You raised your eyebrows in a mischievous expression. You started laughing before you could even get it all out.
You: “So these folks got you out here being the #COVIDVaccine cheerleader now, huh?”
You laughed again.
2/ Me: “That low key sounded like shade.”
You: *shaking head* “Nah doc. You know I got love for you.”
Me: “Mmm hmmm.”
We both forced out a chuckle. From our prior conversations, I knew you weren’t a fan of the vaccine and only got it because you had no choice.
*silence*
3/ Me: “So. . . You doing alright?”
You: “Yeah. My ear didn’t fall off and I’m not magnetic. So far so good.”
Me: *sigh*
That ask was general. I wasn’t in the mood to banter with you about all that you thought about the vaccines. Not right now.
Even me—“the cheerleader.”
4/ Plus you’d gotten vaccinated already. And I was tired.
Me: “Okay, fam. Good to see you.”
You: *ignoring that* “So what’s your take on your boy?”
Me: “Huh?”
You: “Your boooy. The General.”
Seriously?
Now I knew who you were talking about. But I was tired.
For real.
5/ I decided to stay vague.
Me: “It’s sad.”
You: “Yeah, especially since the brother got that magical vaccine.”
Magical vaccine.
The way you said that was laced with sarcasm. And, honestly, I was tired. Like, for real tired on this day.
Let me explain.
6/ I’d just gotten off of the phone with one of my son’s teachers. And the feedback wasn’t the kind that puts moms in the happiest places. So I was fretting. Fretting because, when it comes to my kids, I do that sometimes.
Yeah.
And so. I wasn’t in the mood for sarcasm.
Nope.
7/ Me: *shrug* “He was vaccinated. You’re right.”
There. I responded with out biting.
You: *chuckle* “So I guess it’s not so magical after all.”
My phone buzzed with a text and I saw my son’s name flash on the Home Screen. Two more notifications came right behind it.
Sigh.
8/ I looked up from my phone and back at you. My phone vibrated two more times and I put it in my pocket.
Just then you seemed to notice that I looked distracted,
You: “I’m sorry, doc. You okay?”
Me: *nodding* “Yeah. I’m good. Just tired today.”
*silence*
9/ I’d been seeing you around Grady for more than a decade. We were friendly. And I knew that you meant no harm. I felt a wave of shame wash over me as I saw your brow knit above your mask.
Me: “It’s cool.”
You: “Nah. My bad for that. I know you feel real strong about this.”
10/ I suddenly felt this intense urge to cry. Like, I could feel myself on the tippy-tip edge of full on weeping. I was too scared to even open my mouth because I was just that close.
I took a drag of air and waited a beat.
You: “Doc?”
11/ I finally spoke.
Me: “Did you know he was a granddad?”
You: “Who?”
Me: “General Powell. He was somebody’s granddad.”
Something about that seemed to scour away every trace of your condescension. I needed you to connect this to a real person.
Not just an idea.
12/ Me: “He had 3 kids. And 2 grandkids.”
Just then I wondered if a teacher ever had to call him about his kids. Or if, in the middle of him being a whole entire Black man 5 star General, he had to fret about what he was going to do or say as a parent between work stuff.
Hmm.
13/ You stayed silent. I was glad.
Me: “He made 84. You know? That’s what the Grady elders call the years you get after 3 score and ten years. They say you ‘make’ those years.”
You: *listening*
Me: “That granddad made 84! And he made history. And died of . . . COVID? COVID?”
14/ Me: “Listen. If you line up the last 100 people to die from COVID since January, 99 of them wasn’t vaccinated. And the one that WAS vaccinated was counting on the rest of us to protect them.”
My phone shook again. And you just stared at me. Not speaking.
Which was fine.
15/ Because I was tired.
Me: “Let me get going, fam.”
You: *pause* “I. . . .I hear what you saying. I mean, I wasn’t big on Colin Powell, but I hear you.”
Me: *shrug* “This has nothing to do with what either of us thought of him.”
My voice grew firm.
16/ Me: “He was somebody’s granddad, man. Somebody’s granddad.”
I emphasized it that second time. And you got the point.
We awkwardly said good bye and that was it.
Yup.
I fished my phone out of my pocket and saw the screen filled with texts from my son.
Sigh.
17/ So, before folks worry, things are fine and will be with my son. But I’m thinking about the power of family and all that COVID has done to interrupt every day moments .. . like fretting over a teenaged son who has 2 late assignments.
I now count it all joy.
18/ Yeah. Even the optimists get tired.
But.
84 year-old granddads deserve to be protected, man. And so does everyone else. Whether they’re famous or not.
