This is the third part of "Isolated Together". It picks up about three months after the end of part 2. Hank and Shannon bought a house together and got engaged at Disney World during COVID. If you haven't read the earlier parts, I suggest you go read them first.
I hope you and your families are safe and healthy.
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26 January 2021
you need to come to the hospital right now
Shannon looked at his phone quizzically.
is something wrong?
no. i can get you a covid vaccine but you need to be here asap
His workday ended over an hour ago. He was about to start making dinner.
It took him a little longer than twenty minutes to get to the hospital downtown, even though he was speeding in his hot hatch. Hank was waiting for him when he walked into the office at the anesthesia group.
"This way," she led him back through the maze of corridors into the main hospital building.
One of the conference rooms was set up as a vaccine distribution center. Since getting their allotments of the COVID vaccine, the hospitals were inoculating their personnel and high-risk patients.
They stopped at one of the registration tables. Shannon showed his ID and gave the nurse his information.
"I'm not cutting to the head of the line, am I?" he asked as Hank rushed him through. "I'm on the list out at the VA when they get to my age group."
"You are cutting in line . . . sort of," she made a face. "But it's okay."
"How is it okay?" he frowned.
"You know I got my first dose two weeks ago, along with the doctors, nurses and staff here." Hank sat him down at one of the stations next to an LPN. "Each vial of the Moderna vaccine has about fifteen doses in it. The way this is stored, once the vial is opened, it can't be resealed and the vaccine can't be frozen again after it's thawed. We had about four hundred people scheduled for the clinic today, and thirty-one of them canceled or no-showed. All of the doses we had set aside for them have already been drawn. If we don't put them in someone's arm, they get thrown away, and the director of the Immunology Department said to start calling anyone who could get here before we closed to come get vaccinated."
A man who looked to be just a little older than Hank came over. "Hi, I'm Andy White, a PA for Immunology. Do you have any questions about the Moderna vaccine?"
"I don't think so," Shannon said. "Are you sure I'm not taking this away from someone who needs it more?"
"No, you're not," the other man replied from behind his mask and face shield. "Our job is to get the vaccines administered to as many people as possible. If you weren't here, we'd have to dispose of this dose and that's the worst possible alternative. This vaccine is shown to be safe and effective in lowering the chances that you contract COVID-19, and if you do get COVID, you are much less likely to have a serious case or be hospitalized. Your arm may be a little sore, and you may run a fever for a day or so."
"Okay," Shannon relented.
"If you have any questions, just ask," Andy said and walked on to the next person in the line.
"Are you ready?" the LPN asked. She verified his name and birthdate. With a quick pinprick, it was over in a matter of seconds. She wrote out the relevant information on a card and handed it to him. "You need to go to the chairs down at the end of the room and wait fifteen minutes. If you don't have an allergic reaction by then, you're free to go. Your second dose will be four weeks from today."
"Do I need to make an appointment?" he asked.
"Nope," she smiled from behind her mask and faceshield. "Just show up with your vaccination ard and we’ll get you taken care of."
Hank walked with him.
"You didn't want to stick me?" Shannon asked playfully.
"That's not how it works," she winked and leaned in. "You poke me, not the other way around. But I think I might need one of your 'special' injections when I get home after work tonight."
He sat down in a chair that was spaced out from the other people who just received their inoculation.
"I'll be home when we're done here," she gave his hand a squeeze. In public, neither was willing to drop their masks, even for a quick kiss.
i love you
he texted as she walked away, his eyes never leaving her swaying hips.
love u more
she replied.
****************
"Did you say your mom got her vaccine last week?"
Shannon nodded. "Her first dose, yes. She's due to be 'fully vaccinated' by the middle of March."
"Daddy got into a priority group because of his heart and because he's a cancer survivor, and Mom got hers with him," Hank sat at the kitchen counter and was marking days off a calendar. "I want to invite them down to see us for Easter. We've been at this COVID thing for over a year now. I don't think I can handle another holiday over Zoom. Do you think your mom will come?"
"If it's just you and me and your folks, yes," he replied. "Mom has only let a few people into her bubble, but once more folks get vaccinated, she may go out more. I think she only buys stuff with delivery or curbside pickup. It wouldn't surprise me if she leaves the house just once a month . . . if that often."
"With all of the idiots out there who still refuse to wear masks properly, I don't blame her," Hank shrugged.
"I know we haven't talked much about a wedding . . ." her voice trailed off.
"What do you have in mind?" he asked. "Do you want a small, simple wedding, or do you want a production?"
"I'm not sure, but I was thinking about finding some small venue and just inviting a few people."
"We could do that, or I'm fine with going down to the Justice of the Peace," Shannon said. "I've done this once already, so whatever you want to do, just let me know."
"I wasn't one of those girls who always had a dream wedding, but I'd like more than just going to the courthouse," Hank confessed sheepishly.
"Don't be embarrassed," he smiled. "You just can't have a ton of bridesmaids; I don't have that many friends . . . and most of my co-workers think I'm an ass."
They giggled over their Saturday morning coffee. Now that they were both on basically the same schedule, they blossomed as a couple.
"I do want to talk to you about a couple of other things," he said after they moved to the living room. "About us . . . before we get married."
"What do you mean?" Hank's brow creased almost imperceptibly.
"Well . . . even though we've been together for basically a year and we've talked about some of this before . . . I think we need to discuss things like kids, pets, money, vacations . . . all that stuff people usually don't mention until they're together for five years and then they realised they fucked up."
"Is that what happened with your first wife?" Hank asked softly.
Shannon looked away for a moment. "Ultimately, yes. And I don't want that to happen with us. I love you, Hank, but that's only going to get us so far. Our views on politics and religion are similar, and none of our living habits are show-stoppers . . . but we need to talk about the rest of it. Not today, but before we get really serious about the wedding."
"I think so, too," Hank agreed. "Let's start with money: I think we should put together a joint checking account . . ."
****************
Shannon burrowed under the covers. In the span of an hour, he had gone from running a fever to deathly chills.
In another two hours, he would be shedding the blankets and burning up again.
Hank ran her hand through his hair, comfortingly scratching his scalp, just as he liked.
Four weeks to the day after getting his first Moderna shot, he got the second. After virtually no reaction from the first inoculation other than a sore arm, the second one hit him like a ton of bricks. Hank went through pretty much the same thing, so he knew what to expect.
