Tuesday, February 4, 2020

Shingrix 2.0

I had an awful time with the first Shingrix vaccine; I was flat on my back for a day and a half.  I was not looking forward to receiving the second dose.  Knowing that I had a 6 month window made it somewhat less pressing than preparing for Thanksgiving and Chanukah and Christmas and New Years and TBG's birthday and my family visiting and school starting and so it went until Saturday.

TBG wanted to make no plans for watching the Super Bowl; he wanted to be alone on his couch with his son on the phone and me by his side.  I had nothing on my calendar for Saturday afternoon and my physical presence would be more important to TBG than any input I might provide. I was out of excuses; I had to get the shot.

I called the pharmacy, hoping that their cupboards were bare.  They said come right down, we'll have it ready when you arrive.

And they did.  And it hurt.

I drove right home, just in case.  I didn't have lunch, just in case.  I changed into comfy clothes, just in case.  I worried, just in case.

Reading didn't distract me.  I kept checking in to see what condition my condition was in, pausing after each pithy chapter of  Girl, Woman, Other to feel my forehead, to listen to my body, to refresh my stay-hydrated-water-bottle.

I tried to nap, but I was too anxious.  I got hungry, so I ate a sandwich.  My arm hurt, but the rest of me seemed just fine.  All through the night and the next day, I kept worrying and kept feeling healthy.  I went to Costco and we watched the game and I made brownies and I kept worrying.  Still feeling fine, I forgot to take analgesics before bedtime and my sore arm woke me up every time I rolled over. 

This morning, I left the house an hour earlier than I should have, fully convinced that I was late until a light bulb went on over my head.  I barely made it up the stairs to Pilates, struggled through, drove straight home, and crawled under the covers.  Everything hurt.

I slept for two hours undisturbed by TBG's comings and goings or the television or the ringing of the phone.  When I woke up, I felt fine. 

Was it my body's last attempt to reject the vaccine?  Was it a migraine without an aura?  Was it a seven hour flu?

It doesn't matter.  It's over. 

And I don't ever need to get another shot of shingrix again.


  1. Sorry you had a bad time. I had no trouble with either dose except for a very sore arm. Now I have to get Shingrix for George and am crossing my fingers....

  2. I haven't done it. After my family doctor told me how bad her experience was I chickened out. I got the first, less effective immunization, and that was bad enough. It's unfortunate that I didn't ask my mother if I had chicken pox while I had the chance.


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