Tim and I got our first covid shots. We got up early and drove about 45 minutes to a nearby high school (did you know they serve cappuccino and espresso in high schools now?)
The place did not open up until 9, but there was a line when we got there at 8:45. It was okay though. After a good soaking rain over night, everything was so green. Buds had popped open. It just seemed like everything was blooming. I felt like Dorothy stepping out of her house into Oz for the first time. The people in line were friendly and talkative and everyone there was getting their first shot, and glad for it. So the wait was fun.
Once inside, the line moved very quickly through registration and we herded out of the cafeteria and to the gymnasium. I stopped at the door and said to the fellow there, "There are no dodgeballs in there, right?" Turns out I was not the only person traumatized in gym class because it got a good laugh.
We went inside and took our seat on a bleacher. They were setting up an area for people to sit the required 10 minutes after receiving the shots. People were coming out of the shot area and having a seat almost as quickly as the poor woman could get the chairs out. At one point, she dropped one and it made a huge clatter echoing around the gym. Tim and I craned our necks, sure that someone had a reaction and fallen out of a chair. From the immediate silence, I knew that we were not the only ones with that thought. Down the bleacher from me, a woman said, "I'm outta here..." and laughed nervously.
They had several stations set up and the shots went quick as a wink. In no time, I was sitting in the waiting area. Tim had been in front of me. He was no where to be seen. I looked around several times, thinking I missed him, but he wasn't there. When my ten minutes were up, he still wasn't out there. I began to worry.
There is a secret about Tim that we discovered back in the cancer days. Needles make him light headed. I decided not to leave the gym until I knew what happened to my husband. I waited about five more minutes and then I was much relieved to see him striding jauntily across the gymnasium.
"What took so long? Did something happen? Are you okay?"
And his eyes crinkled above his mask. He said, "The doctor took one look at my arm and decided it was so muscular, they needed to use a longer needle." He laughed pretty hard at that.
He's pleased as punch about this, and has been strutting around in a very studly way ever since, flexing and posing. I will never hear the end of this.