I'm Well Over 65, But Cursed With the Body of a 64-Year-Old

AT THIS POINT, vaccines for COVID-19 have been administered to hundreds of thousands of Americans, all of whom waited patiently for Donald Trump’s family to be treated first. Also, to all Republicans in the House and the Senate who tried to overturn the election. And people named Rudy, probably. This follows the latest Centers for Disease Control and Prevention guidance that assigns first priority to people who attempt to undermine democracy. Repeatedly. (Hopefully, the vaccine will also include a dose of shame, for those who have none.)

So far, few side effects from the vaccine have been reported, other than mild headaches, a slight fever, and an uncontrollable urge to watch The Queen’s Gambit again. Some recipients exhibited abhorrent anti-social behavior, which experts feared was a psychological reaction to the injection. But it turned out Sens. Josh Hawley and Ted Cruz (R-Sedition) have always been like that. The vaccine was not the cause and, sadly, not the cure.

Meanwhile, those of us still waiting for the vaccine are honoring the clear protocols of the CDC. Vaccinations first go to health care workers, then to the elderly, particularly those in senior care centers. Fortunately for me, the wait won’t be much longer. Because of my daughter I’m nurse-adjacent, and if I throw my arms around her for a well-timed hug, who’s to say which arm gets the shot? I’m also well over 65—the minimum age for elderly recipients—although I’m cursed with the body of a 64-year-old. I hope that won’t count against me.

I don’t live in a senior care center, but I used to visit one frequently, and I’m confident my 96-year-old father who lives there would happily give up his place in line. As I often remind him, “Dad, you never stop being a parent, even if you move several states away and change your phone number. We always find you.” I strongly believe a father never loses responsibility for his children, particularly as they age.

That said, I guess now I’ll just wait for the call from the CDC, or my HMO, or the neighbor across the street who says he knows a guy. But can I choose my vaccine? There are a couple of variations, but one needs to be kept at subzero temperatures. A doctor’s cold stethoscope is bad enough, but a frigid injection might be worse than the brain freeze you get from chugging a Slurpee. (That’s one of life’s harsh but poignant lessons. You don’t make that mistake twice.)

Pharmaceutical companies deserve our deepest gratitude for making these vaccines in record time, a life-saving effort that sprang from their selfless concern for the public good. Sorry, I’m being silly. They did it for the billions of federal dollars that rained down on them like manna from heaven, only less sticky. And for the billions more they can charge for the doses they’re now shipping to hospitals, municipalities, and that guy my neighbor knows. (I hope he has the one that’s closer to room temperature.)

Not that I would ever judge the motivations of a corporation. They’re people too, you know. When God passed out the various roles we all play in society, corporations just happened to get the one that gorges at the public trough until its belly bursts. The rest of us got what was left.

But it’s a clear victory for modern medicine. And with this effort coming to fruition, we hope the world’s scientists will turn to their next health challenge: unfreezing the brains of 74 million Americans who wanted a second helping of, figuratively speaking, a giant orange slurpee—and the excruciating headaches that came with it. (Editor’s note: It’s over. He’s gone. Move on.)

You’re right, sorry. (GOLF CHEATER! Okay, I’m done.)