Happy anniversary. Condolences. Thinking of you. Choose your appropriate Hallmark sentiment. How’re we all holding up? The past year wrought a few things (you think?). Twelve months in which toilet paper became a combat sport, bras became face maks, Purell became a verb, Zoom was a noun, verb, and a way of life, and I imagine Anthony Fauci must be looking forward to never saying “mask,” “please wear your,” “social,” and “distance” in any order or combination ever again. I finally learned how to pronounce epidemiology, tho I still have to concentrate and think it through every time. I’ve done an extensive amount of traveling while sitting on my couch: Paris, Denmark, Northern Ireland, Naples, pre-pandemic cut-throat New York, just to name a few. Nothing like a televised drama to drop you into a foreign city while you lurk, skip, and scurry along streets and into alleys chasing folks or living filthy rich without needing to quarantine or take a Covid test. And about those tests, remember when they were impossible to find/get? Brings me to patience.
Patience. Oy. If there were an English-language lexicon of 2020 (and of course there is, I’m just not looking for it right now), politicians saying “be patient” would rate around 48.6 times per minute over the last 365 days. Patience around the pandemic, around testing, around home deliveries of everything, around where to find or get PPE, around election results, around when to reenter society and when we can step inside certain places, see people, touch strangers—if that’s your jam—and on like that. One area where patience broke this year was around racial justice. That moment wrecked patience and brought people into movement. And YAY for that!
Now, the big push for patience is around the vaccine. I’m currently working with a group called Get Out The Shot: LA helping qualified people set up their inoculation appointments. I went in with some confidence around the process, a sensation I was disabused of almost immediately. The whole grab a name from the Google doc, call up, get their information, then get on the LA County website with all the myriad choices for setting up appointments and score said person one sounds straightforward. And it is until you cross over into the LA County website/make appointment moment. That’s when the Alice in Wonderland adventures begin. This process is bonkers. Broken. Crazymaking. Requiring Herculean patience. I feel incredibly lucky I got my dad his full raft of doses when and where I did. Absolutely if someone doesn’t have stable internet, an ability to keep a lot of tabs open and refreshed every few minutes, and endless time, so. much.time. then no way a person is going to get an appointment. This is, quite frankly, bullshit. There are a few places across the nation, one being Gila County, Arizona, where anyone can walk in and get a jab anytime. But here in Southern California, and most other places I hear about, not so lucky. Which is why the problem affects folks who don’t have reliable internet or hours upon hours to search (not to mention patience or transportation).
So I’ve been giving some time to setting people up for their doses. Over two days, I’ve gotten one man’s wife an appointment. That is all. There are more folks on the list who I’m moving on to next, but having scored my first, I’m taking a moment to celebrate…not long though because the list grows and those people on it are being—yes you know where I’m going here—patient. I feel like, as with so many other things during this pandemic, it will get easier as it goes. That the supply will pick up and the system smooth out. I’m exercising great amounts of hopeful thinking here while working my computer like a giant keyboard. Right now the tune is horrible, but with a little practice, the song should get better. Really, should.
In the meantime, I’m looking forward to when our new globally overused word is joy.
Does This Make Me Look 