By Jen Rooney, Program Developer with Trellis
The COVID pandemic has changed almost everything about how we work. One thing that has not changed, though, is that when Friday evening rolls around we are often spent. But one Friday a few weeks ago turned out differently because of a call from my sister the day before. Due to her persistent checking and “refreshing” on numerous vaccine sites (this was before vaccines were readily available), she was able to tell me, “I found you an appointment for the Johnson & Johnson vaccine tomorrow night at 6:30, but you have to be willing to drive about four hours.” Since the J&J vaccine only requires one dose, and I had not had an adventure of any sort for a year, I jumped at the chance. “Confirm it,” I said while emailing my manager for permission to take Friday afternoon off.
Even though it had been a long week, my energy level that Friday seemed to increase with every mile I got closer to the pharmacy. When I arrived, I was slightly underwhelmed to see that it was a pharmacy inside a grocery store. I drove four hours to stand in line next to the Little Debby Snack Cakes display!
When my appointment time arrived, the volunteers greeted me with smiles, gave me a clipboard and told me to follow the yellow x marks on the floor. The telltale shelving made me realize this “clinic” was the now-obsolete video rental part of the store. As I looked for a chair to sit down and fill out my paperwork, a voice called, “Come over here.” It was a nurse, and she was waving me to a table.
Even though we were both wearing masks, I could tell she was smiling, and I could also tell she was tired. Her name tag said, “Cami, RN.” I sat down and started checking off answers on my questionnaire as she made small talk. I signed the form and when I paused to remember the date, Cami said, “3-12-21.”
“I bet you have said that dozens of times today,” I thought aloud, while pushing up my left sleeve.
“Almost 200 today,” she said happily, reaching for a small syringe. “You’re my last one.”
“Wow,” I said. “You must be exhausted.” I felt the vaccine make its way through my arm. It was warm but didn’t hurt.
“I am tired but it’s a good tired,” she said. She was already putting a bandage over the injection site on my arm. “I love being here. People come for a shot of hope!” She noted the contrast between administering COVID vaccines and her other work. “When I am not here, I work at a screening clinic where I swab people’s noses for COVID tests. People don’t come for testing for the fun of it. They are anxious, uncomfortable and sometimes crabby.”
While Cami handed me my proof of vaccination card, she told me I could sit with her during my 15-minute wait to make sure I didn’t have a reaction. “When I work here, people are generally happy to see me.”
“I know I feel a real sense of relief,” I confided. “It’s been almost an entire year of waiting for this moment.”
Cami lowered her voice a bit and said, “I never imagined this job would be so emotional. I can’t tell you how many people cry during this process. One woman said her husband died last November of COVID. She was crying both from guilt and the joy of not catching the virus. Another man told me his wife died less than a month ago.” The widower told Cami how they had waited for the vaccine. He was thinking about how much he missed her as he cried telling this random nurse about the love of his life.
Cami continued, “Last week, I vaccinated two women who both had children who had taken their own lives since the start of the pandemic. The first woman and her family all feel that the isolation her son experienced during the quarantine magnified his diagnosed depression. She smiled when she talked about him, but the tears just kept rolling down her cheeks.”
When I told Cami that I couldn’t imagine looking for the right words of comfort, she replied, “I don’t say anything. I just listen, smile, and thank them for sharing their stories and being so brave. Then I go home, shower, and make sure I get some snuggle time with my two little boys before I tuck them in.”
“You are the right person for this role,” I told Cami. “It is going to take more than vaccine and masks to get us all re-engaged in life. It’s going to take people like you, who will listen, show empathy and encourage others.”
“A shot of hope,” she replied.
