For every shot in every arm, there's someone— a mom, an uncle orgrandpa, a worried-sick adult child— with a story to tell.
They speak to thefrustrationof knowing there's a potentially life-saving vaccine out there that doesn't have theirname on it— at least not yet— even as deaths from COVID-19 top 470,000 in the United States. They recount thethis-close-to-boilinganger that comes from getting up at dawn to take a shot at getting a shot, only to have their hopes dashedagain and again and 10 more agains.
Some of the locals you'll meet here are still waiting for the first call for a first injection for themselves orloved ones. One has received a second dose. Others log hour after hour in front of a computer, trying to secure shots for those who can't do it themselves.
All of them have stories, powerful in their deceptive simplicity: I want to hug my family. Grab my passport and travel again. Go to church without fear.
I want this one shot, one step, toward whatever "normalcy" comes next.
Q&A:Latest info on sign-ups for county's COVID-19 vaccine program and more
Sue and Nick van Vonno
She'sfaced the death of adaughter from breast cancer and another of her five children, her 64-year-old daughter,has undergone a heart transplant.
She herself hasnon-Hodgkin's lymphoma, COPD and other circulatory issues. Her 77-year-old husband, Nick, a scientist and engineer who works part-time, has health issues, too.
Still, in the face of adversity, Suevan Vonno of Melbourne considers herself "a fairly easygoingand happy person."
Even as the pandemic forced life changes.Sue and Nick found a new Brevard park to visit almost every week. Had picnics. Were part of asocially distanced birthday party for two of their grandchildren, at one of those parks.
But after monthsof concern, and then weeks of trying to schedule vaccinations for herself and her husband with the help of her daughter and daughter-in-law, Suewas undeniably frustrated. Grouchy, even.
"As I write elderly in my titleline I suddenlyrealizethat I am just that. I am a fairly young almost-83-year-old. Active in several organizations and still a very active genealogist," she wrote to FLORIDA TODAY.
"Thelast few days I really felt that despiteall our efforts it was just not going to happen.I thought for sure I was going to have a meltdown."
So when that "it" happened the very next day, and she learned she and her husband could get vaccinated on Feb. 12, emotion spilled.
They'll have to drive about 200miles round-trip for the vaccinations at a Winn-Dixie in Orange City.
Suedoesn't care. They'll spend the night on the road if need be.
It's a relief that's hard to explain.
"I can't even tell you," Suesaid. "It'ssuch a burden off my mind ... just happiness. My daughter-in-law kept apologizing because it was so far away. I said, 'Don't worry, Sabrina. We'll make a day of it."
More:Brevard officials: Federal program at retail sites will help ease vaccine shortage
Betsey Crockett and her mom, Carolyn Crockett
2020 had started off miserably in the first place.
Betsey Crockett'sdad, Carl,died onJan. 24, that last Jan. 24 before a virus no one had heard of became all everyone talked about.
She'd take her mother, Carolyn, a retired English teacher, to church.
Then, the coronavirus hit.
Betsey's newly widowed mother"wants desperately to be able to go back to church; to be able to just wander over to a neighbor's, see her friends," Betseysaid.
"And she's justbeen housebound, and it's tragic. Onthe couch —that's pretty much where we had to keep her except for doctor's appointments."
It was brutal, she said, to watch her 84-year-old momwait for news of a vaccine.
But in early January, Betsey was among those who reached theBrevard Department of Health in Viera despite the rocky sign-up rollout, and secured a spot for her mom's first shot. And on Feb. 9, Carolyn got the second dose of the Moderna vaccine.
They stopped forPopeye's chicken afterward. Back home, hermother posed for a picture, her right shirt sleeve rolled up and in her hands, apackage of Lady Gaga "Chromatica" Oreos,neon pink and green cookies inspired by the singer's sixth studio album.
"My father's last words to me were, 'Take care of your mama,'" she said.
"So when I was able to get this appointment, it was like, 'Dad, I did it.'"
Marlys Breckle and Bill Klein
Marlys Breckle and Bill Klein have toured the world in their 24 years of marriage.
