My arm really hurts, and I’ve had a head ache for about 9 hours now. I feel like I have cotton in my mouth, and my entire body aches.

I’ve been ranting on Facebook and to anyone who could listen that I’m frustrated because, as front line direct support workers in the community, we’re not receiving covid 19 vaccines. A lot of my frustration is driven by the fact that times in a pandemic are mores stressful than anyone could imagine.

The hardest part for me has not being able to spend time with my family at holidays. My mom’s moved out to Fort Qu’Appelle because she feels safer there, and I can’t say as I blame her. In the two or so interactions I’ve had with people in commercial stores the last few weeks I haven’t felt really safe. Yes, people are wearing mask and sanitizing their hands; yet, there’s something selfish about how people just carry on. In a way it feels like walking over someone’s grave every time I go out. It feels like I’m taking a risk–Saskatchewan has a lot of new cases, and over 1000 of them are in Regina.

Yesterday, I got word that I might be eligible to get in for a vaccine. Today.

Then later last night, I got absolute confirmation that I did in fact qualify.

I cried. I sobbed. I’m on the road to being able to see my mom again. And there I go, crying one more time.

Damn it.

I felt grateful, I felt relieved. I felt guilty.

There are still so many people who haven’t got their vaccines yet. People that I know, that I care very deeply about. People that I want to see safe. People I want to be able to share experiences in life with. I want to get married! I want to be ordained! I want to travel! While I know it’s probably never going to be like it was before covid, there’s going to be (I hope) some sense of normality again.

When I sat down next to my nurse, I started crying. I told her about how my family in England had all got covid, and how I’d lost someone so special, Silvia. I told her about how Silvia was the type of person that if something was going to happen, it was going to happen to her. She was a magnet it seemed for medical issues. I told her about how when she went into the hospital in Arizona, her numbers weren’t great, but she was doing really well. Then I told her about how fast and how suddenly Silvia just passed. And I cried some more.

I told the nurse that I wanted to do the injection for Silvia. I wanted to remember her in that moment. And I cried some more.

I know a lot of people are posting pictures on Facebook and Instagram of themselves with their stickers. I’m going to ask, when you get your first vaccine injection, do it for someone you’ve lost. Remember someone who’s gone.

I miss you so, so much Mama. I’m sad you won’t be here for my ordination, or my wedding. I’m sad I won’t be able to come to Arizona to see you.

But I want you to know I’m grateful that there are still people who miss you with me, that share the grief still with me.

I miss you so much.