At Last, a Vax.

There we were, at the beginning of the end of that shitty year.

Covid-19 rampaged on.

In California, we were badly losing the battle against the virus. Daily new case averages were at 13,000 plus. Hospitalizations were up 88%; the ICUs saw a 57% increase of Covid occupancy. Projections showed we’d run out of ICU beds before Christmas Eve. With Thanksgiving infections arriving within the week, we were about to be overrun. On November 30^th, the United States recorded almost 2,600 deaths in a single day, the highest since April 15^th.

The limited shelter-in-place order was about to evolve to a more stringent lockdown. Why that didn’t happen before the onset of the holiday season wasn’t too puzzling; Governor Newsom was carrying lobbyist weight of both small and big businesses. In short, we chose the path of livelihood and commerce over the saving of lives. We apparently were willing to roll the dice on potentially writing off two percent of the entire Californian population.

Fool that I am, I really thought it’d have all been over by then.

How naïve I was.

You think you know a guy.

It was almost Christmas.

We were in deep shit.

The big holiday was nigh and the same reluctance to downgrade celebratory gatherings was going to taint Christmas same as it did Thanksgiving. More people would, and did, unnecessarily die.

The U.K. became the first nation to approve a Covid vaccine, ordering 40 million doses, enough to vaccinate 20 million people. The first doses of Pfizer and BioNTech’s vaccine rolled out to Brits the second week of December, first at hospitals, then vaccination centers, then private offices of physicians and pharmacies. They established tiers of priority in descending order of need: (1) residents in care facilities and their caregivers, front line health care workers, and those over 80, (2) those over 65 and individuals between the ages of 16-64 with underlying health conditions, (3) 60 and over, (4) 55 and over, (5) 50 and over, and (6) everybody else.

I presumed the U.S. would tier the same way, though we’d probably insert authority figures like politicians and celebrities somewhere in the upper tier regardless of age. What that meant was, my girl was in the second tier while I myself was in the next to last tier, and my level probably wouldn’t see any jabs until early spring at best.

Former Presidents Clinton, Bush, and Obama agreed to have their vaccinations filmed and televised to promote public confidence in the vaccine’s safety. A certain incumbent executive was suspiciously missing from that executive collective of public service.

The anti-vaxxers went nuts, as expected. I understand the ideology behind anti-vaccination rhetoric. There’s some logic to it, but it tends to disregard a greater proportion of success over a smaller proportion of adverse reactions. There are indeed enough issues in vaccine histories to warrant legitimate concern. Yes, some children died or became disabled because of the administration of a vaccine. Most children do not. It really came down to what we believed was the greater risk: the chance of dying of Covid, or the chance a vaccine might have unknown side effects. One of those fractions was greater than the other. It was basic math.

What could be taken to task fairly was how vaccine science wasn’t absolute, or guaranteed safe for all. If someone wanted to blame someone or some institution for that, it was understandable. Perhaps we might have started at the top – if government properly funded medical research to the degree that it could rather than the degree that it does, that success rate would come much closer to a degree of one hundred percent.

The mRNA vaccines from Pfizer and Moderna used messenger RNA to instruct cells to create a coronavirus spike protein, alerting the immune system to fire up. There were also vector vaccines – AstraZeneca at Oxford and the Russian vaccine Sputnik – which used adenoviruses derived from the common cold that attached to cells and injected DNA which guided those cells in making the coronavirus spike protein. There were protein subunit vaccines which used genetically engineered insect viruses to infect subjects like moths, whose spike proteins were then harvested and made into vaccines. And there were inactivated virus vaccines which required batches of Covid to be grown, then killed via heat or chemicals, then crafted into a vaccine that elicited an immune response.

As we all came to know, the Pfizer and Moderna strains became the ones that prevailed.

The basic methodology behind any vaccine is to augment the process in which the immune system learns about a new virus that’s invaded the system, and how quickly it learns about the invader. In much of vaccine history, that’s been done by creating a weaker version of the offending virus, one that exhibits some fraction of the viral protein in question, so that the immune system learns to recognize it and formulate defenses against it. Those vaccines are known as ‘live-attenuated’ versions, the same kinds that overcame polio and measles. Johnson and Johnson’s vaccine was one of the former. The mRNA vaccines were different from live attenuated versions because they didn’t actually have the virus in them, only a small piece of its genetic code. The genome specified the spike protein which the novel coronavirus generated. It was the same component of the virus that antibodies go after when fighting the bug off.

Moderna and Pfizer improved upon an old strategy by making tiny artificial bags of fatty molecules and filled them with the virus RNA code so they’d make some of the spike protein, yet left out the replicating portions of the RNA that normally allows the virus to make copies of itself. Those ‘fat bags’ of RNA were injected into the arm, the cells in the muscle incorporated the RNA and made the initial protein spikes, immune cells detected the spikes, and recognized them as foreign bodies. That pain in your arm after the shot is because the emergent protein spikes and the immune cells are going at it, as the immunity system figures out the invading sucker is a bogey.

