I have a bad case of vaccination envy. I hear people I know talking about getting their shots, and I say to myself, “Geez, what’s a guy gotta do to get vaccinated around here?”
I’m stuck in limbo, like a lot of disabled folks. Politicians are always saying that disabled people are among the “most vulnerable” citizens—except, it seems, when it’s time to get vaccinated.
What’s making my vaccination envy so much more intense is that, in just a few months, I’ll be sixty-five. So I’m balanced perilously on the vaccination cusp, like a tightrope walker.
High-risk adults under age sixty-five are eligible to get vaccinated in only a handful of states, according to The New York Times. High-risk adults would be people like me. Because of my lifelong physical disability, I have very limited breathing capacity, among other things.
I imagine COVID-19 would hit me pretty hard. I don’t want to find out.
There are millions of other disabled Americans who have suppressed immune systems, use ventilators to breathe, and so on, but are too young to be in the vaccination queue.
Making matters worse is the fact that many disabled people, like me, can’t socially distance very much. I need the assistance of other people every day to do the things everybody does every day, like getting in and out of bed and making breakfast.
Thus, I’ve hired a crew of people, paid through a state program, to come into my home and assist me, so I have no choice but to come in close contact with several people every week. They wear masks and all that, but ultimately I have no choice but to take this risk most others don’t have to take.
I don’t begrudge anyone for their place in the vaccination line. I figure it’s something we all need to do sooner rather than later, so any day anybody gets their shot is a step forward. I’m not trying to crash the line. I’m just trying to claim my rightful place in it.
What’s making my vaccination envy so much more intense is that, in just a few months, I’ll be sixty-five. So I’m balanced perilously on the vaccination cusp, like a tightrope walker.
I tried to register to get a vaccination at the website of my county health department, but when I entered my actual birthday, I wasn’t allowed to sign up. I’m so tempted to go back and change my birthday to January so I can get an appointment. I don’t think they’ll card me when I show up, but if they do I’ll say it was a typo or something. They’ll probably take one look at me, shrug, and say “close enough.”
Or maybe, just to be safe, I should get a fake ID. I can’t believe I’m back in that stage of life. That’s the effect vaccination envy has on me.
A disability like mine ought to be enough to make a person worthy of a chance to survive the pandemic, but apparently it’s not.