coffee cup

I got my Covid-19 vaccine, and I have never been so excited to be stabbed in the arm

Ladies and Gentlemen, we interrupt the relentless doom and gloom that these Lockdown Diaries of mine have become, with a little bit of good news: er, for me, I mean. It’s actually pretty much irrelevant news for the rest of you, so sorry about that, but let the record show that last Friday, at 5pm, I got my first dose of the Covid-19 vaccination, and I guess it’s a real sign of the times we’re living in right now that it was the absolute highlight of my year so far. And last year, too, actually.

Covid-19 vaccination centre(This is the only photo I got, because, as much as I wanted a selfie of some kind to mark the occasion, I also didn’t want to be THAT person asking to take a selfie in a vaccination centre, so…)

I actually hesitated a bit to write about this, purely because I know there’s been a lot of controversy about who gets vaccinated when, and I’m aware that I was very fortunate to get my vaccination a little earlier than most of my age group, purely because of Terry’s status as a clinically extremely vulnerable (CEV) person. This was totally unexpected to me, but it seems a decision was made by the Scottish Government early last week to offer the vaccine to the households of people on the CEV list, as an added layer of protection for them: as I mentioned in my last diary post, Terry has already had the jab himself, but as he’s immunosuppressed, we just don’t know for sure yet how effective it will be for him, which is why I was offered it too.

This is something that happens routinely with other vaccines (For instance, I get the flu vaccine every year to increase Terry’s protection from it, and Max was vaccinated against chicken pox, which isn’t normally offered on the NHS in this country…), but we didn’t know if it would happen with this one, so when I walked downstairs last Tuesday afternoon and spotted a bright blue envelope lying on the doormat (In Scotland, vaccination appointment letters are being sent out in blue envelopes, for added drama..), I was so surprised I actually assumed it couldn’t possibly be for me, and that it must be an appointment for Terry’s second dose, or, I don’t know, just a cruel trick of the light or something. 

Then I picked it up, saw my name on the front, and immediately ran upstairs to the office, screaming, “OH MY GOD!” so loudly that Terry assumed the house was on fire. 

(Then I realised I’d been so excited that I’d neglected to implement my strict ‘Mail Handling in a Pandemic’ protocol, and had touched my own stupid face shortly after picking up the envelope, which meant I get to spend the next week or so worrying that I’LL be the person to catch Covid from the letter containing my vaccination appointment –  because, let’s face it, that’s totally the kind of thing that would happen to me, isn’t it?)

(Yes, I know it’s very unlikely, but, you know, tell that to my health anxiety and let me know how you get on, please…)

(THEN I remembered I was also waiting for a smear test appointment, and that I was going to feel pretty stupid, really, if I’d carried out a Ceremonial Un-Opening of the Envelope just for THAT. Yes.)

blue envelope for Covid-19 vaccineMy appointment was last Friday, and, because I am me, I felt quite emotional as the needle went into my arm, but because I am British, I obviously did my best to be all stiff-upper-lip-under-my-mask about it: which was actually more challenging than you might think, because everyone was just so NICE … Both the nurse/volunteer who gave me my jab and the man who showed me the way out of the building thanked me for coming in, and even in the short time I was there, I just got the sense that everyone involved was really happy to be doing their bit. So, yeah, it was quite moving, really, to see the massive effort that’s being made to bring some normality back to the world, and, as I exited the building, I felt a very uncharacteristic urge to give everyone I saw a giant, “We’re all in it together!” kind of hug – an urge I obviously suppressed because, a) PANDEMIC and, b) OBVIOUSLY.

I was given the Oxford / AstraZeneca vaccine, the progress of which I’ve followed closely throughout its development, so to finally get to the stage of actually receiving it felt like a Great Big Deal to me, and while, as I said in my last post, it hasn’t made any real difference to my life so far (We’re still in lockdown, and still following all of Da Roolz, vaccinated or not…), the knowledge that every person who’s vaccinated takes us one step closer to normality is a big comfort to me in these dark times. 

