From the Editor: I got the shot in Tier ZZZZZ

I got stuck.
A week ago today, I got my first shot of Moderna COVID-19 vaccine. A feeling of tardiness accompanied the injection because eligibility had been expanded to include me — a 63-year-old, obese, smoking diabetic — weeks before.
But Louisiana still has a way to go. The latest report from the Louisiana Office of Public Health says about 1.6 million does, equal to about a third of the state’s population, have been administered, and more than 611,000 people have received either a second shot of mRNA vaccine (Moderna or Pfizer) or the single-dose Johnson & Johnson vaccine.
Polls continue to show what is known as “vaccine hesitancy” among Americans. About 30% of Americans say they don’t want the shot, according to a Pew Research Center poll in February. Nearly 40% of African Americans, a group hit especially hard by COVID-19, don’t intend to get the shot. Republicans (56%) are even more hesitant to get vaccinated.
But there’s less hesitancy than in previous polls, as more and more people get the vaccine without keeling over or growing gills. Nearly 11% of St. Mary and Assumption people have gotten the shot, according to the Office of Public Health, and about 8% of St. Martin people.
Maybe you’re still deciding. Here’s what it was like for me:
First, you need an appointment. The rumor mill said appointments can be tough to get, but I scored on the first call to a nearby Walmart pharmacy. The appointment was made about a week before vaccination day.
The Office of Public Health website has a form you’re supposed to download and sign, attesting to the fact that you have at least one of the 23 health conditions that make people who are over 55 eligible for the vaccine. (Eligibility has since been expanded to those over 16 with one or more co-morbidities, and then to adults with jobs deemed essential.)
I filled out my form and took it with me to Walmart on the appointed day.
There, I waited in line 20 minutes to find out I was in the wrong line. It turns out I was supposed to go to the window helpfully labeled “Drop Off.”
More waiting.
When my turn arrived, I handed the form to the lady behind the window.
“Nah,” she said. “We don’t need that.”
Dude. They ignored my form.
The lady then proceeded to ask me for the information that was on the form. She also wanted my ID and my insurance card.
The ID request was understandable. We’re all supposed to get vaccinated eventually, but we don’t want anyone getting safe before it’s their turn, do we?
But why the insurance card? There was no charge to me, or so I was told. No co-pay or deductible or anything.
Still, nothing about health insurance ever makes sense. We pressed on.
After collecting information about my health shortcomings, the lady finally said to wait for the shot in chair No. 3.
Not chair No. 2, or chair No. 4, but chair No. 3. They couldn’t put up a sign that says “COVID shots here,” but all the chairs were numbered.
After about 15 minutes, a young woman led me behind one of those office cubicle partitions for the actual shot.
You’ll be happy to know that medical science continues to advance. Now, instead of giving you the shot and then putting a little round Band-Aid on your arm, they put the Band-Aid on first and stick the needle through it.
The shot itself didn’t hurt. Afterward, the young woman handed me a digital timer set for 15 minutes and told me to have a seat outside the pharmacy windows until the time ran out.
Lacking specific instructions, I went for chair No. 4.
They say a watched pot never boils. But if you want to slow down time, try staring at a 15-minute timer when you’re sitting with a bunch of people who think they need COVID shots.
My time finally expired — an ominous phrase under the circumstances — so I turned in my timer, got my “got my shot” card and set up the appointment for the required second dose.
By the way, I learned why the pharmacy window was labeled “Drop Off.” I went home, had a bite of lunch and then dropped off for the next 12 hours.
Experts say different people experience different mild side effects. Aside from some soreness in the arm where I got the shot, my reaction was a deep sleep.
My wife said later she tried to wake me up to say she was going to the store. I have to take her word for it.
My mom, who is 82 and lives in Missouri, said she also experienced some drowsiness after her first Moderna shot. Another person in Morgan City said he and his wife wondered if they got a sugar water injection because they experienced no side effects at all.
Others have reported fatigue, minor headaches and the medical condition technically known as “blah.”
Anyway, nothing on the list of side effects outweighs the feeling you get from knowing you’ve done your part, that you’ve moved Louisiana a little closer to mask-less gatherings, visits with relatives, open bars and sit-down meals in restaurants.
And maybe you'll even get to catch up on your sleep.
Bill Decker is managing editor of The Daily Review.