Earlier this week, and to my great surprise, I got a call from my editor, Linda Shapley, asking if I wanted to get vaccinated.

It’s a complicated question. On the surface, I wanted to get the COVID-19 vaccine as soon as I was eligible, under whichever phase I fit.

The offer was for the two dozen or so “front-line journalists” who cover the General Assembly. At first, I didn’t feel like I fit under that category: I spend most of my time working from an office in my basement, and go out to cover things only when necessary.

But it’s that latter part that made me think on this a bit longer.

Since the pandemic began last March, I’ve been tested five times for potential COVID-19 exposure, all tied to potential super-spreader events. That includes being around literally thousands of people who attended a concert/rodeo in Weld County with very few masks in sight; twice covering pro-Trump events, where masks are not required and even discouraged; and covering the early days of the Black Lives Matter protests in May and June.

I even had that conversation about why I didn’t think of myself as a front-line journalist with several media friends on Jan. 6, as we were covering a pro-Trump rally at the state Capitol with a couple hundred unmasked individuals. Yes, I can be a little dense at times.

On top of that, I’m married to a healthcare employee whose facility has, since July, been a way station for those recovering from COVID-19: too sick to go home but not sick enough to stay in the hospital. That’s been, at any given time, about 50 patients. He’s had good access to PPE and tested several times a week, but we feel like we’ve been living on borrowed time most of the year.

He got vaccinated on Jan. 8.

I got vaccinated at UC Health/Anschutz on Jan. 15. It was as easy as could be. It’s a quick shot, you sit for 15 minutes just for the heck of it, and then it was back to work.

But I heard and saw something in the room where a few dozen sat, waiting for that 15 minutes to be up, that I haven’t heard in a while: the sounds of laughter and what sounded like hope. Most of those in the room were likely the 70-years-and-up crowd; a few healthcare workers in scrubs, and me. 

When was the last time you felt hope? That this thing was finally going to go away? Jan. 15 was the first time I felt it in a long time. I walked out of the vaccine clinic with a big smile on my face, the same smile I saw on many faces that day. 

The first smile of hope I saw was from Rep. Edie Hooton, D-Boulder, who was coming out of the clinic just as I was going in. It couldn’t have been easier, she said. 

In talking to some of my colleagues in the media, some have said they don’t want to get vaccinated until their loved ones have theirs first. That was a consideration for me, too. Was I taking a vaccine that could go to someone who’s older? A healthcare worker? A friend?

In the end, however, I am a front-line journalist and, like many, I take risks in engaging with the public. I’m writing this from the state Capitol on the last day of the three-day session before lawmakers recess until mid-February, and where some don’t wear masks as a political statement.

There’s already been a half-dozen lawmakers and staff that we know of who’ve had COVID-19, and a few haven’t been exactly careful about protecting others. 

I’m looking forward to the day when I don’t have to wear a mask and a face shield anymore. I’m looking forward to the day when the bowl of masks near the garage door can go into storage.

I’m looking forward to getting some of my life back: my favorite yoga studio, which has been closed since April; as has my gym, where I had just gotten into a good routine with a trainer when the pandemic hit.

I’m looking forward to the day when I can be without fear every time I walk past someone who isn’t wearing a mask and not have to ask myself if that person is an asymptomatic spreader, especially when I’m at the Capitol, a place I have loved working for more than two decades.

I’m looking forward to getting back to hanging out with some of the coolest people I know: my colleagues at Colorado Politics.

And I’m looking forward to getting rid of the COVID-19. Not the virus. The 19 pounds I’ve gained since the pandemic began!