“Can we talk about anything more than vaccines?” said my friend Jeff on the phone.
I guess he could think of something else because he lives in California, where the vaccine implantation is fluid and he can just wait for the doctor to call him when it’s his turn.
But I can’t talk about anything else, not in New York, whose system is so labyrinthine that it has forced people to compete for dates like the “Hunger Games” or just give up frustration. There’s the state website, the city website, separate apps for Rite Aid, CVS, and Walgreens, not to mention hospitals, smaller pharmacies, and mysterious places that seem to drop hundreds of doses at midnight.
During the pandemic, some people made bread, others organized their closets, but now there are a growing number of people trying to help strangers get vaccine appointments.
For me, it started in January, when I learned that people over the age of 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 dates. It was a good thing, because in a few days the system opened up to people aged 65, and then to people with comorbidities, surely a positive development, except that it left the elderly and people of New York without computers (no knowledge computer science). ) without features.
I soon joined a Facebook group called New York / Connecticut Vaccine Hunters and Angels, or VaccineAngel.com, created by Joel Leyden, who has helped hundreds online and dozens offline.
“I created VaccineAngel.com because I had cyber and social media training to reach thousands of people,” Leyden said of the appointment of eligible people (with priority for seniors and first aid), as well as to help others looking for excess vaccines that might otherwise be discarded.
“I knew a professional group would save vaccines and save lives.”
Groups like these not only share links to available sites and vaccines, but also tips and tricks: such as what exact time the status posts appointments (three minutes to half an hour) or what automatic update extension is installed. in the browser so you don’t have to break your thumb by pressing the same “refresh” button.
After I started making appointments for eligible Facebook friends (one with heart problems, another cancer survivor and had a father hospitalized with COVID), I realized that I understood how to navigate the system and that I could do the same for to other eligible persons. . (My most important coup among the 30 strangers: vaccinating an 85-year-old Bronx couple.)
I am no hero. I just want this pandemic to end. And, as a journalist / crusader who likes to fight the system and institutions in order to improve them, I also have immense satisfaction in fighting for the little boy, and by “little boy” I mean everyone in New York who is sitting for hours only indicates that no appointments are available.
And I’m not the only one.
“In the midst of a pandemic, when life is slow, it’s incredibly rewarding to find something other than my day-to-day that is challenging and useful,” said Dana Siegal, a vaccine hunter who has helped dozens of people, including some elderly women who cannot travel far.
“It’s the most I’ve talked to strangers in a year … I wish I could find more people to help!”
This rush: receiving thank-you emails from strangers, seeing photos of vaccinated people, finally having a sense of purpose and urgency – is indeed satisfying … and slightly addictive.
Some “Angels of the Vaccine” report dreaming of automatically refreshing a website page, others say they feel that any phone call that doesn’t have a vaccine hotline is a waste of time, and some admit that it helps to people are becoming a competitive place. sport.
“Don’t you think you should stop now?” said my husband when he came home to find our daughter eating in front of the TV … and I was still talking to someone on the vaccine hotline.
“I’ll stop,” I promised my husband while 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 one more shot.”
Amy Klein is a New York City-based writer. Follow her on Twitter @AmydKlein take Instagram.