By Richard Rossner

March 31, 2021, my wife, Rahla, and I got jabbed. As the saying goes, “No good deed goes unpunished.” It took some doing to navigate the bureaucratic mess of the Los Angeles vaccine rollout, but we did it. We felt like we had crossed a critical finish line. We were alive. We could visit our son in person. And life in Los Angeles seemed to be reopening to its new normal.

I was particularly fortunate because, before the pandemic, I had been hired by a podcast company that Spotify bought. I was a Spotify employee, and when things got really scary in March of 2020, they suggested the narrators could work from home. They set us all up with mixing boards, microphones, and tech support. I know it’s no big deal to come “out of the closet” today, but I was thrilled to go into the closet.

My wife and I had received the J&J “one-and-done” vaccine. I remember one day she ran in to read a headline that said, “The J&J Vaccine is the Preferred Vaccine…”. I told her I had seen that headline, and she missed the last three words: “…For the Homeless.” One-And-Done was the best way to treat transients who couldn’t be counted on to show up for the second shot. And Los Angeles has plenty of tent cities downtown and in the San Fernando Valley, where we live.

But signs of normalcy began taking hold. Masks were coming down. Restaurants were opening up. People were getting together for safe-distanced dinners in homes.

In early July, my son mentioned that he was playing bass at a gig to help out a friend doing a hip-hop show at a club in Hollywood. I figured I had to go. It was my boy!

The gig was on July 26. I battled traffic (L.A. really was getting back to normal) and stalked the streets for half an hour before I found a parking spot. I walked down a side street off Hollywood Boulevard where the club was located. I had forgotten how much Hollywood had deteriorated through the decades. This wasn’t a glamorous street of dreams. It was more like the Bar Scene in the first Star Wars movie.

I arrived at the club entrance and was greeted by a perky young girl holding a clipboard. I told her my name, she stamped my wrist and told me to enjoy myself. I asked if masks were required. She said, “No. Whatever you want to do.” I didn’t want to wear a mask, because I feel ill after wearing it for a short time, and I didn’t want to pass out before my son got on stage.

She pointed to a long stairwell that led to the subterranean club. If this had been Hamburg in 1961, I would have sworn I was at The Cavern, and The Beatles were going to jump out on stage.

The club was hot, humid, filled with colorful lights, and lots of young people drinking and having a great time.

I chose a very secluded seat and was careful not to touch anything or anyone. A really cool Black guy complimented me on my fashionable red and black Soprano’s bowling shirt. For a 70-year-old guy, I was doing great!

The band played. The crowd loved them. I hugged my son. I congratulated the lead singer. I went home.

That was Tuesday night. Saturday morning, I couldn’t get out of bed. My head felt like it was in a vice. Everything in my body ached. Touching my skin was painful. I was feverish and had a horrible, painful dry cough. I lost my sense of taste, but I couldn’t eat anyway. My only exercise that day was rolling over in bed or going to the bathroom. And that became my life for the next 14 days.

I generously shared the virus with my wife. Two days later, she was in worse shape than I. And that was really scary. Neither one of us could help the other.

Our son (who didn’t get COVID) had groceries delivered. Our friends sent vegan meals from Veggie Grill…but we weren’t hungry.

The pain, boredom, and exhaustion of this virus seemed like they would never end.

It’s been four weeks, and we’re finally up and around - but we are still suffering from the cough and the most debilitating exhaustion we’ve ever felt. It suddenly overcomes us without warning. Just when I start feeling like myself, I think I can run an errand…like going to Trader Joe's to pick up a loaf of bread. By the time I get home I’m wiped out and have to lie down for two or three hours.

My wife has a good day, then two bad days. Not knowing if, how, or when this thing will end is depressing.

I had one strange symptom I didn’t expect. Hiccups. Non-stop. For ten days. And I had three podcasts to narrate.

I give myself props for figuring out how to time phrases between my hics. I’m sure the file I sent to the editors was like a Ming vase that had fallen off a high shelf. The editing team had to put Humpty Podcast back together into something recognizable.

I did keep my sense of humor. I don’t usually write riddles, but this one came to me:

How do you lose those COVID 10 pounds you gained during lockdown?

Get COVID.

The vaccine supposedly helped me avoid a hospital stay and death. And I’m grateful, but something seems off. See for yourself in these before and after pictures. They make the case for how debilitating this virus is.

I’m laughing about the photos, but my friends aren’t. They’re concerned. And we all should be concerned. COVID is no joke. It’s an extremely slow recovery, and I still have to track my energy very closely.

All I wanted to do was see my son play a gig. “No good deed…” But you’ll see from the lead photo that I’m looking a little better now.

Richard Rossner is a narrator of the Spotify Original from Parcast podcasts DICTATORS and UNEXPLAINED MYSTERIES. He is also a writer who recently co-authored the contemporary murder mystery, DISHONOR THY FATHER (www.DishonorThyFather.us), which explores a possible “honor killing,” in Los Angeles. He also partners with his wife in their company, The Power of Play (www.ThePowerOfPlay.com), where they teach grownups to play with a purpose in order to laugh more, play hard and die less!