And that concludes this rare, positive update from me: I’m sure regular programming will re-commence soon…

[Top photo by Melnychuk Nataliya on Unsplash]

COMMENTS
  • Sacha

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    So, so happy for you!!! ❤️

    March 5, 2021
  • Myra Boyle

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    Glad to hear this

    March 5, 2021
  • Hayley Lawrence

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    I’m so pleased for you and really hope it works for Terry. The usually suppressed not nice part of me has ‘vaccine envy’ (not for people in your situation} but for the people who are younger than me who have no health problems , aren’t health workers etc, who have had the vaccine (AND like to tell everyone on social media) while I have several chronic neurological issues and haven’t seen hide nor hair of a needle. Have I been missed because of a long distance house move? Who can I ask because the first thing I hear when I ring my new doctors is to NOT to mention the V word (the one that’s nothing to do with female genitalia) to them? I even had a secret but suppressed desire to punch my husband on his vaccine site as he waved his card in my face. Is it the British aversion to queue jumping in me or has lockdown made me a monster? I also had 2 NHS envelopes and got excited but one was for a boob squashing mammogram and the other was to say that in my new county there is a 30 week wait for a neurology appointment.

    March 5, 2021
  • Barbara West

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    I am very happy to hear this, Amber! I received my first of two Pfizer shots a couple of weeks ago with no ill effects. (I am 73 with one health issue that puts me in the second tier here.) And although I don’t mind getting shots, I also teared up behind my mask with thankfulness while waiting in line!

    March 5, 2021
  • Kalli

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    I am so happy for you! And also a bit jealous, I probably won’t be eligible for the vaccine till way later in the year (with the rate of vaccination in my country). It’s such a hopeful step towards being protected and slowly getting back to normal.

    March 5, 2021
  • Fiona Brough

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    So pleased for you, and I think that’s a really sensible and commendable decision the NHS has made on vaccinating households of CEV people. Hopefully nobody would have a problem with you getting vaccinated before they are but if they do then they’re just a-holes and should be ignored.

    March 5, 2021
  • Hanka

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    I was so glad for you when I saw your photo on Instagram stories. I could imagine what a relief must have been for you!

    March 5, 2021
  • Amanda

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    Congrats! That’s so great to hear!

    March 8, 2021
  • Nathan

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    I’m confused as to why you seem so excited to have taken an experimental gene therapy injection….
    Are you aware several countries have put a hold on this injection due to blood clotting and other adverse reactions?

    I suggest you check out VAERS (Vaccine adverse events reaction system) for the you hundreds of deaths and thousands of severe reactions.

    This experimental jab doesn’t stop you from contracting or spreading covid, so the question is…. Why on earth would you take it?

    Mrna has never been used on humans before and has never made it past animal clinical trials in 15 years. I wonder why.

    Anyone who takes this is a guinea pig for trials which are due to end 2023.

    Final question…. How do you know it’s safety in the medium/long term?

    Spoiler… You don’t. No body does.

    Next time you become mildly ill you have no idea how your body will react as the mrna is coded to override your dna function.

    It’s so sad you’ve been guilt tripped into thinking that you will return to “normal” after taking this experimental injection.

    Finally, it’s clear how much this situation has damaged you by the fact you got scared after touching your face after opening your letter.
    It’s so cringy and embarrassing to see grown adults behave in this unnatural way.

    A virus cannot survive on an envelope, dear. As a virus isn’t a living organism.
    Read ‘the contagion myth’ by Dr Tom Cowan if you want to free yourself from this paranoia.

    Good luck

    March 12, 2021
    • Maria

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      Hello, I come from the future just to tell you to shut up and stop being such an ass***e to strangers on the internet. Good luck with that, cringy, pathetic excuse of an orifice.

      October 8, 2021
  • Emerald

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    Yeah, good luck to the last caller too!

    I’m so glad you’ve had your jag, must be a huge relief. We’re still waiting for our blue envelopes here in Glasgow. I imagine it’ll be soon. ????

    March 12, 2021
  • Anneke Caramin

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    I’m so happy for you! And too bad the antivax crazies seem to have found this post, what on earth?

    March 21, 2021
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