Season’s Greetings to all people of goodwill

Season’s Greetings to All!

I’d like to offer a Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating today, but also Warm Winter Wishes to the rest.Mom's idea of a restrained Xmas with dozens of gifts piled high under tall tree

I believe we all win when we give others the benefit of the doubt: if I tell you Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas, I don’t intend to denigrate your savior. Instead, I hope you recognize that my own beliefs differ, but you have my respect for your Joyeux Noël.

My favorite Christmas lyric is “peace to men of goodwill!” May this message find every reader safe, secure, feeling cozy and full of joy.

A December 23rd article in the New York Times informed me that for many—especially women, people aged 18-44, and independents or Republican voters with modest incomes—2021 might be the source of even more stress over the holidays than 2020.

So many are exhausted and demoralized.

I immediately sent a text to my sister-in-law upon reading that story. I thanked her for all that she does, especially when I’m on the other side of the country, and told her how grateful I am that she married into our family. What a delight to enjoy—and like!—one’s relatives.

It’s easy to overlook kindness when life feels hectic. Extending a hand to someone else is a surprisingly effective way to find one’s own balance.

Let someone know they are appreciated today, and perhaps you can ease some of that holiday stress afflicting a loved one or yourself. If your home is beautifully decorated or you’re dining in relative splendor, make sure whoever provided such bounty to you knows it matters.

And offer to do the tidying up if someone else arranges most of your holiday cheer! A shout out to my kids who washed all the dishes after our festive dinner last night.

For all that I am firmly aware of the rising caseload of the Omicrom variant, and the lingering specter of inflation punishing our pocketbooks, December of 2021 offers good news that I feel compelled to acknowledge. Let’s look at those sunny spots on the horizon.

Without being totally divorced from reality, it is definitive that we are seeing some of the highest daily COVID-19 case rates of the entire pandemic. I agree that this sucks! Omicrom is a rip-roarin’ beast of infection; it’s many times more infectious than Delta, which superseded those original strains of SARS-CoV-2 from early 2020.

In spite of that ugly, hospital-cramming fact, the amazing step forward of mRNA vaccinations means that the novel coronavirus is now, finally, actually only approaching the flu in terms of order of magnitude of lethality.

According to David Leonhardt’s Dec. 23rd article in the New York Times, here’s some hard data on the current degree of risk from COVID-19:

The risks here for older people are frightening: A rate of 0.45 percent, for instance, translates into roughly a 1 in 220 chance of death for a vaccinated 75-year-old woman who contracts Covid.

You’ll want to view the article to see its excellent graphs to get the fullest picture.
That is frightening, but what about when we consider other common ailments? From the same article:

One reassuring comparison is to a normal seasonal flu. The average death rate among Americans over age 65 who contract the flu has ranged between 1 in 75 and 1 in 160 in recent years, according to the C.D.C.

Until I read this story, I wasn’t aware that COVID-19 has become, for a vaccinated senior citizen, less deadly than an average flu. What a powerfully reassuring data point! I find this a reason for great hope.

bandage on upper arm

Before I go on, allow me to make obvious this other point: the unvaccinated are not nearly so safe. COVID-19 is much deadlier for the unvaccinated than flu is.

The last flu outbreak to kill millions, plural, was the “Asian flu” of the mid-1950’s, with a total death count estimated around 2 million souls worldwide.

An otherwise similar unvaccinated elderly woman is 13 times more likely to die of COVID than the vaccinated hypothetical person above. There remains a much, much higher probability of death for that unvaccinated 75 year old woman than she would face in a typical flu season.

COVID-19 leaped onto the charts as the third leading cause of death for Americans in 2020, and the elderly bear the brunt of this burden. We lost 1.8 years of life expectancy last year; that’s the worst decline in over 70 years, since WWII saw so many killed between 1942-43.

It is wonderful that we’re moving toward taming the novel coronavirus from killer of millions to “only” fatal to hundreds of thousands. While not enough, that is good, and it should be appreciated…when it actually happens.

As of November 22, we’d lost more Americans in 2021 than we did in 2020. No one should ever forget that.

