
The second injection, which I’m going to three weeks after the first, it’s already a routine. The same Moscow Clinic Number 46 on Kazakova Street, the same elderly nurse in PPE [personal protective equipment] at the entrance — she has an electronic thermometer in her hands. I seem to have the same temperature as last time: 36.2 [degrees Celsius, or 97 degrees Fahrenheit].
As for what’s new — the streams of volunteers are divided between two floors. The examination before the first jab is on the third floor, the vaccination is on the second. When I came for the first injection they did everything in one place.
I’m expecting to see a crowd of people, but there’s a total of ten people on the first floor. A bored young nurse sits at the reception desk on the second floor — she’s leaned over a folder marked “Mosgaz,” in front of her is a list of the last names of those who are registered for the second injection. I’m not on the list or in the general database — I go into the office of a bored, young general practitioner who, swearing silently, finds me by my policy number on the fifth try.
I’m wondering what would have happened if they hadn’t found my information in the database: would I have been listed as an official volunteer somewhere at least? Instead of answering, the general practitioner takes my blood pressure. The top number is 138.
“Kind of high,” I worry.
“It’s acceptable,” the doctor replies.
“Doctor, in case you’re wondering. You know, I still have pain in my arm, where they gave me the first injection, and three weeks have gone by.”
“It’s acceptable.”
“And you know, I’m just so weak, either it’s the autumn or it’s your vaccine.
“It’s acceptable.”
After me, a fit, youthful woman of about sixty comes into the general practitioner’s office. She’s getting the vaccine so [she can] “go to the regions and not infect anyone.” She says that “one girl at the front desk promised to say [if] it’s the vaccine or the placebo.” Behind her, Pavel, a bioinformatics specialist, is waiting his turn — he wants “to convince his relatives by setting an example.” Two more women in their fifties say that now they can go to work at the office, “but sitting like that, letting the grass grow under your feet, you don’t know who to believe and who is telling the truth.” An elderly man, who looks to be about 70, is getting vaccinated so he can “watch his grandchildren”; one of them is seven years old and the other is ten.
A young nurse gives me the shot: before the injection, he asks [me] to warm the vial with the vaccine in my hand (the first time they injected me with a cold one). We conferred for a while over which arm to inject — the one that still hurts from the first injection or the other one? We agree that we need to inject the other one — for the symmetry.
An abruptly stuffy nose, my muscles ache and I feel hot.
My head has started to hurt.
My muscles still ache, my neck hurts terribly.
Headache.
Throat ache. The telemedicine center calls everyday, like clockwork.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Since I don’t have any symptoms, I start tallying what I did during the three weeks between the injections.
In the entryway, they posted a notice that says “[Dear residents! Get vaccinated against COVID-19 for free! A safe vaccine based on modern technology. A vaccine, created at the Russian Health Ministry’s N.F. Gamaleya National Research Institute of Epidemiology, has passed pre-registration clinical trials and has arrived at City Clinic Number 46, address: 17 Kazakova St.”
The notice doesn’t say a word about the fact that the vaccine is still undergoing clinical trials.
They call me from the clinic and say that now they’re putting together a list for checking coronavirus antibody levels. “We’ll definitely tell you when it’s your turn, Svetlana Sergeevna,” they say.
Story by Svetlana Reiter
Translation by Eilish Hart