Jenn Writes

How I found comfort in the queue for a Covid-19 vaccination.

Thursday afternoon my phone buzzed with an SMS, “you have been scheduled for vaccination on 21 May between 2pm and 4pm”. I cannot tell you the complexity of feelings that went through me at that moment, of relief, of fear, of gratitude, of stress. With my thoughts whirling off in different directions, I could not sleep.

On Friday, having arranged a lift, I arrived at the clinic half an hour early, astonished at how quiet the place was. Shoulders back, deep breath, I walked up to the officials seated just outside the reception area.

“I’m here for my Covid shot,” I whispered, nervous and excited all at once.

“There are no vaccines left, you’ll have to come back next week Tuesday. Make sure you’re early.”

The venue had run out of the vaccines hours ago – I felt physically sick, I battled to breath and my stomach ached from the 24 hours of anticipation mingled with stress. I tried not to weep as I was driven home again.

The past year has been a difficult one, personally and due to the pandemic. I know people who have caught the virus – three have passed and several have yet to recover fully. Of those who have recuperated, all say they would not wish this disease on their worst enemies.

I needed that vaccine.

If at first you don’t succeed

On Tuesday, I arrived before 7:30am to find two long queues of maybe about 500 people outside the venue: there were the elderly, waiting for their Covid vaccinations, there were mothers bringing their children to the clinic, there were sick people needing help, there were visitors coming to see relatives.

It had been more than a year that I had seen so many people. I’d forgotten what that felt like.

The gates opened at 8am and we were allowed in in small groups. It was then that the over 60s waiting for the vaccine were separated from the other clinic visitors.

Silently, I had a panic attack. My body felt cold and I was shivering, not from the icy air of the early morning, but because I was waiting to be sent home again. I took a deep, deep breath to relax. What will be will be.

It was then I noticed it. All around me, life was happening at full volume. The group of pensioners, our group, had formed an alliance. They were sharing stories about their families, about their neighbours, about their Covid experiences, about the vaccine process.

There were stories galore. One man’s family members, who lived in Johannesburg, were given appointments for their vaccinations in the Eastern Cape. Another pensioner, who lives in an old age home in Johannesburg, was told to go to Bronkhorstspruit. Others, like me, were queueing for a second time having been turned away previously.

I learnt about people’s heart conditions, cancer and diabetes, I heard about their children living in distant places, their grandchildren and neighbours. I heard story upon story.

Two hours passed before the first group of people were taken to get their vaccinations. We had been sitting or standing, outside in the weak morning sun, chatting, laughing, sharing – doing what South Africans do when they get together.

Together we are stronger

It was while I was sitting in the queue that I met two women who made my day and left me with a sense of profound gratitude.

The first, who was seated near me, was a young pensioner, full of energy and enthusiasm, grabbed my arm we headed towards the organisers. “She has an appointment, and so do I,” she announced. So, the two of us were allowed to join the next group heading in to the clinic for the next phase of the process.

As we walked to the clinic foyer, she slowed down to help a frailer woman, providing an arm to lean on, while I kept their place in the queue. Suddenly I was part of a team.

After more than a year of being in lockdown, it felt really good to belong to something again. There the three of us sat, at the enforced social distance yet close to one another, ready to be checked in. Warmed by the sun coming through the window, we shared our stories, laughing at the grumbles of others, and giggled like children at a silly comment.

Together, we went into the clinic for our shots. And it was together that we left, whooping, jumping and shouting through our masks at our joy of being vaccinated.

That Tuesday morning reminded me of something very important – we humans are social beings. What happens around us may be messy, confusing, or hard, but together we are stronger.

For the first time since the start of the pandemic I was surrounded by people. I felt connected, and through that connection, comforted – something we’ve all missed dearly during this time of Covid. Thank you dear Annette and Ayesha.

By the way, I received the Pfizer inoculation, so that means … Bring on Round Two.