And finally, daylight

The distant blade slap of the helicopter breaks the early morning silence. The distinctive sound moves in an arc from the far shoreline over the treetops that demarcate our property lines. We are currently inundated with a 17-year cycle of gypsy moth caterpillars that have laid waste to the oak and maple and beach leaves, exfoliating the upper reaches of our majestic trees like so much “Agent Orange.” The chopper delivers BTK, a biological insecticide spray with no known toxicities, and now, after four days, it is apparent that our creepy visitors have paid little homage to our costly efforts directed at their total annihilation. It is 6:15 and the morning calm of the lake mirrors the distant pines. The stove-top percolator diffuses the essence of espresso, an early morning jolt necessary for the long drive back to the sweltering city. Vaccination Day: The Sequel, has finally arrived. The 16-week chasm between vaccine doses has been mercifully shortened. The dosing schedule debacle will be debated with the settling of the dust as will the rollout, distribution, prioritization, hot spot designations, stay at home orders, phased openings and precipitous closures and, of course, the misguidance of guidance at multiple levels of authority. The postmortem and forensic accounting will be a fascinating read. There is much to learn in avoiding historical mistakes. The drive from cottage country to the city on a Saturday morning in June takes about 2-1/2 hours to cover the 250 km distance. The southwest route is traffic-depleted as city-dwellers trail their plethora of craft, a congested convoy moving slowly in the opposing northeasterly direction. Springsteen supplies the travelling music and I fail miserably to maintain the poetic syncopation of his words and the rhythmic cadence of the music. A mirage of heat rises from the asphalt highway as the approaching city bakes in an oppressive index of humidity. I am returning to the Newmarket recreation centre where Vax #1 was provided. Living in York Region in pandemic times offers priceless organizational benefits. There has been consistent leadership and facilitated accessibility to an otherwise convoluted and frustrating general vaccine booking process. When the gates opened for 70+ second shot appointments, I was welcomed into the fray. The requisite screening questions completed, I entered the building, sanitized my hands, donned a fresh mask and was directed onward to desk #4 to register. No lineups for this process. I proceeded to the switchback maze for an anticipated wait and was immediately ushered to vaccine station #6. “My name is Dr. A,” the young scrub-suited physician announced. “My name is Dr. Goldstein,” I responded. The formalities quickly dispensed with, we shared our respective and current professional engagements, mine considerably less onerous than his. He had recently completed family medicine training in the U.S. and had returned to Toronto to attend to the needs of his aging parents. I dared not ask their ages nor his definition of “aging.” He was currently working in Urgent Care environments with a side job as vaccine provider. I informed him of my recent retirement from general practice after 50 years and he asked if I was enjoying my newfound freedom. I elected to withhold the specifics of my last eight months of “freedom” in order to allow him to return to delivering shots into arms. We wished each other well in our future endeavours. And, by the way, his technique was superb. Sitting in the crowded and physically distanced confines of the arena, I gazed around at the countless smiling eyes. Shoulders relaxed, tension dissipated, this was a blissfully thankful audience. A gentleman in front of me sat trying to read the discharge time on his yellow note. His wing span was insufficient, extending his arm to its anatomical limits, so I offered my assistance confirming 2:42 p.m. for his exit. A conversation ensued, and within his allotted time available, I learned invaluable highly personal information, all unsolicited. Our common purpose this day had spawned a fleeting friendship. I checked out three minutes later and there in the parking lot was my new Vax-quaintance striking up yet another conversation with a total stranger. An “aging” couple crossed my path, all smiles and maskless in the afternoon heat, congratulated me, confirmed that I, too, had received “#2” and gave me a “Mickelson” thumbs up as they walked away with a newly acquired bounce to their step. The vehicle temperature registered 36C as it baked in the mid-afternoon sun. I sat for a time, sweating and processing the events of the past eight months and this moment in time, the anticipation, the frustration and the anger. The long journey back to the creature comforts of the cottage would assuage the emotions I had endured, with exacerbations and quiescent lulls not necessarily well-balanced. I have been disappointed and disenchanted with the rollout and targeted distributions of vaccines predicated on guidance that often raised questions of credibility. If I was having doubts about decisions and inherent failures to communicate, how was the lay public expected to understand the confusing clinical nuances. Despite the rigidity and specificity of vaccination criteria, there evolved an underground movement determined to undermine the equitable provision of vaccines. In the early weeks of March, queue-jumping became an Olympic event. Inclusion criteria became the exclusive property of perceived entitlement. When I learned of this gambit, I was at once disappointed, dismayed, and distressed, not because I was overly self-righteous, but because there were so many more clinically deserving of the need for vaccination based on risk stratification. In time, there would evolve a pipeline that allowed access to bookings without the necessity of a conscience. I realize that the common goal is to vaccinate as many in the population as possible, but at what cost? With the arrival of “Vaccine Hunters Canada,” the playing field would become more accessible, navigable and intuitive, or would it? Vaccine hunting, however, would soon become a blood sport! “Vultures” would descend upon communities of greatest need, swooping up dose offerings like roadkill on the blacktop. Voice messaging on every vaccine booking site would begin with warnings that abusive language and behaviour would not be tolerated and yet, confrontations would abound, threats uttered as the “Hunger Games” of Covid-19 vaccination entered a new phase of societal dysfunction. The arrival of millions of doses of vaccine has modified the tone of treachery. The tide is changing and finally, there is hope that we have left the fear and uncertainty of the past months behind. The tedious focus on numbers may be redirected as “openings” are spoken of and “orders” rescinded. It must be managed with care and patience, not recklessness and overindulgence. My wife and I have little interest in sitting at a table for four on a patio anywhere. Our shopping will remain selective and mask-potentiated. A haircut will be a luxury of personal grooming. The priority for us is quite simple: visiting under one roof with our children and grandchildren without the fear that a hug or a kiss will transmit pathogens of consequence. We have reset our expectations moving forward. Although there remains a bucket list, it is less grandiose, more practical and certainly more meaningful. There have been times in the past year when I have lacked direction, motivation and purpose. I have retreated into myself to the exclusion of my wife and family and friends. Everyone is going through the same thing, I thought, so why burden another troubled soul? What’s the point? I persevered, knowing that there would be a positive resolution to the isolation, the forced confinement and solitude. The denouement is now upon us. While we will soon return to an alternate normal, it is exciting to plan a future, having not had that opportunity for so long. Vaccination has provided the vehicle for a more positive tomorrow. We are all the beneficiaries of the largesse of science and technology. On Saturday morning I was awakened at dawn by the sound of a helicopter churning overhead. I arose in the darkness of the day and as evening transformed into night, finally there was daylight.

And finally, daylight

Register for free access or login.

More Blog Posts in This Series

Doing time: Hallway medicine is out of hand

Senescence

The patient doctor: Leaving my MRI distraction playlist behind

Blog Author

HOWARD GOLDSTEIN

Related Topics