This happened a month ago, and I’ve been meaning to write it up as a blog post for all that time. But after spending years doing a lot of writing in the evenings, almost daily, I’ve gotten out of practice. It’s just really hard to force myself to slave over a PC and bang out a post these days. This year-long break from actually living has had a major effect on all my habits, both the good ones and the bad ones.
So in an effort to
return to an actual life, I wanted to get the COVID vaccine. You know, so I
could start living again. The distribution of the vaccines has been
chaotic, to say the least. Every state
has different rules, and then every county within the state has different
rules, and I think even some cities have different rules from the
counties. It is disorganized chaos (and
that’s the worst kind).
My HMO is Kaiser, one of
the biggest. And they know my medical
history. I knew they were going to be administering vaccines, and honestly,
naïve as I was, I expected them to contact me the very first day they got the
vaccine and demand I come in for a shot.
Hell, I half-expected them to just show up at more door one morning,
with a Nurse Ratched type holding a needle and ordering me to drop my pants and
bend over. Yes, I knew the shot goes in the arm, not the ass, but go with me
here.
I mean I have a ton of
co-morbidities. Overweight. Over 65. Type 2 Diabetes. Triple bypass
survivor. I kind of felt I should be at the very top of the list.
But no, first they had
to vaccinate health care workers, then people old enough to consider me a young
whippersnapper. In fact, when they opened it up to non-health care workers,
they wouldn’t give the shot to anyone under 75.
Old as I am, I am not that old.
But then the county of
L.A. lowered the age to 65+. I
qualified. I expected to get that call
from Kaiser. “Come right in, today, Mr. VegasPoker. We have your vaccine right
here. Don’t waste a second.” But
no…..Kaiser still was not vaccinating anyone under 75, even though the county
said they could. I guess they didn’t
have enough vaccine, and they were saving what they had for the real geezers.
So I waited. But my friends encouraged me to try to get
the shot outside of Kaiser, not to wait.
BTW, these friends live in Ventura County, right next store to L.A. County,
and in that county, the lowest age was still 75 for everyone. My friend was
really eager to get the shot, but she couldn’t because she lived in the wrong
county. Like I said, it’s a crazy system.
My initial assumption
was that if I tried to get a shot at non-Kaiser location, they wouldn’t take
me, telling me I had to go thru Kaiser. My friend insisted that wasn’t that
case, they would shoot anyone who showed up and was old enough. So I tried to
book an appointment on one of several government run websites that had vaccine
appointments available.
There were many false
starts. The website was poorly designed. Instead of just being able to register
first for all the possible locations to get the vaccine, you had to pick the
location first and then register. I
don’t know how many times I entered a shitload of data on a particular site, just
to get to the point where it said “click here to book an appointment” only to
find out that that particular site didn’t have any appointments. And I’d have to start all over.
One site that would have
been real convenient said they had appointments for every day in that
week. But when you got to the point of
booking it, you could only pick one day, and that day was booked. I had to back out, enter all the information
again, and go to another day. I did this
five times for this site and it turned out that, despite what it said at the
front end, there were no appointments available any day that week. I was just a total waste of time.
Then finally, a month
ago now, I tried again. I noticed a location saying it had appointments
available that had never had appointments before. It was at a park that I
wasn’t that familiar with, but I kinda knew was pretty close to my house. I broke through all the preliminaries and got
to the magical place that said, “book an appointment,” I clicked it and
expected to be told they had no appointments. By the way, the date available
was this very day, implying I could get the vaccine that same day. To my astonishment, it said they had an
appointment for today….11:40am. I looked
at the clock. It was then exactly
11:38am. Shit. This place was close but not that close, especially since I
wasn’t even dressed. But I clicked it
anyway and saw that 11:40 was just the first appointment available. They had
appointments available at 10 minute intervals until about 3:20pm.
Hooray. By this time I had checked Google maps and
found out that this location was a mere seven minutes from my house. Initially I was going to click on 12:10 but
then I thought better of it. I had no
idea how long this would take, I better eat lunch first. So I made it for 1:40, giving me plenty of
time to eat, and find the place. I wasn’t familiar with the area, wasn’t sure
where I had to go or where I would be able to park.
This vaccine site was
being run by the L.A. Fire Department. After booking the appt, I got an email
from some HMO I’d never heard off before confirming my appointment. I guess
this was the outfit that was actually administering the shots, since firemen
aren’t nurses.
You may have heard that
there were some huge, mass vaccine centers around town. Your area may have one of them. For L.A. County, these were places like
Dodger Stadium and the Forum. These were
drive up locations, where you had to wait in your car for possibly hours until
you got the shot. I avoided places like
that like the plague. I had no interest
in waiting in my car, moving along inch by inch with my engine running while I
got barely closer to the front of line. Ugh.
So I never tried to get an appointment at Dodger Stadium.
All the confirmation
told me was to wear a mask, and bring a copy of that email which had the QR
code. No other vital information, like where to park, or a more exact location
to report to. There was a specific
street address given when I booked the appointment. One thing it did warn—do
not arrive early. That was a very specific rule they had. Show up on time, not early. Don’t get in line
early.
