My vaccine saga ends with heavenly help

My experience reminded me of how the Salvation Army was founded in 1865 London.

One-time Methodist Reform Church minister William Booth and his wife Catherine Booth established London’s East End Christian Mission in the most brutally impoverished area in the city. The reverend’s mission was to convert East Enders to Christianity -- the poor, prostitutes, gamblers and alcoholics -- through sharing the Holy Scriptures.

However, the Booth’s soon found that until their parishioners had a place to wash and had a filling meal, they had difficulty in hearing and understanding God’s Word.

William Booth would later describe the organization’s approach as “The Three S’s” -- first soup, second soap and finally, salvation. This was the beginning of what we know today as the Salvation Army, which now provides many, many types of assistance for those in need.

In a time of a ravaging pandemic, until people receive the COVID-19 vaccine, they may be hesitant to attend in-person worship services and other religious programs -- for all churches, synagogues, mosques and temples. I can equate this need for vaccinations with those early East Enders with their need for food in their empty bellies before being ready to hear the Salvation Army’s sermons.

In my own saga, I began making inquiries about how to get a dose of the vaccine a full two months before it was supplied to the states. My primary care physician referred me to my pharmacist and my pharmacist referred me to my physician. Obviously, they didn’t know.

As soon as my friends found Austin’s Health Department’s vaccine appointment site, I made it my part-time job to sign up for the vaccines and monitor those sites -- at various pharmacies, city and county health departments, dispensaries in grocery stores in neighboring communities and hospitals.

My sister, an RN, even found a pharmacy in Waller, a 2.5 hours jaunt from Dripping, with open appointments, which I had to gratefully decline.

So back to checking signup websites, like hospitals, pharmacies and health departments. Even when Austin announced it would be making appointments on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I dutifully and religiously complied. Still, despite my efforts, no appointments were to be had.

Then about 10 days ago, while working with an Austin client, my son shared about my fruitless search and difficulty I was having booking a vaccination appointment. As it happened, she was taking her husband for his dose in a few days, but she had decided against taking the vaccine -- at least for now. She offered her appointment to me and told my son about how their pastor had been able to make appointments for more than 70 of his flock over the past two months.

My son called the pastor, gave him my information and about three hours later, emailed that I had an appointment at 4 p.m. the next day through UTHealth at the Dell Medical School.

Because it was raining and near freezing the next day, my son received a text, asking us to come early because they wanted their volunteers to be able to leave before rush hour.

In hyper-compliance mode, we were in the car, heading down Mo-Pac in a twinkling, arriving at Gregory Gym on the UT campus by 2:30 p.m.

The weather grew worse as we finally found a parking place, in time to see a parade of seniors using canes and walkers streaming out of the gym. Inside, we took the elevator to the third floor and after navigating several tables for information recording, we took our places in a socially-distanced line.

After less than 5 minutes, I was assigned to Table 20, where I was greeted by a pleasant, very personable pharmacy student. He handed a vaccination record card to me and administered a barely-noticeable injection.

I was then sent to a waiting area, where nurses periodically checked for any side effects and made an appointment for my second injection. After 15 minutes, I was allowed to leave. It was still raining, still bonechillingly cold but, luckily, University police were being generous and our vehicle had not been ticketed or towed.

Admittedly, after the vaccine had been injected, I heaved a sigh of relief. I had begun my journey and in two weeks or so, I would be a smaller target for the killer pandemic…and as I sat in the holding area, I said a prayer of thanks for the young pastor who, between scheduling COVID-19 vaccine appointments, must have been reading the Book of John, Chapter 21, in which Jesus asks Peter: “Do you love me.” Peter answers, “Lord, you know I do.” Then Jesus says, “Then feed my flock,” meaning grow my church and be like a shepherd - feed, give shelter and care for all people.”