The Covid Vaccine Kicks My Ass: I'll Always Be First In Line For It Anyway

Welcome to the Grimoire, which is really just a space for me to blog random thoughts that aren't actually traditional articles and not a grimoire at all. But maybe I'll sneak a spell in here somewhere, you don't know!

I have gotten every COVID vaccine since it was made available early 2021. I was quarantining in Los Angeles at the time, and knew it would be easier to get the vaccine in a conservative area of Colorado (the state I still technically lived in at the time) than in Los Angeles County. And so off my future roommate and I went, embarking on the 15 hour drive to Colorado after finding an appointment in minutes on the heels of searching for something in Los Angeles for days. We walked in, got the jab, and went home to celebrate our future freedom after months of being trapped inside 24/7.

I was then bedridden for 2 days straight with a fever and body aches so bad that my skin hurt. Meanwhile, my roommate was completely fine. (No, I'm not bitter, why do you ask?) Six boosters later, and I still have the same reaction every. single. time. Yet, the 2025/2026 update of the vaccine just became available in our area Thursday, and I had our appointments booked and ready to go immediately.

The calculus here is pretty easy for me. 2 days of pain is a very, very small price to pay to protect myself and my neighbor. We're well past the possibility for herd immunity because we're living smack dab in the middle if Idiocracy, but that doesn't mean that the more of us that are vaccinated the greater protection there is for our peers. Selfishly speaking, I also have absolutely no interest in long COVID (or really just any form of COVID in general, frankly).

It's now been several hours since my latest jab. There's a solid knot in my arm, a symptom I've never had before that could be attributed to either the COVID or flu vaccine — I've gotten them both at the same time since the option became available several years in — and I can already feel the start of a headache marinating behind my eyes. Tomorrow, when I am drenched in sweat and sitting as still as possible to avoid the chance that anything brush against my skin, I will have absolutely no regrets about my decision.

So why, if I am so entrenched in this belief, am I bothering to blab about why I'll be first in line to get the updated vaccine every single time? It's not even about anti-vax sentiment, those people are beyond reach. Instead, it's really about anyone who experiences the same symptoms and finds themselves worried about them or wondering if it's worth it at all.

When something is a net good that benefits everyone, we as a society have a habit of only talking about the positive aspects. It's propaganda, but it's used for good. Still, I'm not here to enforce that. Getting the COVID vaccination sucks ass for me. If it sucks for you too, I want you to know that it's 100% normal (per the 3 separate doctors I've talked to about it), and to reiterate that 2 days of discomfort is absolutely better than potentially killing your neighbor, giving a debilitating illness to your immunocompromised friends, or potentially contracting long COVID yourself.

Additionally, it feels critical to encourage folks seek out vaccination while it's harder than ever to get one. The Los Angeles Times gives a good breakdown of why it's so complicated to get the jab in certain areas right now, but all of you know the short version of the story is that RFK Jr. is an unfathomably dangerous moron.

Even if the vaccine is restricted in your area, BMI is insanely outdated and the chances that it considers you "obese" (read: high risk) isn't insignificant. A pharmacy tech on base pay probably isn't going to look into whether or not you have an anxiety disorder, either. Know that even if there are barriers in your area, there are still ways to protect yourself and your friends, and it is absolutely worth doing so. Schedule the appointment, grab some pedialite, stock up on ibuprofen and take care of your neighbor.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find a carb-heavy dinner and prepare for a Mad Men rewatch while I spend the next 2 days in agony.