Of course, I planned to
arrive early and if necessary, just sit in my car until it was time to report
in. I didn’t know how to find the place
or where to park. So I left my house and
Google maps found the street address of this place. Which, of course, didn’t exist.
I was driving on the
street where the park was, I mean I could see the park on my left, and even saw
a parking lot for it. I almost parked there, but I could see it was a pretty
big park and I might be in for a big walk.
So I came to another entrance to the park on the left, but Google maps
was telling me to turn right for the address I had put in. I was glad because I couldn’t have turned
left into the park’s entrance. There was
a line of cars a mile long waiting to turn right into the driveway. I saw in
front of the driveway a sign that said “COVID Testing.”
Boy was I relieved I
didn’t have to get in that line. There must be some other
place where they are giving out the vaccines, I was sure of that. When I was on that street that was leading
away from the driveway, Google maps told me I had arrived at my
destination. There was nothing there!
Well not quite
nothing. At almost the exact spot where
Google maps told me I had arrived, I saw about three or four people on the
sidewalk, sitting under a temporary awning. I figured that was where the shots
were being administered. They were
sitting in front of a fence that had what looked to be a little league baseball
field behind it, something you’d expect to see as part of a public park.
I wasn’t sure I was
right though, so I went to the end of the street and parked on the street. I
walked over to the folks under awning.
As I was about to ask, “Is this where I get the vaccine?” I realized I
was about to make a fool of myself.
These people were sitting there, enjoying their lunch. They were clearly not medical professionals
distributing vaccines.
Well, I decided to keep
walking and go that park driveway, and ask where I should go for the vaccine.
By the time I got to the intersection, to cross the street and be on the same
side as the driveway, I got a good look at what was going on. There was not only that big sign that said “COVID
testing” but there was a guy there directing traffic, guiding cars into the
driveway one at a time as the line moved ever so slowly. I got across the street and asked the guy
where I should go for the vaccine. He
pointed to the seemingly endless line of cars that was backed up down the
street, leading into the driveway.
“That’s the line, get in the end of it.”
I was sure he was
mistaken. That was the line for testing. I wanted the vaccine. I explained that to him. He shrugged and
said, as far as he knew, there was only one line. If I wanted to, I could walk
up to where there were people checking the cars in. So I kept walking, on the driveway, towards
the people there.
It didn’t take long for
a woman to come running toward me, waving her arms, apparently telling me to
stop. I did, and she came over to me,
what did I want?
I told her I was there
for the COVID vaccine, not COVID testing.
Where do I go for that?
She pointed to all the
cars. “There is one line for the test and the vaccine. You have to get in your car and find the back
of this line.”
Are you fucking kidding
me (I didn’t say that to her, I just thought it)? “I have a 1:40pm appointment,
I’ll never get through this line in time (it was now about 1:20pm).” She said that was fine, they’d keep my
appointment.
I said, “The website
said nothing
about having to be in your car, about having to wait in your car, about even
needing a car to get the vaccine.” She apologized for that but said the website
is run by the county and they have no control over the information on it. I needed to get in my car and find the back
of this ginormous line and just slowly creep along and wait my turn.
I started walking back
to my car, which was quite a bit away.
And I was damn furious. Yeah, the
website is run by the county, but I got an email from the HMO running this
thing. Why didn’t it say that I needed a car? I mean, most people in L.A. have
cars, but some folks don’t. Or, what if
someone decided to take an Uber because they were worried about the possible
side effects of the vaccine, and were worried there’d be a slight chance they
couldn’t drive home? The email should
have given that detail—that you would have to be in car and prepare to sit it
in for hours while waiting for the vaccine.
At that point some people could have realized that they couldn’t deal
with the arrangements at this location and cancelled, and tried to find another
site. There is no doubt in my mind, since the website gave no hint of this,
that there were people who took a bus there, or walked, or took an Uber, and
were shit-out-of luck when they saw how this thing was operating.
I was seriously
considering leaving. Waiting in my car
and creeping ever-so-slowly for hours was not what I bargained for. I thought I was avoiding that by not going to
a place like Dodger Stadium. But, reluctantly,
I got in my car and tried to find the end of the line. First I got to the end of the block and saw
that the line turned the corner and I had to make a left turn to find the end
of the line. In my memory at the time, I
thought I had to turn left once more to find the end, but that turned out to be
incorrect. I only made one left
turn. But that new street that I was
following to find the end of the line seemed endless. There were many intersections crossed and
there were traffic guards keeping the lines straight at the intersections.
I finally found the end of the line and had to make an illegal u-turn in the middle of a fairly well trafficked street to get into the line. I had no idea how many cars were in front of me but it seemed like a million. I was over two miles from the actual check-in spot, and my pal Woody estimated that there were 250 cars in line. Again, I wondered if it was worth it to do this. I know if I had known when I made the appointment I was going to have to do this I wouldn’t have made the appointment, I would have tried to find a venue that was run more to my liking.
And of course, once I was
in that traffic line, I was pretty well stuck.
