Chris’s vaccination story

This is the second in a series of stories from Union members about getting vaccinated against COVID-19. Chris lives in Portland, Oregon.

"Free cookies." That was the pitch made to me by my friend. "Go now before they run out."

Being in the Phase 1A category in my state meant I was able to receive priority access to the COVID-19 vaccine (and a bag of Famous Amos cookies). A mix of laziness and a fear of needles discouraged me from making a vaccination appointment, but I knew that if I planned on getting vaccinated eventually, there was no reason to put it off. How foolish would I feel if I contracted the disease because I couldn't be bothered to take a couple hours out of my day?

I made my appointment and immediately left for the Convention Center. Parking in the underground garage for free felt strange, as the building had historically been used for overpriced concerts and trade shows. Standing in line with a friend, we were ushered through a series of mazes where National Guard members asked us questions about our eligibility and health records: "What makes you eligible for Phase 1A? Are you allergic to any medications? Will this be your first or second shot?"

After scribbling my contact info onto a form with a recently sanitized, and thus very slippery, three-inch golf pencil, I handed it to an usher and was sent to a distant table to get vaccinated. For the next two minutes I did not stop talking. I don't remember what I said but I hoped that if I kept my mind and mouth active I could distract myself from the needle entering my arm. The plan worked.

As I sat in the for the obligatory 15-minute observation period, I asked a staff member if they'd witnessed any allergic or adverse reactions to the vaccine. They said they'd been working eight hours a day for three weeks and hadn't seen any problems. That was reassuring, and I took out my phone and used my state's website to schedule my second dose one month later.

I felt very blessed to have early access to the vaccine but, unfortunately, they were out of cookies.