I got the COVID booster shot at my pharmacy last week. Business was good. I was originally told that I could just get one on a “walk up” basis. When I acted on that advice I was told that this instruction was, basically, “inoperative” to use the immortal phrase of Ron Ziegler Jr. I viewed the fact that the pharmacy had underestimated the demand for the product to be a good sign that folks were taking this seriously. At least in my part of town. For all I know, syringes are gathering dust in pharmacies across Saline County.
As I sat outside the shot room, a lady and a little kid, 7 or so, dressed in her school uniform, checked in at the cash register. I was called in by Phil, the pharmacist who would be puncturing me that day. He was wearing gloves and a plastic visor which I thought to be a bit much. But it doesn’t hurt to be too careful I suppose. Especially when you are administering assembly line inoculations.
It was pretty uneventful. Especially for a medical procedure that a third of the country thinks represents an unwarranted intrusion on its personal liberty. He asked me if I had experienced any side effects from my last dose. I told him that I had experienced chills and fatigue. But nothing major. He allowed as how I would probably experience more of the same. As that was not a problem for me, he proceeded to fire away. Afterwards he handed me a sheet with a bunch of legalese on it and told me he needed me to wait outside for @ 30 minutes. I guess this was to make sure that I did not produce a magnetic field or something. Or one of the other rumored side effects of the vaccine.
When I returned to my seat, I happened upon one highly agitated little girl.
“I don’t want the shot, Mommy. It’ll hurt. Pleeeeeeeze Mommy!”
The mom in turn had her lips to the kid’s ear murmuring stuff at her in a futile attempt to calm her down. Of course, the mere plaintive sobs turned into screams of sheer terror when Phil, clad in white and wearing that stupid shield, opened the door to call them in.
“Nooooooo!” She screamed as Mom dragged her into the shot chamber.
He needs to rethink his mode of attire for future pediatric cases.
Anyway, after awhile they reappeared the kid merely sobbing now. She stood next to me as her frazzled mother gathered up her things.
“The shot hurt Mommy, she said. “My arm hurts.”
This was more than I could stand.
I gave her a slow clap followed by a thumbs up.
She giggled and wiped her eyes.
“Big girl!” I said. “You and me got our shots today. Way to go.” And I gave her another “thumbs up.”
“High five!” Boom.
She laughed again. She was still rubbing her damn arm. But the crisis was over.
“Thaaaaaaank yoooooooooou,” the mom sang to me under her breath as she walked by.
No problem. Just call me Benjamin Frigging Spock.
Now, I understand why a little kid is reluctant to take a vaccine. Any vaccine. Shots hurt. And they hurt a lot when your experience with the world of pain is as constricted as her’s probably is. When my little partner in inoculation gets older she will learn that an ankle sprain hurts a whole hell of a lot worse than an injection.
But for the life of me, I do not understand why an adult, with no underlying conditions contraindicating same, doesn’t accept the shot. It is beyond my comprehension. I can maybe understand if it were really just a matter of “personal choice.” But it’s not. It’s about public health.
But I ramble.
I read where Squibb has developed an pill that seems effective in treating COVID. This is indeed great news. Let’s see if the science deniers turn that down too in favor of horse de-wormer or faith healing or something. Then we will know that a large portion of the public belongs to little more than a death cult at that point.
At least the little girl with me that day had the child’s reason to be scared. She’s a kid. She’s not a fool.
Shots hurt.
And to be honest, Phil does look kinda scary in that get-up. There’s a reason why a pediatrician friend of mine doesn’t wear a white coat. Or a face shield come to think of it.
