Covid Chameleon
The Young Lady has an Adverse Reaction
Getting my Covid booster yesterday was a no-brainer; I was grateful to schedule my appointment the second the State of Connecticut told me I could. At 65, I just met the age requirement.
I drove to the vaccination site and as I parked, I scanned the line of my fellow booster shot peeps. I was struck by how old everyone was. Of course, this should have been the logical expectation, since advanced age was the very thing making us eligible; yet somehow, it came as a shock.
A nurse who looked to be five years younger than me was tasked with crowd control. As I approached, she asked me if I was coming for my Covid booster. When I said yes, she directed me to stand on the sidewalk on the other side of the driveway. “Sure,” I said.
“Thanks, young lady,” she said. At least, that’s what it sounded like she said, though granted, she was wearing a mask and my hearing isn’t great. I stood there thinking that if that was what she’d said, it was troubling. Clearly, I am not a young lady, but I’m not old enough to be playfully condescended to. In fact, I would argue that no one is ever that old.
When it was my turn to advance, she called out, “Come over, young lady. Cross and stand to my left.”
I complied, thinking, shit, she really did call me young lady.
After being further moved along to a desk to process my insurance information by the same nurse, using the same patronizing tone and descriptor, I became increasingly annoyed and, to be honest, shaken. I felt I’d aged twenty years just by showing up. I did notice that I was surrounded by very elderly people using canes and walkers, and I admit that I have a tendency to be a bit of a chameleon, taking on the attributes and behaviors of those around me, so while sitting in a chair in the hallway and watching an age-spotted couple nodding off in their seats, I began to feel similarly ancient. It wasn’t until I got into a private office with a young, chatty nurse who administered the shot that I began to feel better. He was in his twenties, I’m guessing, and we got to talking about our jobs and his own booster shot side effects. I felt like I had a half-hour before, when I was young.
When I got to the waiting area to wait the required fifteen minutes before going home, the nurse came at me with a small water bottle, telling me to remember to hydrate. I thanked her, and was clutching the bottle, along with a teeny shred of dignity, when an octogenarian in a motorized wheelchair with a surprising neck tattoo pulled up.
“Hello, young man, would you like some water?” the nurse asked, before suggesting he roll a bit further away, to keep a social distance from (pointing to me) “the young lady.”
Go figure. It takes me fifteen minutes to wait out any adverse reaction from the vaccine, but here it is, twenty-four hours later, and I’m still not over the damn nurse.