Connell Sanders

CONNELL SANDERS ‘Battling vaccine ‘survivor’s guilt’

SARAH CONNELL SANDERS

Afriend chimed in on the group text this week with a surprising confession. Her employer had offered her the COVID-19 vaccine, and she wasn’t sure what to do. “I feel terribly guilty,” she wrote, “to be vaccinated before so many elders who need it.”

My initial reaction was confusion. From my perspective, the more inoculated Worcesterites, the sooner I could get back to throwing elaborate theme parties, having leisurely meetings in coffee shops, and teaching real, live human children my definitive philosophy on the potato hierarchy — I mean, teaching them how to read. (French fries>chips>mashed potatoes>tater tots. Obviously.)

“I feel like so many other people deserve it,” said the little gray chat bubble, “Teachers, Target workers...” To put it plainly, as a furloughed employee stuck at home, she felt guilty.

I encouraged her to go through with it anyway. Too many vaccines had already gone to waste across the nation and it would be a shame if her slot was never filled out of sheer administrivia. The group agreed. “Maybe, just don’t broadcast it on the internet,” we concluded.

A few days later, she sent us a private message thanking us for our support with a picture of the season’s hottest accessory: a vaccination card. Doctors predict that the CDC-issued record will be used to determine who can dine indoors, board International flights, and attend special events. The NFL even invited 7,500 vaccinated healthcare workers to attend Super Bowl LV next month.

I think we can all agree that healthcare workers are the priority. May we all double-tap the vaccination photos of our brothers and sisters in scrubs. These are the heroes who instill confidence in the American public and selflessly care for our sick, day in and day out. But, in the chaos of a pandemic scramble, let us acknowledge that the system is not perfect. Access to the vaccine is, at times, subject to chance.

One NYU student, Ricardo Sheler, told The Cut about his encounter with a frantic “random dude” on the street who offered him a dose destined to end up in the garbage, expired. Sheler posted the ordeal to Snapchat and the trolls came a-knocking. He wasn’t deserving, they cried.

I saw a local professional shamed in a similar manner this week on Facebook. It’s one thing for a nurse to post a smiling photo, syringe mid-pump. It’s another thing entirely to watch someone pandering for likes with a vaccine pic, whilst working from home. I found myself thinking, “I am so glad you got vaccinated. I am so glad you will be able to hug your loved ones very soon. I only wish you wouldn’t rub it in.”

The vaccine rollout has shown its flaws and raised myriad ethical questions. My feed is full of angry elite bozos posing problematic hypotheticals like, “If I become an overweight smoker, can I be first in line for the vaccine?” Fear brings out the ugliest parts in all of us; that is something we share.

When presented with the opportunity to get vaccinated, I hope you take it. That said, if you are not a frontline worker, I’m not sure I want to see any photo evidence just yet. And, if you have to go out of your way to call in a favor and cut the line, I don’t think you’re setting a very good example for our young people.

I asked my friend how she was feeling after the vaccine and she admitted a bout of imposter syndrome. Her father had set her at ease, saying he would be a lot more comfortable having her visit once she was immune to the virus. It was a good reminder that taking COVID precautions is neither selfish nor embarrassing. Protecting yourself shields the most vulnerable among us. It is the honorable thing to do.

“When presented with the opportunity to get vaccinated, I hope you take it.”