Chip and I went to get covid and flu shots yesterday.
It’s hard to know what to do now that vaccines are a choice.
I asked the nurse for help and she said it was my call and went to get the vaccines for Chip, who had no concerns.
Recently, I took the dogs to the vet in Juneau for their checkup and because Jeff was limping. He’s okay, just arthritis (he’s nine) and we got some pain pills. Jeff and Trixie were due for vaccines– rabies, kennel cough and something else that I didn’t catch. Never mind that they have never been to a kennel, there’s been no rabies in Haines that I know of in the 40-plus years of living here with dogs, a cat, chickens, Patty the Ratty, guinea pigs and a rabbit.
As I waited my possible turn, the nurse (of course we know her, like her and have for decades) told Chip that Covid is going around again and that the shots are recommended for people over 65 and we are. But not much, I thought.
I want us to live to be a lot older. He got one. I am already here.
I have friends and family– and friends with family and friends– that have health issues, are elderly. I’m flying to New Orleans in two weeks for my niece’s wedding. I don’t want to accidentally make anyone sick. Especially the new relatives. I relaxed both arms and took a jab in each. I couldn’t even feel it.
I did not want to ruin a perfectly good Friday evening imagining how sick the shot would make me feel the next day, especially a cozy late October Friday evening before the snow falls, when the firewood is stacked, lamps are lit and the World Series is on TV.
So, I invited two friends for dinner. Casual. No biggie. Just to see each other. I picked bouquets of yellow and red leaves, thawed halibut (that my friend’s husband caught and gave to us. We give him deer.) Made a cabbage salad and roasted potatoes and carrots. Filled a pitcher with water and lemon slices. (The nurse said to hydrate.) Set the table. The gals brought wine, cashews, a cake for dessert and a dog.
We three talked in the kitchen while Chip chimed in from the living room with the Series’ highlights. It was a rout. Meanwhile, I learned about an 82-year-old accordion teacher in Anchorage whose band plays for polka dances. I also learned from my accordion playing friend that some accordions have buttons, some have piano keys and that a young guy that I thought I knew pretty well ( we share books) is a dance instructor. No way! Yes! He could teach the polka, swing, and line-dancing this winter.
Speaking of dancing, we sashayed right into the stunning demolition of the Whitehouse to make way for a giant ball room. We didn’t linger. Those thoughts are bad for our souls. Instead, we discussed the river of Alaskan typhoon refugees flooding Anchorage and the first-hand accounts by Jeron Joseph. The devastation is unbelievable and the people caught in the evacuations from remote rural villages to Alaska’s largest city – Los Anchorage is what some call it–are remarkable.
As dinner was served, we tacked away from current events to summer plans and bike trips, winter plans and boats. Dogs and how cold Alaska used to be. Husbands and late husbands, mindful that the storms of life can strike at any moment. Which is why we held hands and I said grace before we ate, why I scooped Chip’s homemade ice cream on the banana chocolate cake, why at the door we said — I love you guys and Thank You, That was Fun—Text when you get home– and why this morning, when I woke up sore and queasy from the shots, I was grateful.