Yet savor the positive news as much as you dwell on the negative and your life will be better. If you are fortunate enough to have been vaccinated, your personal risk now pales compared to those who’ve mostly been tricked out of taking a life-saving inoculation

happy face smile
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In addition to the lifesaving wonder of vaccines that measurably reduce deaths amongst our most vulnerable population, we’ve also seen two new drugs approved as treatment options for COVID-19 in the USA this week. Where the latest variant has rendered ineffective some of our most effective earlier therapies, these new treatments arrive just in time.

They could also save us a lot of money.

To have new treatments people can self-administer at home—thus sparing exhausted, overburdened hospital staff while our total case numbers reach record heights—is another blessing. It’s hard for me to quantify how much I would prefer to pick up a prescription from my local pharmacy for a few days’ worth of pills if I had COVID over making repeated visits to a hospital or clinic.

The antiviral COVID pills from Pfizer and Merck will initially cost the federal government around $700 per dose. This represents an enormous savings spread over millions of doses vs. pricier monoclonal antibody treatments all of which cost $1200 or more at the heavily discounted government bulk purchase rate.Pile of money
Patients will also be spared unpredictable fees for visiting those staffed locations necessary to administer IV therapies. In an era of high inflation—and personally facing a mandatory switch to a new health insurance plan from a different provider starting January 1st—I find this a great relief.

I’ve never had a confusing or even shocking bill after visiting a pharmacy, unlike every time I’ve been a patient at a hospital. Reflecting on the fact that I’m so incredibly privileged that I’ve never had a gap* in my insurance coverage, it seems likely that others fear surprise bills far more than I do.

The pandemic isn’t over. Thoughtful individuals should still be wearing masks and making efforts to improve ventilation while meeting with those outside their households. That said, we understand more than ever about how COVID-19 spreads. Many of us are vaccinated, thus protected against the worst outcomes of the disease. Available treatments have expanded from desperate guesses to multiple effective therapeutics.

This ugly, lonely, uncomfortable period in history will end, though those of us who’ve lived through it may well spend the rest of our lives processing the experience. For example, many of us grew up with grandparents whose behavior was permanently affected by surviving the Great Depression.

Right now, on Christmas Day, 2021, I encourage you to look for the positive anywhere you can. Experiencing terrible events isn’t the only predictor of future suffering; so is how one responds to those challenges, and what one makes with the memories.

Things could be better, but, of course, they could also be worse. Having made it to my father’s house and remained in good health in spite of the journey, I find so much to celebrate this year.

May all these little celebrations be less fraught in 2022.

Wishing every reader good health, good cheer, and a large measure of optimism for the year ahead!

It was a painfully frustrating message replete with disinformation from an old friend the other day that prompted me to research and think about these comparisons. For the vaccinated, COVID may now be similar to a “mere” flu; for the unvaccinated elderly, endemic COVID-19 is still a virulent threat to be taken seriously.

Publicly available data makes all of this very clear. In 2020, 3 million people died from COVID-19. In a usual year, flu kills between 290,000 and 650,000 around the world. No math degree is required to calculate that somewhere in the ballpark of four to 10 times as many deaths occurred in 2020 than we would have expected from “mere” influenza.

The two most commonly prescribed antibody treatments, those made by Eli Lilly and Regeneron, don’t work against the Omicrom variant. Only GlaxoSmithKline’s sotrovimab—the most recently approved monoclonal antibody therapy—offers protection from Omicrom. These therapies cost thousands of dollars per dose (retail of ~$3000-5000 according to this news story, though other sources state that the federal government bought in bulk for $2100 per Regeneron dose and $1250 each for Eli Lily’s) and are administered intravenously, requiring a trained health care professional’s presence for every dose.

*Though the Affordable Care Act has led to a major increase in how many Americans have health insurance at any given time, in 2020, 9.5% had some coverage but also experienced a “gap” in continuous care, whereas another 12.5% remained completely uninsured.

Satisfaction derived from one (novel) work in progress

Five weeks in, I’ve written 39,645 words. I’m working on a novel.

If I ever finish it, and then publish it, you should definitely read it.

39,645 ÷ 5 = 7929 words per week

7929 ÷ 7 ≅ 1133 words per day

Truthfully, I don’t know whether to crow about this rate of progress, or if I should be mildly—or wildly—embarrassed by my sloth. Remember, I’m a dilettante who hasn’t published much more than a blog.

