I'm 82, But Don't Think I Should have Skipped to the Head of the Line
I was giddy in the back seat of a Toyota Camry, on my way for the first of two vaccine inoculations at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Grateful for my good fortune, I shared my mood with my Lyft driver.
"That's wonderful," Adetoyese had said, his voice earnest as if he were a member of my relieved family.
This was my first shared ride since March 15, 2020 when my world shut down as depressingly as a Broadway show that closed on opening night.
When I first received an invitation to schedule the shot, I hesitated at first because I was still leery of getting into a stranger's car. Although the hospital is just a tad over a mile away, the frigid Chicago temperature dissuaded a walk.
I could've called one of several friends, who watch over me as if I was their Bubbie, and who have urged me to reach out before calling a Lyft. But emails from that shared ride company had assured me the drivers and cars were adhering to Covid precautions.
"Your car is so clean," I said to Adetoyese, wondering if my voice had the proper amount of praise, and absence of unexpected. "Will you be getting the vaccine soon?"
He sighed. "We haven't heard anything yet," he said, in a tone that had switched from his happiness to my luck, to his own poor place in line.
"That doesn't seem right," I said. "You deal with strangers every day; you should be protected before me.
He laughed, perhaps at my naiveté.
Because I've been wondering the wisdom of vaccinating old folks before struggling breadwinners, I have become a pariah in my age cohort. "Speak for yourself," some say. "As soon as I get notified, I'm there."
I understand this reaction, from grandmothers longing to travel and see their grandchildren, and those suffering from imposed loneliness. And I admit, when offered, I didn't turn down my double dose protection.
But I'm suspicious of our country's sudden solicitude for seniors. Did ageism cause the criminal neglect of nursing home residents, which led to the highest number of early Covid-19 deaths? Are those responsible trying to make nice now?
I know we should treat us elders with respect and gratitude for what we have done for our families, and our countries, during our long lifetimes. But giving us more years ahead to weather our natural decline, seems a bit absurd.
Surely I'll plead for oxygen and medical intervention if Covid is to sneak in before I get my second dose. But really kids, is that something for me to look forward to?
This isn't a plea for a halo, but I'd rather my children in their 50's who are working to support their families, and have decades to catch up to my adventures, get the double dose before me.
I can think of dozens of occupations where workers, typically from Black and Brown communities, who are in low-wage jobs without sick leave, and are at the highest risk of exposure, should be allowed to cut in.
Consider teachers, store clerks, bus drivers, Lyft, Uber, and taxi drivers, and anyone else serving the public. Compare their day to this old lady's outings from masked elevator rides, to my health club's chlorinated pool where I'm protected by swim goggles and solo lanes, and to the dog park where I'm masked and six feet apart of pet owners.
Of course, those who do catch Covid at their younger age will likely never have to be hospitalized, and will quarantine with painkillers and rest. This grandma, despite being in pretty good shape, could likely be plucking from the file my medical directives.
As Adetoyese and I approached the hospital's pavilion, I thanked him for the ride and assured him of five stars and a tip. He was gracious, and wished me luck in getting the vaccine.
On the third floor of the building, any anxiety I had about the wait or the experience ahead, evaporated as I saw hundreds of medical personnel and volunteers, steering a herd of grey-haired mirror images of myself, through the rooms, which was as well-organized and efficient as a military field operation.
In a half hour, after receiving my vaccine and a date for a second shot, I was back at the curb, signaling my app to send another driver.
Lucky me, I thought, no frigid hiking, no need to drag a friend for retrieval, just a few push of buttons to pull some unlucky Adetoyese -- who may wait months for protection - to chauffer me home.