Second Shot in the Arm

Getting a first dose of vaccine against coronavirus when I did, two months ago, had seemed a “count your blessings” kind of fortune for me. I’d got it by volunteering to take Oxford-AstraZeneca, but had thought the small risks talked up then both known and a one-time event in a way “having to go inside other buildings than my own” couldn’t be. Aches, chills, and general discombobulation a day later had worried me and left me concerned describing them might scare other people away from their own chances, but the day after that I was feeling better. Two weeks afterwards, I thought I ought to feel a bit less intimidated by what trips out my front door I had to make, but only a bit. The second booster shot was, of course, necessary.
( Counting down )