“Can you talk about anything other than vaccines?” said my friend Jeff over the phone.
I think he could have thought of something else, because he lives in California, where the vaccination of the vaccine is smooth and he can only wait until his doctor calls him when it’s his turn.
But I can not talk about anything else, not in New York, whose system is so labyrinthine that it forces people to compete for appointments like ‘The Hunger Games’, or to simply give up. There is the state website, the city website, separate applications for Rite Aid, CVS and Walgreens, not to mention hospitals, smaller pharmacies and mysterious websites that seem to drop hundreds of doses in the middle of the night.
During the pandemic, some people baked bread, others arranged their cupboards, but now more and more people are trying to help strangers secure vaccines.
For me, it started in January, when I learned that people over 75 would qualify in New York. I tried to help my mother in Riverdale, my father-in-law in Queens, and my brother-in-law’s father in Washington Heights find appointments. This was a good thing, because within a few days, the system opened up to 65-year-olds, and then to people with comorbidities – a positive development, for sure, except that it left New York’s elderly and people without computers (or computer literacy) has. ) shotless.
Soon I was joining a Facebook group called New York / Connecticut Vaccine Hunters and Angels, or VaccineAngel.com, founded by Joel Leyden, who helped hundreds online and dozens online.
“I created VaccineAngel.com because I had the cyber and social media training to reach thousands,” Leyden said of appointments for suitable people (with first priority to seniors and first responders), as well as helping others looking for excess vaccines that might otherwise be discarded.
“I knew a professional group would save vaccines and save lives.”
Groups like these share not only links to available websites and vaccinations, but tips and tricks: like exactly when the state releases appointments (three minutes to half an hour) or what extension for automatic refresh to install in your browser, so you do not have to break your thumb by pressing the same “update” button.
After I started making appointments for eligible Facebook friends – one with a heart problem, another who was a cancer survivor and a parent with COVID in the hospital – I realized that I understand how to navigate the system, and that I can do the same for other qualifying people. . (My biggest coup among the thirty strangers: getting an 85-year-old couple from The Bronx vaccinated.)
I’m no hero. I just want this pandemic to be over. And as a journalist / crusader who wants to fight with the system and institutions to improve it, I also take a lot of satisfaction in fighting for the little guy – and by ‘guy’ I mean everyone in New York who sits and waits only for hours to tell that there are no appointments available.
And I’m not the only one.
“In the midst of a pandemic, when life is slow, it’s incredibly gratifying to find something challenging and useful next to my daily routine,” said Dana Siegal, a vaccine hunter who has helped dozens of people, including a few elderly, helped. women who cannot travel far.
“This is the most I’d talked to strangers in a year … I wish I could find more people to help!”
This rush – to receive emails of gratitude from strangers, to see photos of vaccinations, to finally have a sense of purpose and urgency – is indeed satisfying … and slightly addictive.
Some “Vaccine Angels” say they have dreams of automatically refreshing a website page, others say that it feels like every phone call that is not with a vaccination point is a waste of time, and some admit that it helps people become competitive . sport.
“Don’t you think you should stop now?” said my husband when he got home to see our young daughter eating in front of the TV … and I’m still talking to someone on the Vaccine hotline.
“I’m going to quit,” I promise my husband as I keep looking for someone’s father, who lives on what we call ‘The Dreaded Long Island’, due to lack of availability.
“I just have to give it another chance.”
Amy Klein is a writer living in NYC. Follow her on Twitter @AmydKlein and on Instagram.