Government dropped the ball on Covid-19 vaccines. Here’s why I won’t

As part of the 50-plus cohort, I registered for my Covid-19 vaccination Thursday.

Yes, I know journalists are next in line as well, but being office-bound I would rather my colleagues in the street line up ahead of me.

They need it more and I’m happy to stand in the other line.

The process was simple, taking around a minute.

And it wasn’t fear of the virus which has made me anxious about receiving the vaccine, but fear of passing it on.

Do not mistake me being anxious about the vaccine for being worried about any possible side effects.

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Anecdotal evidence of one coming up: With the amount of crap I’ve had injected by doctors into me over the years, this particular vaccine is the least of my problems.

How many of us have had the six-in-one shot (DTaP-IPV-HBV-/Hib) which protects against diphtheria, tetanus, pertussis, Haemophilus influenzae type b (Hib), poliomyelitis and hepatitis B?

Various forms of penicillin, headache pills, all the drugs for anaesthetics for surgery, broken bones, septicaemia from a dog bite, antibiotics over the years which have destroyed my teeth and more.

Then there’s the petrol I’ve inadvertently swallowed stealing fuel from my parents car for my bike, and all the medications for various ailments over the years.

I would hazard my intake of legally prescribed chemicals wasn’t too different from many people who led active lives or perhaps I’m particularly clumsy – ok, probably the latter coupled with being spectacularly unlucky – but I’m not about to let this new vaccination trouble me.

I once had occasion years ago to visit the Sizwe Tropical Disease Hospital in Sandringham for a story about tuberculosis patients being treated for multi and extreme drug resistant TB and tucked away in a corner, stood an old iron lung.

Nowadays, of course, it’s become a lot simpler with intubation and ventilators. However, as anyone who’s been on a ventilator for an extended period of time, I can speak to the pain of when the tube comes out.

There is also an associated risk of ventilator-associated pneumonia developing, which – having had pneumonia – I’d rather avoid, thank you kindly.

The Delta variant is scary in how quickly it jumps from one person to the next. And we don’t know how much more dangerous it is than any other variant out there.

What we do know is how much more effective it is at ensuring its own survival, taking only seconds to spread from person to person.

I’ve been extremely fortunate, having been quite isolated in the last 18 months and can count the number of people I’ve had regular contact with in this time on one hand.

The number of people I’ve had occasional contact with, I can count on two hands.

So lining up for the vaccination feels moot, except it will allow me to begin approximating a normal lifestyle.

Well, normal for me, given large crowds, shopping malls, and speaking to strangers have me in cold sweats.

Yes, I know, I’m in the perfect job.

That aside, while the recovery rate from Covid-19 is very high, and with the National Institute of Communicable Diseases (NICD) – ironically directly across the road from the TB hospital – stating vaccines remain highly effective in preventing severe disease after Delta variant infection, with the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine showing 96% efficacy after two doses, you can bet your sweet bippy I’m lining up for my jab.

We can moan and whine about government dropping the ball, which it unequivocally has, but when the ball is passed to us we have a duty to run with it.