The second dose of the vaccine provided additional exposure to the spike proteins to further train immune cells. Scientists liked the RNA approach because it didn’t actually introduce the full-blown virus into the system. The injected RNA was a natural molecule the body clears out over time.

The reason all that happened as quickly as it did is because there were decades of existing research to build upon. Epidemiologists were studying coronaviruses, gene expression, and molecular biology for some time. They were ready to mobilize once the new bug was identified, especially with advances in the fabrications of nanoscale fat bags to hold RNA proteins. It was actually a pretty impressive component of science that’s too often unappreciated, until shit like the Coronapocalypse hit. Those first Covid vaccines were 94-95% effective; in contrast, standard seasonal flu vaccines tend to run at a 40-60% efficacy.

Yes. Some few folks would experience bad side effects from a vaccine. That’s true for any and all pharmaceutical and medicinal treatment, not just new vaccines. Some would incur issues down the road derived from their vaccination. And yes, some few might’ve died. That’s part of the epidemiology picture, when you’re talking about a planet with 8 billion mammals on it. Our current state of medical science isn’t perfect by any means. Were those aforementioned risks more dangerous than what the Covid-19 epidemic was doing to our society? Not even a close contest. Numbers didn’t lie.

Unfortunately, we were faced with a collective decision to soldier through a risk either way we chose. The likelihood of dying from a Covid vaccine, or experiencing long term complications from it, was much less than the likelihood of dying from Covid or experiencing long term complications from it. Yes, it sucked we didn’t have alternative choices, other than staying quarantined or isolated until (or if) the virus burned itself out in the global cycle, which could’ve taken years, and there was no guarantee one wouldn’t be randomly infected at some future point after the pandemic waned and Covid became more of a flu-like, seasonal condition.

Covid is still around, here in 2024. People do still die from it.

I was no less inclined than anyone else in not wanting to inject new things in my body. If given a choice, I prefer letting my body fight off infections naturally. But Covid was different. It was new. It was deadlier. Because of its higher danger to others, I had to reconsider my former positions and approach the problem with new filters and methodology.

I saw videos of dying Covid patients. It was not pretty. While I don’t relish the idea of an early onset whatever derived from a late-in-life vaccine, the objective evidence led to the obvious conclusion that to protect others less immune-strong than myself, I had to run that gauntlet whether I wanted to or not. Living in a society requires putting others before one’s self. That’s the unsigned yet commonly upheld social contract we all agreed to, when we decided to stay within the borders of civilization rather than heading off to a monastery in Tibet or living off grid in a backwoods homestead.  

I tossed another clichéd pop culture quote in the narrative during this segment, one from Tolkien. Aw, you saw that coming? Ah well. I’m not always unpredictable. This one was a virtually guaranteed citation, given our context at hand, and the real wonder you might consider is how in heaven’s name I didn’t sling it our way before now.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Finally, Governor Newsom lowered another boom in California. Because of our ICU capacity hitting a dreaded watermark of 15% or less, a new Californian shutdown was imposed across the San Joaquin Valley and Southern California. Those regions hosted 33 million residents, about 84% of the entire state population. The new quarantine remained in place for three weeks, through the big holiday to December 28^th.

Its new restrictions were less restrictive than the initial stay-at-home order in the spring. All restaurants halted both indoor and outdoor dining. Gatherings of people from different households were prohibited save for outdoor church services and political demonstrations. Hair and nail salons, playgrounds, zoos and museums, card rooms and wineries all shuttered. Nonessential travel and leisure stay at hotels were banned. Retail shops remained open but only at 20% capacities. All that happened not to stem the tide of increased infection, but to give health care professionals the space, ability, and wherewithal to handle maximum admissions at regional hospitals.

Again, the Californian dogs of commerce howled, decrying their state overlord’s tyrannical unfairness, lobbying for recall votes and blaming those in power for their own slacking.  I had nothing but utmost sympathy for families in such dire economic straits. Those were dire times.

But nothing was different in the math…bankruptcy, while devastating, was still a lesser animal than death. A mid-life or late-in-life start over was a rough patch, for sure. It was still better than contributing to the deaths of potential millions, or being among those dead millions. There were still business owners trying to find workarounds, mostly in the forms of defying the ban outright, especially in California regions like our ever so entitled Orange County, where local officials weren’t inclined to enforce the necessary compliance.

It was interesting, if one thought about alternative scenarios that would require business owners to start from scratch and accept a need for a do-over. Nobody would’ve protested or called for recalls if an ‘act of god’ had wiped out their business. A tornado, a tsunami, a fire, an earthquake, widespread destruction of a city, a stock market crash…those would all be acceptable forms of life-changing circumstances that might put folks in the poorhouse. Those events are more tangible manifestations of business-ending phenomena. The virus was a creeping, invisible thing.

Because the virus was microscopic, out of sight and out of mind for most folks, and there were still people walking the streets, and there were no bodies piling up on the corners, it seemed like Covid was a survivable thing as long as enough of us were still upright and enough of us survived their infections, right? So why not keep doors open?

