“Can you talk about anything other than vaccines?” my friend Jeff said on the phone.
I think he might think of something else, because he lives in California, where the vaccine rollout is going smoothly and he can just wait for his doctor to call him when it’s his turn.
But I can’t talk about anything else, not in New York, where the system is so labyrinthine that people are forced to compete for deals like The Hunger Games, or just give up in frustration. There’s the state website, the city website, separate applications for Rite Aid, CVS, and Walgreens, not to mention hospitals, smaller pharmacies, and mysterious sites that seem to drop hundreds of doses in the middle of the night.
During the pandemic, some people were baking bread, others were organizing their cupboards, but now a growing number of people are trying to help strangers make vaccination appointments.
For me, it started back in January, when I heard that people over 75 would qualify in New York. I tried to help my mom in Riverdale, my father-in-law in Queens, and my brother-in-law’s dad in Washington Heights find appointments. It was a good thing, because within a few days the system opened up to 65-year-olds, and then to those with co-morbidities – a positive development, sure, except it left the elderly in New York and those without computers (or computer literacy). ) without shot.
Soon enough, I joined a Facebook group called New York / Connecticut Vaccine Hunters and Angels, or VaccineAngel.com, founded by Joel Leyden, who has helped hundreds online and dozens offline.
“I founded VaccineAngel.com because I had the cyber and social media training to reach thousands,” said Leyden of making appointments for eligible people (with first priority for the elderly and first responders), and helping others with look for excess vaccines that may otherwise be thrown away.
“I knew a professional group would save vaccines and save lives.”
Groups like this one not only share links to available sites and vaccines, but tips and tricks as well: like what time the state releases appointments (three minutes every half hour) or which auto-refresher extension to install in your browser so you can does not have to break your thumb by pressing the same “update” button.
After I started making appointments for eligible Facebook friends – one with a heart problem, another survivor cancer, and hospitalized a parent with COVID – I realized I understood how to navigate the system and that I could do it for other eligible people as well. (My biggest coup among 30 strangers: getting an 85-year-old couple from The Bronx vaccinated.)
I am not a hero. I just want this pandemic to be over. And as a journalist / crusader who likes to fight the system and the institutions to improve them, I also take immense satisfaction in fighting for the little guy – and by ‘little guy’ I mean everyone in New York who is on hold for hours on end to be told there are no available appointments.
And I’m not alone.
“In the midst of a pandemic, when life is slow, it is incredibly gratifying to find something other than my daily life that is challenging and useful,” said Dana Siegal, a vaccine hunter who has helped dozens of people, including a few elderly people. women who cannot travel far.
“It’s the most I’ve spoken to strangers in a year … I wish I could find more people to help!”
This rush – receiving gratitude emails from strangers, seeing photos of vaccinated people, finally having a sense of purpose and urgency – is indeed satisfying … and mildly addictive.
Some ‘Vaccine Angels’ report that they dream of automatically renewing a website, others say they feel that every call that isn’t through a vaccine hotline is a waste of time, and a few admit that helping people is a competitive sport.
“Don’t you think you should stop now?” my husband said when he got home and our young daughter was eating in front of the TV … and I’m still talking to someone on the vaccine hotline.
“I’ll stop,” I promised my husband, as I continued to look for someone’s father, who lives on what we call “The Dreaded Long Island,” due to lack of availability.
“I have to try again.”
Amy Klein is a writer living in NYC. Follow her on Twitter @AmydKlein and on Instagram.