Then again, the world can—and will—think what it wants. In the meantime, I shall carry on developing the imaginary universe I can’t help myself from inhabiting, trying to do justice to a scientific concept that my celebrated husband offered as a plot device.

I think it is working. The fact is ridiculously exciting.

On the evening of day 35, around page 170, I got to the good part. You know, that moment where a handful of threads are woven together, and one suddenly understands why we heard about this, then that, then the other thing… ?

Truthfully, I didn’t, myself, see all of it coming. My takeaway: writing fiction can be weird.

If I were a different kind of creature, perhaps I could keep up with regular installments for a diverting blog while crafting a novel clever people would feel compelled to read. My reality defies this notion. The same pool of energy feeds both projects.

Alas, poor readers! The novel wins.

Lately, the novel also encourages me to imbibe a glass of wine alongside the lighting of a five-armed, silver-plated candelabra from my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary, so it’s kind of a strange beast. Either that, or I am the odd one, but don’t you like knowing you are reading a work composed on a laptop by candlelight? That’s not just me, is it?

I’d love to share the recent story of “My First Flight in the Era of the Novel Coronavirus” (hint: uneventful) or “Flying vs. Amtrak Reality for Those Who Take Delta Variant Seriously” (hint: airlines impose mask regulations more seriously than train conductors), but I am forced to choose.

Happily, the kids and I have made it across the USA and back into the physical presence of my father. He needs an elective-yet-function-improving surgery, he was waiting to have family around to get the thing done, and it’s a Really Wonderful Thing that we are here to support him through the process.

Today we had to change the bed sheets prior to surgery and he started bathing with the special, sticky, infection-defying soap. Now, how do we keep the dog off his bed until the incisions heal?

It’s also downright bizarre to be anywhere other than where we’ve been for the past 17 months or so. How often are the rest of you realizing how definitely we are living through Interesting Times? How often do you give thanks for the fact that you’re still around to notice said fact?

My personal answer to that last one: at least once daily.

It’s almost definitely good for my family to have its paradigm shifted at this point. I know that I have become a creature who might just as well never leave the house at all, if left to my own devices. That could likely earn me some kind of diagnosis from the DSM if I were inclined to seek professional opinions on the subject.

I’m not.

Lacking that kind of openness to criticism, I still know I benefit from noticing what’s different here (time zone, state, county, population density) vs. what’s the same. The part where the kids and I are living with Dad’s pandemic puppy is a learning experience.

While I grew up with pets, the last time I lived full time with any was a pair of cats in the 1990’s.

I was really worried that Dad wasn’t training his dog, but the pup is much better behaved than Dad’s most comedic text messages suggested. Phew!

Fear not, blog-reading friends. I am alive, healthy, and grateful for both of these things to be true. Here’s hoping that soon I’ll be begging you, my favorite audience, for beta readers for a dys-/utopian novel. Is anyone game?

May you all remain healthier than the arborvitae my dad put in his yard right before temps topped 116º F here. He’ll be lucky if 2/5 survive the summer, I’d guess. God willing, the delta variant will remain less deadly than that ratio.

Goal check: Now’s the time to reflect on New Year’s resolutions

I wrote in January about one process I use to setand follow through withpersonal goals. I didn’t call them New Year’s Resolutions, so perhaps that’s why I haven’t given them up yet.

The internet says 80% of people drop New Year’s resolutions by February, and a 1988 article in the Journal of Substance Abuse showed 77% of resolution makers stuck it out for all of one full week while only 19% remained committed to their goals two years later.

2021 is approaching its halfway point as I write this. My not-too-ambitious printed list of goals for the year still hangs behind my computer screen. It’s been lightly annotated as I’ve gone along. I look at it—reminded of what I promised myself and why—every day.

So here’s an update on how well I’ve done at putting my energy into actions that affirm my values. I’ve printed out a clean new copy to hang for the second half of the year.2021 goals in a table, listing intellectual, financial, physical, relationship, and career objectives

Green lines blur personal financial goals; the pink line relates to a personal relationship goal.

Here’s a refresher of the New Year’s list for those who didn’t read the first post:

2021 goals in a table, listing intellectual, financial, physical, relationship, and career objectivesYou’ll notice that my list has grown since I penned it in January. This is intentional. I take care to craft a set of goals that serve my long-term interests without undermining my short-term sense of accomplishment.