By continuing interactive transactions of commerce requiring in-person attendance, we were promoting not only the spread of the virus, but also the mindset that life must go on despite the virus, be it holiday occasions or daily commerce, and that a 2% mortality rate was an acceptable cost of continuing our expected way of life.

The families who paid that price tended to differ in that perspective.

Over 20,000 lives were lost so far in California at the beginning of December. Were those lives worth keeping Californian restaurants and small businesses open? Some say yes. Some say no. Folks who adhered to the former position were only able to rest on those laurels mostly because they hadn’t personally felt the losses their support of that economic priority had incurred.

Put it another way. Would any of those advocates for keeping businesses open change their tune if they knew for certain that their wife or husband or child would lose their life to the coronavirus if they stuck to that tenet? Of course they wouldn’t. If they knew their child was going to die from the virus because they’d kept their business running in spite of recommended protocols, they’d suck it up and shutter doors. It would only matter to them if they knew it would affect them directly.

Only if it’s in my backyard. 

And sure, even after all those months, there still were some who abjectly believed bankruptcy was akin to death.

And still, it was categorically not.

Considering the American mandate to succeed, the exceptionalist illusion we all labor under, it’s not difficult to see why so many believed otherwise. There was a reason why stockbrokers in the Great Depression threw themselves from buildings. There was a reason why that farmer who hung himself because he’d bone-dog worked his entire life to set up a feed store only to have Covid interrupt his supply chain and crash his books. There was a reason why folks were reluctant to risk homelessness.

Do you know what that reason is?

We don’t have fail safes or backups for such contingencies.

Why not?

Because in accordance with our ruling class dictates, we continue to insist on allocating resources based on tribal ethos.

In the United States, those precepts drive the funding for the same things they always have: staying in power, defense, border security, and upholding religious philosophies and structures over scientific ones.

There’s no free lunch.

That’s the American way.

We’re not going to cut our nuclear program budgets, we’re not going to ask billionaires to donate half their hedge funds to the poor, we’re not going to waive mortgage and rent payments.

Government capital reserves traditionally earmarked for political, military, or industrial endeavors weren’t going to be transferred to public emergency funds to cover the cost of living for 330 million Americans.

Not because it couldn’t be done, but simply because it’s never been done before, and it was sociological anathema to a free market system. The Democratic National Committee and the Republican National Committee spent 1.7 and 1.9 billion dollars respectively on campaigns…during a pandemic. Close to 4 billion dollars spent on something that in essence, could’ve been handled on a shoestring budget with standard internet connections and a couple of old school wooden soapboxes. What those billions could’ve been spent on instead? A whole lot, including pandemic stimulus relief and giving Americans the ability to pay their rent without breaking quarantine. It was a pittance in big government and it would’ve been invaluable to Americans.

Not realistic?

Too socialist?

Here we are again. All locked and blocked, coded and keyed to that ever-shining beacon of free market capitalism, coupled hand-in-hand with its life partner, white supremacy.

Same as we have no trouble spending our hard-earned money on roads and schools and utilities and public services like hospitals and cops and fire personnel, there really ought not to be so much resistance to reallocating a wildly overblown budget for national defense. Invasion seems like a long shot at this point in history. We still have the most threatening nuclear arsenal on the planet. We’re still the only country who’s used them. Short of a Japanese salvo in a World War on a few of our Pacific territories, we’ve never actually had a single attempt from a marauding, rogue nation to breach our shores and conquer us…well, that is, us Second Nation People, us whiteboy colonialists. Native Americans have a different history. 

Perhaps resources for national defense could’ve temporarily be put on hold, and spent on Covid relief, and maybe we could’ve run the ‘risk’ of having to fall back on our oh-so-antiquated military reserves, should foreign interests choose to assault us during that global pandemic. Maybe putting the tanks in the garage for twelve months might not have been an absolute threat to democracy. At the time, it appeared China and Russia had their hands full same as we did.

Some folks might’ve thought I wasn’t taking into account the complicated checks and balances of free market globalism and international nation-state politicking, the trade wars and the sanctions, the diplomacy and the saber-rattling, the corporate kickbacks and the sweetheart arms deals, the spy-craft and the intelligence-gathering, the disinformation campaigns and the nationalist intrigue, the need for manning the walls with armed force to defend our way of life, all that cocked-up, human razzmatazz implemented to advance American interests around the world.

I’ve heard it all before, that my pie-in-the-sky pushes toward a spiritual and intellectual reboot for humanity don’t suit a harsh world accustomed to dealing in realism over idealism, a world that’s operated a certain way for a certain time and is not going to change to serve an ideology that seems like a child’s fantasy.

And yet.

The truth is an over-under wager.

Most people take the low end because of the world they have come to know. I take the high end, because I often see the world as it could be, rather than what it’s become. Some call that naïveté. It’s more of a curse. The only reason the necessary revamping in existing sociopolitical systems is so hard to envision is because we’ve shackled ourselves to what we’re accustomed to, rather than taking the risks of plunging into unknown territory.

Seeing the world as it could be, is much harder than accepting it for what it is.

*Compiled from December 1, 2020