My Quest to Get the COVID 19 Vaccine

In North Carolina, hospital systems are immunizing their staffs for COVID. These systems also own many doctors’ offices and immunize their personnel at those offices too. But local county health departments have been assigned the chore of providing vaccines to the public.

Most opioid treatment programs (OTPs) are not part of health systems. During our weekly state-wide opioid treatment provider teleconferences, we’ve discussed how and when OTP staff can get COVID 19 vaccines.

The medical staff, including nurses, physicians, and physician extenders, are categorized as 1a priority for vaccine, and for counselors and OTP office staff, consensus seemed to be they were also 1a, or 1b according to some county health departments.

Like my co-workers, I got notification that the opioid treatment program where I work, owned by Acadia Healthcare, will not be offering vaccinations to patients or their healthcare workers at the programs. However, they do encourage providers to obtain the vaccine.

So, I was left to find the vaccine on my own.

Our local hospital immunized most of their workers near the end of December. Beginning in late December, our local health department started giving the vaccine to other community members, as they received doses from the government.

I went to our county’s health department website and was pleased to find a form to fill out with my name and data. I was under the mistaken impression that submitting the form meant I was requesting the vaccine. That was not the case. The form was a survey regarding potential interest in getting the vaccine. I got a polite email from the health department telling me to be sure and call if I needed the vaccine.

So I did. Our OTP works with our health department, so we had some contacts there. I called them but could not get through to our contact person or any other human, so I left a message. I was called back by a pleasant woman who told me to call the next week, since they were already out of vaccine, and perhaps some would be available the next week.

Many of my colleagues at other OTPs in other counties already got their vaccines, usually by appointment at their health departments.  I was feeling a bit left out of things.

Last week, I called their number again and got a general message: more vaccine had been received and “appointments were not necessary.” The vaccine would be available on a first come, first serve basis, starting at 10am at a drive-through site, only for people in the 1a and 1b categories. On previous vaccine drive-through days, they have run out of vaccine rather quickly.

I’m usually at work on weekdays, so I had to ask to leave work at 9:30 that morning, to get in line at our health department.

My fiancée, whose schedule is less structured than mine, reconnoitered for me that morning. He went to the old airport where the vaccines were being given at around 8:30am, only to be turned away by a policeman who told him that the vaccines were already all gone, and that people had been camping out there at 2 am to be first in line for the vaccine. Disappointed, he let me know there was no reason for me to leave work that day.

So, I stayed and worked as usual, thinking I wasn’t going to be able to get a vaccine that week. But then at around 11:30 one of the employees told me two of her elderly relatives had just received the vaccine after waiting in line for two hours. They got to the site at 9:30.

This made no sense, since my fiancé had seen many cars being sent back home at 8:30am. I put it out of my mind until after we finished up case staff at around 1pm.

Later, we discovered local police, helping manage crowds, mistakenly sent people back home because they thought the vaccine was already gone when it was not.

As I was leaving work around 1pm, I thought I’d drive the extra ten minutes out of my way home, just to see for myself what was happening – or not happening.

I kept thinking how silly I was to think there would be any vaccine left this late in the day, but I pushed on. I passed a flashing sign giving directions to the vaccine site. That was promising. Surely the sign would be off if everyone was gone. I turned the corner and saw a squadron of flashing police lights and lines of cars.

I pulled up behind one line and after several minutes a helper came to my window and asked if I had the correct forms. I told her I had the forms I downloaded off the Health Department’s website. She took them from me and peevishly told me they weren’t the correct forms. She took my temperature and asked about recent illness including cough and fevers. I answered no to all, and she gave me a card with a number on it.

I was in line to get my vaccine!

Hurriedly, I called my fiancé to let him know to return for the vaccine, since he’s also in the 1a risk group. I also texted other co-workers also wanted to get the vaccine. Thankfully, two other co-workers made it in time to get vaccinated.

The health department nurses couldn’t have been nicer, and the shot was a breeze. I remained in my car the whole time and got a card with the vaccine name and other information with a reminder of when my second dose was due. This whole process took maybe twenty minutes.

Then after the injection, people waited in a line of cars, because we had to wait 20 minutes to see if we were going to have a reaction.

And if you think anyone was leaving that parking area one minute early, you are mistaken. At the eighteen- minute mark, an EMS worker asked me how I was feeling, I said fine, and she said something I mistakenly thought meant I could drive away. Nope. A stout policeman literally jumped in front of my car to block my exit. He shook a finger at me. I obediently stayed four more minutes until I was permitted to leave.

My arm was sore at the injection site for two days, about the same feeling that I get with the yearly influenza vaccine. I did have body aches the day after the vaccine but was able to work as usual, though I took a few Tylenol to ease the aches. I’ve felt fine since.

These county health departments have been poorly funded for years. With relatively small budgets, the health departments have been trying to provide medical care for the many uninsured patients of the county. Now we’ve asked these health departments to perform the most daunting task of the century: get a COVID vaccine to any person who wants one. I admire their resolve to get the job done and I’ll happily overlook any inconveniences presented.

I was happy to see local police and EMS services on the site to help with the task. I thought that was a great idea. They held this drive-through vaccine program on an old airport runway, which was perfect for the purpose

I was thrilled to get this vaccine. I was thrilled the wait was very brief and I didn’t have to miss any work. I was especially happy that my sweet fiancé was also able to get vaccinated. I hope it can be quickly distributed to any person who wants one.

I was surprised that at the opioid treatment program where I work, out of around twenty-five employees, only five of us wanted to get the vaccine. I think that may change with time, as more people are vaccinated.

I still wear a mask to work and to the grocery, the only two places I need to go. I know I can still spread COVID, and it’s still possible to get sick with COVID between the two vaccines in the series, though I’m less likely to get severe illness.

Early on, I wasn’t sure about the vaccine, and told people that I didn’t want to be the first person in line to get it and I didn’t want to be the last one either.

One of my patients helped me adjust my thinking. She participated in the Pfizer vaccine trial, and we talked about this last fall. I told her I admired her courage. She said courage had nothing to do with it. She entered the initial clinical trial because she wanted to be able to tell her grandchildren that she did something to help mankind overcome this threat to us all. Even if the vaccine wasn’t successful, she was willing to take a risk to help other people.

I admire her generosity of spirit. Her outlook is more like, “What can I do to help others?” rather than, “What will be best for me?”

As always, my patients continue to teach me.

2 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Debby on January 25, 2021 at 12:47 am

    Really loved the credit you give to your patient. The first recipient of a gene therapy at the University of Pennsylvania did it “for the babies”.

    Reply

  2. Maybe now you have some perspective of your patients jumping through hoops like a circus act trying to figure out how to get treatment and figure out all of the rules of the federal, state and OTP and then figuring out the insurance too. I am saddened to hear that they will not be giving out vaccines to your patients on site but since so many at your OTP are not interested in getting this vaccine let’s hope this does not effect your patients descion not to get it. Maybe this is a good enough reason to move OTPs into mainstream medicine. Our patients seen in primary Care OBOT are being offered the COVID-19 vaccine because of the comornidity of having a SUD.
    Maybe you are being more compassionate than you think you are but still just a need more self care.,

    Reply

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