Yup.
So if it means preventing an unnecessary death? Call me what you want.
We had just finished up at the #NoJudgmentZone table. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and began heading out.
"Ma'am. . .scuse me."
I turned in the direction of the voice. 2 young women stood side by side in the information line.
*details changed
2/ One was tall and slender with thick locs piled on top of her head. She wore a t-shirt with a faded screen of the words "Black Girl Magic" on the front. The other had on a sweatsuit and had a network of tiny braids that fell nearly to the small of her back.
Me: "Hey there."
3/ The taller one spoke first.
Locs: "We was looking at your hair. It's so pretty."
Sweats: "We saw you and said, 'Werk sis!'"
*laughter*
Me: "That's kind. Thanks!
Sweats: *looking close* "Is it a color process?"
Me: "A color process? Girl. Courtesy of mother nature."
You: "Y'all dead set on trying to get folks to take that devil shot, ain't you?" *shakes head*
Me: *shrug* "I'm pretty dead set on trying to stop this virus from killing and disabling folks. So if that means getting a shot, I guess so."
You snorted.
2/ Me: "How you doing today?"
You: "Say what now?"
Me: "I mean, seeing as you rolled up on me throwing shade I figured we could at least get cool first."
*laughter*
You: "I'm good. But I damn sure ain't taking that devil shot. You can bet on that."
Me: *listening*
3/ You: "And low key--I feel some type of way about siccing Black folks on other Black folks to get them to take that shit."
Me: *raising eyebrows* "Ouch."
You: "I'm for real. I feel like they got y'all hoodwinked and bamboozled, too."
1/ Today @EmoryMedicine dedicated the Leon L. Haley, Jr. Distinguished Professor and Chair for the Emory Executive Assoc. Dean of Grady Affairs.
What a powerful way to let the generations know of this great man and leader—and to remind those in the pipeline of their potential.
2/ Dr. @SherylHeron — his friend of over 25 years described him as a GIFT:
GIVING
INSIGHTFUL
FIERCE
TENACIOUS
No truer words have been spoken. I know it was hard for her to speak. She was brave and honored him in the most special way.
Here’s an excerpt.
3/ I can think of no better person to hold this inaugural Endowed Professorship than the tireless @GradyHealth champion @CarlosdelRio7. His work and dedication to Grady and the world have been extraordinary.
I think @lhaley3 would have been pleased with this.
I was sitting at the #NoJudgmentZone table and notice a Grady elder quickly moving toward me on a walker.
Her: "'Scuse me, baby. You know where this at?" *places paper onto desk*
I took the paper and scanned it. Someone jogged up beside her.
Niece: "Auntie!"
2/ The Grady elder swung her head in the direction of the woman. The woman was panting.
Niece: *shaking head* "Auntie! Why you bothering this lady? She ain't the information."
The Grady elder rolled back a few steps and craned her neck to look at the sign beside my table.
3/ She squinted her eyes at me.
Her: "Now what you say you doing here?"
Me: "Ma'am?"
Her: "I'm trying to figure out what you doing next to the information if you ain't the information."
*laughter*
Me: "It's okay. I'm answering questions about the #COVIDVaccine."
It a little bit sound like the Charlie Brown-cartoon-grown-up voice. All wobbled up and hard for somebody to understand. I keep looking at her and she looking at me. I'm smiling so she won't think I'm confused.
But I am.
*names and details changed
2/ Big, weird words for no reason keep throwing me off. She seem like she in a hurry, too. At some point, I just said bump it. I'll just see if that lady at the pharmacy can help me.
Keep smiling. Smiling while she looking over all my pill bottles.
3/ Her: "This one's renal protective. Plus there's the added benefit of ventricular remodeling with your heart failure."
Heart failure?
She set that bottle down after she said that part. And it felt like a door slamming on me. Right in my face.
1/ I recall walking into the hospital to round the day after 9/11. Though everything seemed normal, it was anything but.
I pulled down a chart box and attempted to look through a chart. Then I looked up and saw my colleague walking toward me.
The one from New York.
2/ She walked up and I just hugged her. Tight without speaking at first.
Her: “It is all like a bad dream.”
Me: “I know.”
*silence*
Me: “Um. . .”
Her: “I spoke to everyone. They are OK. We are fortunate. But I know people who are still waiting.
I nodded in quiet deference.
3/ Since we didn’t know what else to do, we hugged again. This time tighter and more knowing. The way you cling to someone at a good-bye or uncertain future.
When we pulled back, she was looking skyward and patting her eyes with the heels of her hands.