COVID Shots Arrive in the Ozarks

by Pa Rock
Local Yokel

This past week I began focusing on COVID-19 vaccinations with a vengeance.  I was already on two waiting lists - one with the county health department and the other with our local hospital group - but had received basically no information from either of those sources as to when the vaccines would reach our local area - if ever.  On Monday I sent a polite but pointed email to my state representative, a Republican ex-judge whom I do not know personally, asking about the state's plan for getting the vaccine out to his rural district.   Now, five days later, Rep. David Evans still has not provided me with the courtesy of a response.

On Tuesday and Thursday I directed tweets to our state's governor, a Republican by the name of Mike Parson, asking him about the state's vaccine distribution.plan.  Governor Parson also did not deem me worthy of a response.  On Wednesday I masked up and went to the local Walgreen's where I do all of my considerable pharmaceutical business.  I asked the young man at the window if they had a sign-up sheet yet for COVID inoculations, and he sheepishly told me that would be "months away."

So I sucked it up, went home, and waited on the killer virus to find me.

But then Thursday afternoon, not long after I had sent another POT (pissed-off tweet) to Governor Parson, things suddenly changed for the better!  As I was sitting at the computer working on the day's blog entry, an email dropped into my in-box from the county health department and the local hospital group.  It said that a mass COVID inoculation clinic would be held the following day at our local Civic Center, and that I met the requirements for getting the shot.  I was to arrive between the hours of noon and two p.m. and was cautioned not to arrive early.  (Shots were being given all day on a schedule defined alphabetically by last names.)

So yesterday I got in my old flivver and headed to the Civic Center - early of course - where I got in a long line of slow-moving cars that were being marked and directed into the Center's large parking lots by uniformed members of the Missouri National Guard.  (The one thing that Governor Parson has done right in this whole mess was to turn distribution of the shots over to the Missouri National Guard.  Those folks get things done!)

Once parked, I was told to remain in my car and that someone would come and get me when it was my turn.  I chatted with the Guard member who was wearing an Air Force uniform, and learned that he was based at Jefferson Barracks near St. Louis - the place where my father had enlisted in the Army Air Corps in 1942 just after he turned eighteen.  Cars were still coming in, bumper-to-bumper, so I settled in with my Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine expecting it to be late in the day before I was finally called.

Less than thirty minutes later, however, another young man in an Air Force uniform tapped on my window and asked if I was ready.  (It's a wonder I didn't knock him over as I hustled out of the car!).  I was driven to the front door of the Civic Center by a non-uniformed person who was operating something that resembled an agricultural golf cart.  (Similar vehicles were everywhere transporting us frail, elderly types around the parking lot like a colony of deranged ants at a picnic.). I chatted with my driver - because that's what old people do - and he told me that he was employed by the city street department.

Human foot-traffic inside of the Civic Center was being carefully directed by members of the National Guard.  I talked to another guardsman, a young woman in an Air Force uniform, and asked if she was based out of Jefferson Barracks.  It turns out she was from the other side of the state and was working out of Whiteman Air Force Base in Johnson County, near Kansas City.  She led me into the Center's gymnasium, the place where the teams from the local university play their home basketball games.

I was quickly shuffled to one of many small tables that were being manned by young women in what appeared to be blue nurses uniforms.  It turns out they were student nurses from our local university.  Mine took the forms that I had downloaded from the internet and carefully filled out - and she transferred my information to another similar set of forms.

And then . . . and then . . . she plunged that blessed needle into my right arm and delivered my first COVID shot - Pfizer - and handed me a card with instructions to appear at the follow-up clinic which will be held at the same location on February 19th.  

I was then shuffled along to another part of the gym where people were seated in groups and required to sit for fifteen minutes until released by the timekeeper.  While sitting in the large time-out space, I overheard a conversation between a fellow with shoulder-length gray hair, like my own, and a friend whom he had apparently not seen in quite some time.  The friend was commenting on the man's long pandemic hair, and the guy responded, "Yes, my sister says that the longer I stay at home, the more I look like a homeless person!"  And that sounded like something my own sister was probably thinking about me!

After being released, I was shuttled back to my car and allowed to be on my merry way!   (Shuttled, shuffled, shuffled, shuttled - there's a poem in there someplace!)

And now I am beginning to feel empowered.  The shot didn't hurt and I had no side effects other than a bit of a sore arm late in the evening - and that has now passed.

I feel both pleased and very honored to be part of the Biden administration's ambitious goal of inoculating 100 million people during Biden's first 100 days in office - and I know that it would not have happened without the highly coordinated efforts of our local medical community, county health department. local college students, city employees, and the Missouri National Guard.  You guys rock - and help to make West Plains, Missouri, a great place to live!

Many thanks!