I know myself! I can be overwhelmed by a large task that presents as monolithic.

On the other hand, almost every job can be dismantled into manageable component parts. I’m pretty good at methodically working my way through a list of concrete action items.

Can I regain all the strength I enjoyed due to regular vigorous exercise before I developed an autoimmune condition? The idea of trying makes me want to crawl back into bed. Maybe forever!

Moving every day in an intentional way, however? For just a few minutes? Yes, I can definitely do that. And, usually, I do, because the gentle suggestion on my list doesn’t feel like something that will decimate my limited stores of energy.

I’m sure I’m not the first person to emphasize that it isn’t so much the details of your personal goals that matter, but the fact that you assess them—then actively work toward what you want—that produces the efficacy of this technique.

My humble ambitions might easily be mocked by a high powered striver. That’s okay. I live comfortably with my choices because they are based upon my core values. The list I’ve shared helps me to recognize my own accomplishments for precisely that reason.

There aren’t many awards ceremonies—or any merit-based pay raises—for stay-at-home parents. One hears more often about Mommy Wars than Mommy Awards. But just because a parent opts to take on child-rearing as a full time role doesn’t mean personal growth and self-validation should be abandoned.

Self-improvement and self-care aren’t mutually exclusive. I see investing in myself, if only with time set aside for making and keeping short- to long-term goals—including those unrelated to my offspring!—as a vital part of staying sane and being prepared for the day when the last fledgling leaves the nest.

If you didn’t make New Year’s Resolutions, perhaps Mid-Year Resolutions will suit you better? There’s no better time to commit yourself to goals you care about than right now.

Why, yes, I did work in Quality Assurance. How did you guess?

Celebrating full vaccination against SARS-CoV-2… with a mask on

Today, I celebrate the fact that I’m officially fully vaccinated against the novel coronavirus responsible for the pandemic and all of its miserable restrictions. It’s been 14 days since my second Moderna jab.

I encourage everyone eligible and not medically contraindicated to pursue the same happy state.Person celebrating by blowing into unfurling pink butterfly party toy

The uncomfortable side effects weren’t the greatest thing ever, but they are long gone. My confidence, on the other hand, only grows stronger that I won’t catch or spread COVID-19 to those I love or innocent strangers.

My commitment to protecting others is a product of both my patriotismand my Jewish faith’s teachings on the inherent dignity and value of human life.

My behavior won’t change too much, however, given that I’m only the second person in our household of six people to achieve this milestone. My father-in-law, at a venerable age ≥75, was part of our state’s Phase II, given access to scarce vaccine appointments back in February.Patients during mandatory observation for side effects after coronavirus vaccination jab

Two thirds of us* have had second shots, and my youngest got his first jab within days of his cohort becoming eligible. The others in our household will reach full immunity over the course of the next four and a half weeks.

Knowing that even just the first dose of Pfizer vaccine reduces my youngest’s odds of symptomatic coronavirus infection by more than half, he will be able to rejoin his class for in person learning for at least the final couple of weeks of the school year.

What a blessing!School tents for COVID-19 - 1

It is especially poignant given my son’s love for this special school, which has been his academic home for more than half of his life, added to the fact that he’s moving on to his next level of education at a different institution in the fall.

Schools here rightly are still required by law to enforce masks for pupils indoors; my child will continue to wear a face covering at all times on campus, exceeding state regulations. He will continue to take care to keep social distance inside as well.

Because a frail, ill, elderly member of our family—and household—has a history of severe anaphylaxis triggered by medications and vaccine components, protecting ourselves from suffering severe COVID-19 is great, but not sufficient. She remains at elevated personal risk if she catches the coronavirus, yet unprotected by anything except her family’s caution.Safety goggles, cloth face mask, and disposable gloves

We will continue to guard against even mild infection, practicing indoor masking and social distancing in all public places, because no one knows yet exactly how contagious a vaccinated, asymptomatic or mildly symptomatic carrier really is.

Breakthrough infections after vaccination are rare and not usually severe, but they definitively exist and have caused some to suffer for prolonged periods of time.

