Hurray for corona

When will I be in line for the hundredth vaccine, I wonder.

Back last year when I was filling in my form for the second dose, I can vividly remember thinking, “With this done, I can now not be bothered by annoying check in procedures and just go on normally.” Hah!

Up to the time I received my third booster shot for COVID, it was relatively drama free. Other than the general worries and stressful mental movies that the brain plays for itself.

Your phone number is registered under your name, and it’s surprisingly easy how you can be tracked. After my first shot, the government let me know through notifications when I could go ahead and schedule my second one, and now the third booster shot. All of them Pfizer shots, sadly. I wanted a cocktail, a dash of Moderna mixed in like some people I knew. But they did get violently sick, so I guess there’s that.

The message that the vaccine tracker sends also has a link that allows you to go ahead and reserve the date and location for the shot. Being as now I am on my break, I did not have to beg and bargain with my employers as in the previous cases. (More on that in the following paragraphs, up to when I stop writing altogether). All I did was reserve it, went in on the scheduled time, got my shot, came home and rested.

All I got was a sore feeling, like I got punched hard in the arm. And the soreness has no shifted to the underarm 😱

When the vaccines were rolling out, all of us at the workplace were scared of getting it, and now it’s only a bother because hospital are anxiety filled locations.