![]() ![]() Woven among these patients - Dora, Robert, Joseph, Rebecca, Gerald, Millie, and Natalie - were many others, each with their own unique thoughts and concerns about the vaccine. “Dad, can you please go wait over there?” When she asked me to change her contact email to her own instead of her dad’s, I obliged. Her father hovered over her, seeming more anxious than she was. ![]() Born in the 2000s? Surely that couldn’t be right. I did a double take when I verified her birthday. Thin and androgynous, Natalie was only 16, one of the few minors who could receive the vaccine at that time. When they went to the observation area, they pulled together two of the socially distanced chairs so that they could sit next to each other.Īt the end of the evening, Natalie came to my station. Though another vaccination station opened up while I was counseling them, Gerald insisted on receiving the vaccine from the same person as Millie. We discussed the benefits of receiving the vaccine despite having possible natural immunity from a prior COVID-19 infection, and I explained to them the vaccine side effects that they could expect. They were worried the vaccine would make them feel the same way. The infection had not been severe, but it had also not been pleasant. They were nervous to get the vaccine because they had had COVID-19 before. Soon after, a gray-haired couple came together to my station: Gerald and Millie. I obliged, running through all the standard questions and administering the shot in no more than five minutes. She told me that her parking would run out in 30 minutes, so she hoped I would be quick. I thanked him for his kind words as I pointed him toward the post-vaccination observation area.Īn imperious woman, Rebecca, came next. “Because you’re a Christian,” he said, pointing to my cross necklace. After I gave him the vaccine, he said quietly, “I’m glad you’re the one who gave me the vaccine.” He gave monosyllabic responses and said no when I asked him if he had any questions for me. I told him yes, in moderation.Īn older man named Joseph came after Robert. “Hey, it’s OK if I drink tonight, right?” Robert asked as he stood up. They politely listened to my vaccine spiel, and cheered once the vaccine was given. I waved hello to the screen of faces as I swabbed his upper arm with an alcohol wipe. Next was Robert, a young man who hid his nervousness by FaceTiming a group of his friends while he got vaccinated. “OK, I guess I had better get it over with,” she finally said, and I administered the shot. We discussed the very real possibility of vaccine side effects, such as flu-like symptoms and arm soreness, and I encouraged her to take ibuprofen or acetaminophen to help with any discomfort. She was concerned about a vaccine reaction preventing her from working. My first patient was a middle-aged woman named Dora. As I counseled each one on what to expect, they shared with me their thoughts and feelings. They came quickly and steadily - eager, stoic, anxious, or a mix. We took our seats at our stations and waited for the patients to come. In the shadow of grief, she was finding meaning and hope in giving vaccinations. On the bus ride, another volunteer had told me about how her uncle had died due to COVID-19 last year. We were hoping to administer 70 first doses that evening to local community members. The volunteers were mostly third- and fourth-year medical students, myself included. It was a stately church in Fort Washington with a grassy lawn surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The other COVID-19 vaccinator volunteers and I stretched as we exited the bus to enter the pop-up vaccination site. Op-Med is a collection of original articles contributed by Doximity members.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |