At last, my Covid-19 booster jab

I'd waited a long time to have it, but I finally got my Covid-19 booster jab yesterday afternoon. It was Astra-Zeneca in February and June; this time, Moderna. 

I was offered a second vaccination in early May, but unfortunately couldn't take it up, as I was departing for a five-week holiday in Scotland and the North of England the day before. I couldn't pursue a second vaccination until I returned home. Six months after that meant a booster in December, but by then demand for boosters was starting to surge, which is why I couldn't get an appointment until just before Christmas. 

So, for my age, I'm pretty late for the booster. But it's done now. 

Many of my local friends have been reporting dire reactions from their own boosters. Well, I had no discernible reaction at all until late yesterday evening, when my upper arm - it was the left arm again - felt slightly sore. But I do mean only slightly: I certainly slept on that arm overnight, when lying on my side. This morning the upper arm muscle is making a louder protest, just as if I'd over-exercised it. It's not aching, and I can't say it's truly sore - I can feel some tenderness if I prod the arm, but it's not bothersome. I can move it about as normal. And I don't feel ill or lethargic. This is how it was with the two previous Covid-19 jabs, and I'm hoping that this third undramatic reaction is now at its mild worst, and that it will gradually fade away by Christmas Day. 

Not that I'm doing anything social at Christmas now, not with the Omicron strain still on the rampage, and the need to give the booster jab a proper amount of time to reinforce my immunity. 

Playing for safety has disappointed some people, who have quite reasonably pointed out that, having now been boosted, I won't suffer much if I get infected. But I don't want to suffer at all. In any case, nobody can, hand on heart, guarantee that I won't have an illness with complications - and I certainly don't want to go anywhere near a hospital over Christmas. 

Beyond that, I've stayed infection-free since the pandemic began, and don't want to spoil that shining personal record simply to share Christmas and New Year cheer with strangers in a pub, however jolly the occasion. True, jostling crowds are rapidly thinning out in hostelries everywhere, with people in general getting wary of unnecessary exposure. But even so, I don't want to be kissed by some not-to-be-deterred, die-hard, anti-vax, tipsy Beer-Breath, stupidly spreading goodwill and Something Extra.  

But I'm not going to stay at home either! As I can use Fiona for the time being, pending her bodywork repair in early January, I envisage at least a couple of long days out to places I haven't visited for years, for a photographic orgy, just Lili and me. Taking a flask and something to snack on, naturally. I may of course be thwarted by icy weather, or even snow, and I won't be silly. But if it's merely cold, then I will answer the siren call of certain distant places.