The dog-eat-dog world of vaccine access

Note: This is an abridged version of a column originally published by TheRealMainStream.com.

There's a new suggestion floating around to help boost the economy and encourage vaccination.

'Restaurants and nightspots, hold an open night for the vaccinated!” suggested one heretofore trusted voice. 'Entry allowed for anyone who can present proof of vaccination! Come on in, help restart the economy, show the world the benefits of getting vaccinated!”

The rest of you? You are not invited.

If you're eligible to get an appointment and just can't. If your work schedule doesn't allow you to check the internet five or 10 times a day. If you're uninsured and have been too busy earning a living to explore the free medical clinics and other aid available to you. If you're not able to travel an hour (or three) to where vaccinations are available in your state. If you don't have powerful or connected friends or relatives who can help you skip all the rigmarole. If you're not even eligible to get vaccinated yet and have no idea when you will be … too bad for you.

The party is starting without you.

All across this country, every expression of joy at someone or their friend or their relative getting their vaccination is accompanied by two or more tales of someone who's still nowhere close to getting theirs.

The Cedar Rapids Gazette began calling vaccination a version of 'The Hunger Games” a month ago. In Des Moines, a planned vaccine expansion is delayed because demand is so much greater than supply. Rural pharmacies have been asking for vaccines for weeks and many are still waiting.

So many are stuck in the 'transition” phase: That early child-care worker for a private institution, left unvaccinated by the system only to then contract a late case of COVID from a baby. The hair stylist, massage therapist, tattoo artist who can't get on a list. The retail workers for small businesses who have no idea when they'll get their shots. The partner of the health care worker who doesn't qualify like their spouse. The member of one college department who has more contact with students than that other department that already got vaccinated. The 80-year-old who's still trying to get an appointment while they hear about all their neighbors, 20 to 40 years younger, already vaccinated.

The levels of coping are so vast and so overlapping. None of us can know just what our neighbors, colleagues and Facebook friends are dealing with - including those who are celebrating their vaccination.

Case in point: a friend of mine vaccinated a month ago has to cope repeatedly with anger from her work colleagues as they wait for their 'jabs.” My friend is experiencing full-out survivor's guilt, not unlike the lone survivor of the plane crash that killed everyone else on board, or the one kid who was able to hide in the broom closet.

Early on, we needed to hear and see people glorying about their vaccinations. We needed you to share your joy at vaccination, at moving closer back to 'normal,” at being able to hug and kiss and travel and hang out with your other vaccinated friends. We needed you to cajole, lecture or strongly encourage us all to 'go get yours.”

But this pandemic shifts quickly. And it has again. It's not that simple anymore. And we need a new tone.

Please let us not forget that hundreds of thousands of people have died, while we get to survive. Tens of thousands will still die while they wait for this wonderful feeling of vaccination that is now commonly celebrated on social media and in conversation.

So if you've already been vaccinated, please consider: what tone would you choose if you'd survived a more tangible and visible mass incident, like a plane crash or a shooting? How would you choose to express gratitude and your feelings about the future?

A few weeks ago, public joy in your vaccination was a public service. Today, even dropping a note about how you got that appointment - let alone that first or second shot - will be like a poke at someone out there who hasn't been able to get through for days or weeks.

If you're among those waiting indefinitely for your vaccination, we need to dig deep for sensitivity, too. A decent percentage of the already-vaccinated, including those who are unintentionally gloating, are health care workers or teachers who put their lives at greater risk than us in some way over the past year. Chances are they've second-guessed at least one comment or post they've made, to someone or somewhere, about that cool vacation they can now take, or the visit to Grandma and Grandpa they can now have, or the kissing and hugging they can now enjoy. They know that their post or comment may feel hurtful to someone, somewhere; they are learning. This situation is new to them, too.

But let's not lose sight: those awaiting vaccination, who will be the majority of us for months ahead, are facing greater emotional and physical jeopardy than ever before in this pandemic. As more people get vaccinated and the momentum to 'normal life” builds (prematurely once more), those of us not yet protected by vaccination must still rely on social distancing, masking, our own judgment - and most of all the good judgment of everyone else around us.

So when you write to celebrate your vaccination and encourage others to get theirs, you can simultaneously offer up a nod to the more common situation, which for a brief time will be extreme vaccine inaccessibility. What a great way to practice unconditional empathy.

In closing, let's reach for that new tone. Maybe a little less 'look at how wonderful life is now that I'm vaccinated” and a little more 'how can I help people find their vaccination opportunity” and 'how can I help ensure my unvaccinated friends and neighbors still are safe and feel safe?”

Subtly, boldly, in conversation, on social media and most of all in the thoughts we have that no one knows, but that affect our every decision each day, let's rise to this last, greatest challenge of the COVID era.

Christine Hawes is a longtime journalist and former political consultant, and founder of TheRealMainStream.com, a progressive, intersectional, LGBTQ-affirming publication serving Iowa and Illinois.