By Alice Vining
This is just to say HOORAY, I got shot #1 with Pfizer this morning. It was a piece o’ cake, with many experienced pharmacists from all over the state of NH, well organized to poke all us Kendal-oldsters and make our appointments for #2.
Before needling my left arm, the Walgreens Pharmacy guy filled out a long form about my allergies and diseases (none), capped by the big questions:
Are you or might you be or do you plan to be PREGNANT?
X and X and X. No, no, and no.
“In your dreams,” I said.
He didn’t crack a smile. What a boring young man, I thought. Maybe he thought I looked a little bit pregnant. Oh, well.
One painless poke and I was sent to sit in the folding chairs.
Efficiency continued, and the line of lucky vaccine receivers over 80 tottered along. I collected my snacks and waited my fifteen minutes of recovery time.
I could overhear the pharmacist doing the requisite paperwork with an old gent in a wheelchair who was next in line.
“Date of birth? Heart disease? Diabetes? Bee sting allergy?”
Nope, nope, nope.
“Are you, might you be, do you plan to be PREGNANT?”
X marked the blank.
Neither one of these guys, the young one or the ancient one, cracked a smile.
Poor things, I thought, to go through Life like that. No bemusement.
I wish I had answered Yes, just to see what would happen.
Alice, wonderful, laugh out loud, send it into the New Yorker! Also poignant, about the two guys “going through Life like that.” Sandy