The NY Times published a few hours after I posted. The stress was more than I knew that I needed to admit).
I don’t know that I’ve thought much about what happens after you get vaccinated. That day seemed to be months away. But already, it feels like a huge weight has lifted. It will still be some time before we can safely hang around friends and family with certainty, but the next chapter starts tomorrow.