Sunday, February 14, 2021

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Since I got my second Moderna COVID vaccine on Wednesday, several people have messaged or called me to ask how I felt and what, if any, side effects I experienced. 

I got my first dose of the vaccine on January 13th. The only side effect I had was arm pain—not a surface pain like a puncture or  scratch, but a deep muscle pain that is comparable to what I feel when I've moved up a weight level in my exercises and have overdone it. My deltoid gave me twinges to say "Hey, I'm here and I'm not happy" with almost any activity, but it certainly alerted me to its discomfort when I tried to lift the arm above shoulder level. 

How bad was the pain? Not very bad at all—on the tried-and-true "one to ten" scale that medical professionals often ask patients to use in rating their pain, I'd have put it at a four overall, with a few hours on Thursday morning hitting a five, perhaps. But by Friday, it had largely gone away, and I was totally back to normal by Saturday evening.

"But the second vaccine is going to be a lot worse," a number of people told me. I heard horror stories about fever, extreme chills, nausea, intense migraine-like headaches, whole body aches, and more. I was told be several people that I should plan on taking two days off when I got my second vaccine.

It is no surprise to those who know me that I didn't listen to that advice. 

I got my second shot at about 10:30am on February 10th. I worked a full day after that, exercised (both walking and weights), and went to dinner with my best friends who always join us on Wednesdays. We finished dinner at about 7:45 and felt fine. 

It was about 9pm or so that I began feeling the soreness in my right deltoid (I'm left handed, so I get the shot in my right arm). It became a little more sore as the night progressed. We went to bed a little after one in the morning, and by that time my arm was sore enough that I was having trouble positioning it without discomfort. Again, the pain felt like a severe muscle pain, not a surface pain--although putting pressure on the injection site made the overall pain more intense. By the time I went to bed, the pain had already surpassed the worst pain level of the first vaccine—on that old one to ten scale, I'd have ranked it at a five overall with some moments of a six-level pain.

As I was getting in bed, I had a few moments of shivering, but I don't know if they were really chills or just a reaction to the pain. When I am in pain, I tend to perspire a bit. I sleep with a fan on. So I was standing in front of a fan, feeling the effects of evaporative cooling—that may not have been a chill at all. I know I did not have any body temperature fluctuations, because I checked it consistently—I never fluctuated more than two-tenths of a degree from my 97.5° body temperature norm. And the shivering went away as soon as I got in bed, never to return.

The arm pain got worse for me as the night went on. Soon, even the weight of my arm was painful. The effects of the pain were evident on my sleeping: normally, I sleep for six or seven hours, and all but about 45 minutes of that will be quality sleep, with about 35% to 40% of that being deep sleep. On Wednesday night/Thursday morning, I was in bed for nine hours and 47 minutes, but only four hours of that was quality sleep and only 15 minutes was deep sleep. Most significantly, my sleeping heart rate (which normally declines to about 75 beats per minute—and I know that sounds high for most people, but that's  real drop over my normal 95 bpm resting heart rate when I'm awake) never dropped below 96 bpm, while my resting-awake heart rate held at about 105-110.

By Thursday morning, the pain was maintaining at a seven with some moments spiking to an eight. I was so limited that I had to get dress using reach-across techniques I haven't used since I broke my hand several decades ago. Even so, I was able to go to work at get a fair amount done, although I know that I wasn't working to my normal levels.

By Thursday night, things began to improve. My pain dropped back to a level five or so, and I was able to sleep. My sleep tracker numbers returned to my norm: 8:24 sleep, 7:36 quality sleep, and an amazing 4:42 deep sleep, with an average sleeping heart rate of 74. When I awoke Friday, the pain had declined even further, to perhaps four or so. By the end of the day Friday, it was down to a 2 at worse, 

Did I have side effects from the second vaccination? Obviously. Were they worse than the side effects from the first vaccination. Undoubtedly. Would I still get the second vaccination knowing this? Absolutely! The psychological boost of knowing that I am now vaccinated and that, if all goes well, I will be largely COVID-resistant by February 27th, is immense. I will continue to be careful and take precautions when I'm in public, but I will feel that my life is closer to normal, and I will no longer be apprehensive about visiting friends or family who are not a part of my direct circle of contacts. 

I also feel like I've done my part to help deter the spread of this devastating illness. And if they tell me this time next year I need a booster, I'll be the first in line to take it, even if they warn me that it might have similar side effects to the second shot. And now I'm hoping that they can expand the eligible base for this vaccine as soon as possible so that more of my friends can experience the sense of relief that comes with completing the two-vaccine regimen.

Tuesday, February 09, 2021

Biblio Philos

 Today I spent an hour or so carrying boxes of books back and forth between the main house and the overflow house. Last spring I purchased four bookshelves to go in the dining room. At the time, I filled them with mystery hardcovers (mostly Susan's, but some mine) that had been overstocked and upstairs shelves. Then, in the summer, I began moving a couple of shelves' worth of books between the houses, replacing the mysteries with my horror, science fiction, comics, fantasy, and literary volumes that spoke to me. These are the books I'm more likely to read and re-read, to refer back to, and the revisit, so why not make that a convenient process.

So many friends. Book after book reminded me of an encounter, a conversation, a friendship, or a close kinship with the author. These aren't just words on paper. They're unchanging connections to people I have known, preserved in paper and fabric and leather. Some of the people are still with us today, some aren't—but on my bookshelves, they're always here.

Piers Anthony—sometimes erudite, sometimes conspiratorial, a man who smiled with his eyes.

Michael Bishop—a gentle, thoughtful soul whose intellect counterbalances his literary passion.

Isaac Asimov—Gregarious, confident, amiable, unpredictable, and always fascinating.

Jack Kirby—Engaging, kind, amiable, continually creative, and always looking ahead eagerly at his next project.

Philip K. Dick—Mercurial, intense, sometimes troubled, and never predictable.

Stan Lee—Self-effacing yet confident, brash, loquacious, but always eager to please and appreciative of the admiration of his fans.

Thomas Burnett Swann—Scholarly, refined, genteel, with a love for the written word more intense than I've ever seen in another writer.

Stephen King... Clive Barker... Philip Jose Farmer... Ray Bradbury... Robert A. Heinlein... E. Hoffman Price... L. Sprague de Camp... Greg Benford... Hal Clement... Kelly Freas... Michael Whelan... Jim Steranko... Neal Adams... Murphy Anderson... George Alec Effinger... Frank Miller...  Each meeting with each of them lives on in the books on my shelves. I have no idea if I'll meet some of them in person again; others are no longer with us, so I will only know them through these books and the memories they bring back as I look at the books.

Why do I keep books? Friends live in those pages, that's why.