Roller Coaster Ride

 Waning Gibbous Moon

I was scheduled for my Moderna vaccination dose numero dos on Tuesday, March 30 in Capitola over on the coast. The appointment was for late afternoon so I drove to Aptos in the morning to squeeze in a quick walk at Nisene Marks State Park and an even quicker one at Seacliff Beach. Then I met Captain Chem for a burger and conversation at the Sno-White Drive in. These were the fun parts of the week.

I even found a few fossils in the creek, always a blessing.

And of course the beach was beautiful. Every day is a beach day. Ask Captain Chem - he lives a mile or so away from here.

I arrived at the CVS 45 minutes early, but there was no line and they let me go right in. The lovely Santa Cruz sweetheart of a nurse poked me painlessly, slapped a band-aid across the hole, and sent me over to wait on a chair for 15 minutes before going home. I did not flop around or hurl or otherwise create a fuss, thus proving I was not a menace to society or to myself, so they let me go on my way. This was the smooth part of the week. 

I was back in my camp in front of the TV exactly on time to watch UCLA squeak past Michigan and get to the men's Final Four (kind of amazing, really). I was very happy about this unexpected victory and I was feeling only a little soreness in my arm, just like you would with a flu shot. I felt quite a relief to be vaccinated, to tell you the truth. This was the miraculously optimistic part of the week.

When I awoke on Wednesday, things were pretty normal, but I noticed that I was still a little sleepy. After breakfast, I stretched out on my bed and before I knew it, the whole morning had passed. I had been asleep for three hours. I had no appetite and standing up was a little bit of an adventure - very wobbly - so I drank a glass of water and hit the rack again. Poof! The afternoon and most of the evening disappeared into sleep, with aches and chills stirring me at 9 p.m. I drank more water and took an ibuprofen and went back to bed. 

If that was all the vaccine had to offer, I was okay with it. I had read that the first shot provides you with antibodies to fight the virus and the second shot provides you with stuff for the antibodies to go to work on. So a more robust reaction to numero dos was to be expected and would be evidence that the antibodies were working. Wednesday night and Thursday morning would be the experimental parts of the week.

I slept straight through from 9 p.m. to 4 a.m. Then I woke up soaked with sweat, a survivor of the chemical warfare inside my brain and parts south. My pillow case (not "My Pillow" case just my pillow case) was sopping wet. There was actually a tiny shallow pool of standing water in the depression where my head had been. I toweled it off, took another ibuprofen with a ton of water, changed my shirt, shivering, and climbed back under the damp covers. This was the weird, wet part of the week.

Sometime in the middle of the morning I came to and pronounced myself all dried out and fairly normal. I took a shower and dressed in clean dry clothes, fed the birds, and noticed what a beautiful sunny day it was. I wanted to go for a walk but I thought better of it, settling for a stroll to the trash dumpster and back, then twenty minutes of poking around outside like a septuagenarian feeb. I felt weak and still a little achy, deciding to just read and be lazy the rest of the day. This was the cautious part of the week. 

I was wary when I went to bed last night. I really did not want another all night fever war. When I woke up this morning, my shirt was damp, my pillow was a little wet, but I felt much stronger than yesterday. I feel like most of the reaction is over with, like the vaccination was a success, and in a couple of weeks, I will be a little more free. From what I read, they are not yet sure how long the vaccine will last - maybe 90 days, maybe longer - but a booster shot is likely sometime down the road. I can handle it. This is the grateful part of the week.

Peace, Love, and Numero Dos,

Jim

P.S. I found out that the main group of birds I have been feeding are not Northern Shrikes like I thought. They are White-Crowned Sparrows instead. If it wasn't for the worldwide pandemic, I probably never would  have known that. This is the ornithological irony part of the week.