It would be hard to bail at that point. I mean I couldn’t pull out of
the line. I would have had to stay put
for awhile, had the cars behind me honk at me, until I had enough room to pull
out.
But I stayed. At least it was a decent day out, not too
hot, so there was a lesser chance of any car overheating than there might have
been. That would have been a
nightmare. Especially if the car had
been mine, or literally any car in front of me. I didn’t like idling all that
time but it would have been insane to turn the engine off and restart it
probably 100 times or more if I had decided to do that.
I was really glad, that
without proper warning, I had eaten my lunch first, since I probably would have
died from low blood sugar if I hadn’t.
Also glad I went to the bathroom the last thing before leaving my house.
And glad I had taken a bottle of water with me in the car. But as I moved along at a glacial pace, I
started to worry that I might just be gulping that water too fast. I wasn’t worried about running out—I was
worried about filling up my bladder too fast.
Of course, there was no way to take any kind of a bathroom break once
you got in that line.
Then I thought about the
people in line who were waiting for the COVID test. And I assumed that
most of the people in the line were there for that. Because all you hear about
is how the vaccine is in limited supply and there are so few shots
available. I assumed that 95% of the
line was for testing and how ridiculous was it that the few of us who there for
shots (and had dutifully made our appointments as we were told to do) had to be
in the same line. It made no sense.
So, those people who
were waiting to get tested were….well, sick.
I mean they were having COVID symptoms, that’s why there were waiting to
get tested, right (I suppose some felt fine, and were either getting tested as
a requirement to return to work or because they had been exposed to a
COVID-positive person)? So how great must it have been to wait in their car in
that obscenely long line while they were ill, possibly extremely ill? What if they suddenly had trouble breathing
(the most common really bad symptom of the disease)? How would that work? I mean, it might not be stalled car that held
up the line….it might have been a passed out driver that did it!
And then another
thought. What else is a symptom of
COVID? How about diarrhea? I mean whenever you a screened for COVID
before they let you enter a place that does screening, one of the questions
they always ask you is, do you have diarrhea? So imagine having that
symptom and being stuck in your car in that line, waiting to get tested? How exactly would that work? I mean I know how it would work and it wouldn’t
be pretty. Or smell good.
Most of the time, the
line of cars was hugging the curb. But occasionally there were (legally) parked
cars we had to go around, thus venturing out into the street, a main road in
that neighborhood. I pitied anyone parked there who had to leave before the
line of cars was gone.
What a fustercluck! And after spending all my adult life dealing
with L.A. traffic, I was now in the worst traffic jam of my life. And what was that bullshit about not arriving
early for your appointment? The times
obviously meant nothing. I wished I hadn’t
waited the extra 10 minutes I did before getting there. The sooner the better
for this absurdity.
I don’t know what the
right way to do this was. But I was sure
the way they were doing it was the worst possible way. But finally, I crept
forward, turned a corner, and eventually—after over two hours in my car, in
line, I could see the entrance to the park. And after a 2:20 hour wait, I got
to the point where a human being came over to my car window and asked to see my
appointment email and screened me. Cars
getting the vaccine went straight, cars getting tested turned left. It seemed
that there were a lot more people getting shots than I had ever imaged. My 1:40 appointment (it was now after 4pm)
was not mine exclusively, obviously, but just a window. I followed a trail, found another line to get
in (inside the park, at least) and waited some more. I got screened several
more times, I got asked the same questions about half a dozen times, but
finally got in a queue (one of six) where I could see at the end of which
people were getting shot as they sat in their vehicles.
The one question that seemed dumb was which arm I wanted the needle in. Did I have a choice? I mean for me it’s always the left, although since I broke my right arm a case could be made that my left arm is now the strongest and I should get it in the right arm. But I said left because, well, I was not supposed to get out of the car and the nurse was clearly going to shoot me through the driver’s side window. How would that work, if I told them my right arm? Would I have to contort myself to make my right arm available? Would the nurse go around to the passenger side and reach over to shoot me? I never found out.
Now the email said I
would be monitored by a medical professional for 15 minutes after getting the
shot in case I had any side effects.
That was quite an exaggeration. Instead I was told to drive my car to a dirt “parking”
area and just wait in my car 10 minutes and if I felt ok, drive off into the
sunset. So I did. That area was jammed with cars and I ended up
getting stuck in a ditch trying to get out of the way of other cars waiting.
Fortunately, although I couldn’t go any further forward, I was able to back out
of the ditch, turn my car around without hitting another car, and wait. I had to drive through some shrubbery to exit
(no kidding). I left after about 8
minutes because I was afraid I would get blocked from exiting as more cars were
coming in to that dirt lot than were leaving.
The way I left, I was
surprising close to my neighborhood, and made it home in just a few
minutes. As I pulled into my driveway, I
received a text from the HMO running this thing that it was now safe to leave
the area, I had waited long enough. Good
to know.
I had no side-effects from the first shot. All told, the ordeal lasted around three hours. And I was exhausted, mostly from mental fatigue. Who knew that waiting in line in your car could be so exhausting?
Now you can read my report on my second shot, see here.