After almost a year of isolation, they just want to go to Orlando whenever the mood strikes. They're watching travel webinars offered by, among others, Viking Cruises: museums, cruises and more.
Bill, 79, is a retired nuclear engineering consultant. Marlys is 81 and a retired pharmacist.
And they're a textbook example of how dogged determination can pay off.
Nothing about the computerwas confusing as they got up in the dark to seek vaccination slots through Publix or vie for vaccineviathe Department of Health.
Finally, a couple of weeks ago, with four devices going at their Titusville home, they scored Publix appointments, albeit on different days.
"Once you can get one, it's pretty easy," Billsaid. "But it was frustrating because so much time was wasted at the beginning. There was no way to respond, to call up; no way to go on a computer and input anything."
Getting that much-coveted vaccine in their armmatters to this couple, who hopeto be together for years to come. As soon as word hit of the virus' deadly nature, they canceled cruises.Bill has lung problems, and they'resticklers for social distancing. They'd hoped to see their children for special occasions last year. They didn't.
"We said, 'We just won't travel,'" Billsaid. "We figure we'd rather be around together for a lot of years than go someplace now and die."
More:Lack of medicine, not distribution issues, undermines COVID-19 vaccination efforts
Rita Kovar
Vaccine-seeker Rita Kovar jumped online the opening weekend of Florida's newpre-registration site.
Two weeks later, she puts it bluntly: "What kind of a systemwould not allow three old people in the same family to register together?"
Ultimately, she managed via phone to secure appointments for herself (she's 79), her husband, who's 83, and her 74-year-old sister.
Or so she thought.
When the trioarrived in Viera, where she said they'd been told to come even though they had no confirmation email, theywere informedtheir names were not on the list.
Staff tried to help figure out the problem: what happened, why, and whether someone had made a mistake inputting her email address. A nurse told the trio thatothers— mostly couples who thought both had appointments when one did not — had been turned away too,
Ultimately, they went home without being vaccinated. They're still waiting to be called back.
"So what is the truth? Did they mess up my e-mail, or did someone make a mistake registering the three of us together?" Ritasaid.
"In the end, the helpline told us we would get a call when more appointments become available. I thought those of us 75 and above were considered most vulnerable.There must be a better way."
More:For those with developmental disabilities, there's no quick pass to a vaccine
The helpers: We sign people up
Nurse practitioner Elizabeth Logan knew there'd be countless peoplewho, for whatever reason, would havetrouble booking COVID vaccineappointments.
A Viera resident, shestarted posting her willingness to help others on social media. Others joined in.
The result: A tenacious team of five womenwho had, by Feb. 10, signed up around 200 people for vaccinationsin Seminoleand Volusia County, at Publix and as of this week, at the Palm Bay Winn-Dixie.
They share word of their mission on social media and word of mouth, with vaccine-seekers emailingtheir requests for aid at covidvax2020@gmail.com and receiving a form withthe info the team needs to get them signed up. Color-coded spreadsheets sharewho's registered andwho's willing to drive out of Brevard County to get a vaccination.Applicants are advised to consult with their doctor before securing appointments and also to sign up at myvaccine.fl.gov — the state's pre-registration site for vaccines through the Department of Health — and if they can travel outside the county, their chances may be greater for success, Logan said.
Brevard resident Patti Leathers got her shot thankstothe group, as did five of her friends.
"The power of the relief that we all got as a result of the work of these absolute angels can’t be described in mere words," Leatherssaid.
Logan keeps itpragmatic, rather than personal: "I believe in science, and whatever I can do to help, I will do it," she said. "If that means getting up at 6 or 6:30, so be it. I'm so driven to get as many people vaccinated as possible."
For every shot in the arm, there's a person with a story about enduring the pandemic, waiting for the return of somesemblance of normality, hoping this vaccination will usher thatin.
"One woman whose husband is dead had been shut up in her home since last March, getting groceries delivered," Logan said.
"For so many people, this is life-changing."
Contact Kennerly at 321-242-3692 or bkennerly@floridatoday.com. Twitter:@bybrittkennerlyFacebook: /bybrittkennerly.
