Donna and I got our second doses of the Pfizer vaccine Monday. As physically different from one another as we are, you’d think our reactions would have been different too, but no. We both thought the second injection seemed more of a jab than the first, but neither of us was sore afterward. We took a short nap together Tuesday afternoon and woke up with slight headaches. We shared the sense that our bodies running at a little less than mil power for a couple of days, but we’re fine now. For all the talk of side effects, that’s been it for us.
As a military family, we’ve been inoculated against all sorts of dread diseases. We remember experiencing fevers, chills, and aches after some of those vaccinations. The COVID shots are a walk in the park by comparison, and I hope people aren’t avoiding getting the vaccine over concerns about side effects. I wish the media would quit sensationalizing every negative reaction to the vaccines, but I know it’s a vain wish.
Presidential historian Michael Beschloss posted this photo to Twitter yesterday:
People my age, even though we were kids at the time, remember what a big deal that was. We were fucking scared of polio. We went to school with kids who were crippled by it. And it wasn’t just polio: nearly all of us knew kids, if not in our own families then in our neighborhoods, who’d died of scarlet fever and diphtheria. Smallpox was still around. My mother had to go away to a sanitarium to recover from tuberculosis when I was little, and she was one of the lucky ones.
I will never understand anti-vaxxers. Something is wrong with their brains.
Something was wrong when we woke up this morning. The sun wasn’t there, poking over the mountain to the east. Neither was the mountain. Turns out there was a reason:
This little guy seemed undaunted:
Mr. B said nuts to the whole deal, but did venture out into the snow to poop, because not only is he a Good Dog, he’s a Good Citizen.
© 2021, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.