I’m thrilled and grateful to live in a wealthy, powerful nation wherein my family enjoys the fruits of stupendous work on the part of scientists and clinicians fighting a novel disease. I understand and agree with the conclusion that a majority of fully vaccinated people can safely modify some behaviors at this point in the pandemic.

I also offer our situation as a cautionary tale to all those mocking and minimizing maintained vigilance even as rates of infection, hospitalization, and death improve. We aren’t just paranoid hypocrites who doubt or misunderstand science.

We are multi-generational households. We are people with allergies and other uncommon health conditions causing variable responses to vaccines. We are concerned parents, children, and grandchildren. We are traumatized family members of victims who lost lives to the pandemic.Woman hugs child

By most measures, COVID-19 is retreating. I celebrate that fact, too! My gaiety is merely tempered by the facts of my personal situation.

People of goodwill must continue to support each other—and everyone else in our communities—as each family negotiates the tail end of their own version of the pandemic. That’s how we recover, as a society.

I know of no greater way to honor those who’ve suffered, and those we’ve lost, than to carry on leading a joyful life including generous quantities of service and gratitude.

That process will look different from house to house, and community to community.

That’s not just okay, it’s a magnificent reflection of the vibrant diversity of modern America. Getting back to normal isn’t the best we can do; let’s move forward together to an even better future.

Respecting that others may do so differently from you is a powerful step in that direction.

Functional democracy—or effective government in a democratic republic such as the United States of America—depends upon civic virtue. Failing to protect others within my community would undermine everything I believe to be right, just, and good.

* i.e., us = my household

Teenagers such as my kids already have lower rates of severe or even symptomatic infection with this virus. In a population aged 65+, the first dose of either mRNA vaccine was protective against COVID-19 serious enough to require hospitalization at a rate of 64%. Subsequent studies show 12-15 year old adolescents mounting greater antibody responses to these vaccines than even young adults 16-25—who responded more vigorously than elders—likely due to the more robust immune system of youth.

Honestly admit vaccine side effect costs & better support the “hesitant” to increase compliance

When you get your COVID-19 vaccination—and I’d argue that approximately 99% of those reading this post have a moral imperative to do so—a realistic assessment of the facts suggests that you are likely* experience some uncomfortable side effects though they may be very mild.

News coverage, even in sources specifically geared toward those of us living with chronic conditions, heavily emphasizes the societal good which vaccination will bring—which is real enough—but most writers lean too heavily toward cheerleading at the expense of offering valuable information people need to cope with the particular pressures of their own individual lives.

I would like to stress that those of us more vulnerable than average to infirmity should plan for several days of being less effective in our work and daily lives after vaccination. It’s better to be prepared than to be caught flat-footed after the fact.

Politicians and business leaders who want the economy to boom should be offering solutions to make such preparations possible for the millions of Americans living in and at the edge of poverty who can’t afford to construct such safeguards for themselves.

Roughly 30 million American adults want to take the COVID-19 vaccine but haven’t yet managed to actually get the shot(s). Closer to 28 million are instead “vaccine hesitant,” stating they would probably or definitely not get vaccinated.Redacted official CDC COVID-19 Vaccination Record Card

Sufferers of autoimmune disease, getting your jab may well bring on a flare. That was my experience after my first dose, and I’m glad I dug down far enough through coy, dissembling news coverage and popular health reporting to be forewarned about the risk.

Here’s one published case study in The Lancet regarding the health of one gentleman with rheumatoid arthritis after getting the BioNTech-Pfizer vaccine. This article on Creaky Joints is the most honest that I read, speaking directly to specific reactions people with autoimmune conditions might expect.

I would take that first dose again, however, and I did return for my second shot of the Moderna vaccine.

I began composing this post whilst “enjoying” the resultant joint pains, exhaustion, and headache that came with full vaccination. Dose two also induced half a day of resounding nausea that could have been an exaggerated version of the queasiness I routinely get when very tired.

Side effects from the second shot prevented me from my normal activities—already constrained by my autoimmune disease diagnosis—for about two and a half days.

I.e., I would not have felt safe driving for at least two days after my second shot, nor would I have been healthy enough to go to work.

By comparison, after my first jab, I experienced sudden onset of extreme fatigue, headache, and an odd sensation I only associate with coming down with a virus that I can best describe as “the spaces in my joints feeling stretched out and wobbly.”Analog wall clock showing 12:06

Those shot #1 symptoms popped up about six hours after I received it mid-morning. I went to bed early, and the next day, all the viral infection type side effects were far less troublesome. I felt less than 100% the day after, but able to partake in most normal activities.

I.e., I could have worked through the side effects triggered by my first dose.

My arm ached significantly for a total of five or six days, however, and I developed an uncomfortable swollen feeling in my armpit several days later that was probably my lymph nodes reacting.

On the other hand, in the four weeks after my first dose of Moderna’s vaccine, I experienced the most significant stiffness, joint pain, swelling, and fatigue that I’d had since the pandemic began. Staying at home most of the time while society remained mostly shut down was generally very protective for me against my usual, recurrent autoimmune disease symptoms.

I used far less pain medication than usual between March of 2020 and April 2021. I went entire weeks without needing an NSAID anti-inflammatory or using prescription pain killers. Between my two doses of COVID-19 vaccine, I required at least one of those every day.

I.e., I would have struggled to meet the demands of a full time job plus family responsibilities on many of the days between my first and second vaccine injections.Prescription bottle of pain pills

It is worth noting that this potentially vaccine-provoked flare never reached peaks equivalent to the worst ones I had right after my diagnosis. Also, the flare absolutely could have been coincidental. But, again, it’s the only serious one I had through the entire pandemic right up until I got my first shot.

I’m not arguing against vaccination. I am suggesting some of us might need extra resources to meet our daily responsibilities when we elect vaccination, doing our part to protect the entire community. Stepping up comes with a cost.

I have a healthy, supportive spouse. My large family includes relatively helpful, fit teens able to pick up the slack with household chores. Family members have been able to stagger vaccine appointments so we never experienced side effects simultaneously. Our income is sufficient that purchasing takeout meals or prepared foods is not a burden. I am easily able to reach my regular doctor with any concerns because I’m well-served with health insurance and the means to pay for Direct Primary Care out of pocket—including an option to text message my GP directly for urgent issues outside business hours.

In short, I have the good fortune to control most aspects of my daily life, so I could plan around the reality of vaccine side effects. I had sufficient personal resources to fall back on to meet all of my post-vaccination needs. Far too many Americans are less fortunate, many in more than one of the areas I’ve mentioned.

Speaking specifically to the autoimmune-challenged community, I’ve been delighted to find that my second dose of the mRNA vaccine seems to have abruptly ended the prolonged flare I experienced in the four weeks between shots. After feeling much worse due to its side effects than I had in over a year, by the fourth day post-vaccination, I became more energetic—and had less joint pain and stiffness—than I could recall feeling in recent memory. bandage on upper arm

I.e., my RA flare ended abruptly along with my vaccine side effects from the second shot.

Given that vaccination clears lingering symptoms for as many as 41% of COVID long haulers, I was fascinated to observe what could be a related effect in myself after jab #2. Communicating this potential improvement in daily functioning to those who are vaccine hesitant while believing themselves to have had COVID—some of whom never got confirmation of a likely coronavirus infection due to the scarcity of tests early in the pandemic—seems like yet another missed opportunity in public health messaging.

Everyone who wants the economy to rebound fully should take all possible actions to enable workers, especially those at the margins of poverty with limited access to health care, to make, keep, and recover after appointments for inoculation. Full disclosure of the known risks and known benefits—but also realistic potential risks and probable benefits—could bring us closer to herd immunity and full fiscal and medical recovery.

COVID-19 still holds many mysteries for science to uncover. The need to offer accurate information as well as paid time off to over-burdened breadwinners and caregivers so that they can confidently book vaccinations—without risking their livelihood!—isn’t one of them.

America’s front-line, essential workers have already borne more than their fair share of the fight against this pandemic. Today, those who employ these millions should step up with specific support to enable each one to get his or her shots.

* I say “likely” based upon the CDC website stating, for the Pfizer vaccine, “84.7% reported at least one local injection site reaction” and “77.4% reported at least one systemic reaction.” For the Moderna version, they state “[s]ystemic reactions were reported by the majority of vaccine recipients” with over 80% experiencing injection site reactions.