This is what a travesty looks like

 This is what a travesty looks like. 

This is the COVID vaccination hub at the Exhibition Buildings in Melbourne at 1.20 pm today (Saturday afternoon).

Seriously. 

And I'd booked for a vaccination. I could sneak myself into the 1B tranche as I'm over 50, overweight and have high blood pressure. Despite the extra weight and the high blood pressure, I'm generally in rude health. Also, my gym buddy, Jay, is a GP. She spends her days talking to people about how stupid they are not to be getting vaccination as soon as possible. I've been lectured on this three times a week for months. Getting the jab early was a given. Waiting for my GP to contact me wasn't an option. The hubs help free up the GPs. 

From Monday, at least in Victoria, if you're over 50, reasonably healthy and don't have any underlying health concerns (and they are pretty well documented what these health concerns are) you're welcome to get the Astra Zeneca jab. 

What I'm asking now is why aren't people getting their arses to these vaccination hubs? 

For information on how to get a vaccination booking, go here.

Why wouldn't you want to get this into your arm as soon as you can? 

For me, the importance of early vaccination is a multi-faceted thing. 

I work in the city in an office environment. I take public transport to work. If this craphole of a disease comes back, I want as much immunity to this as possible. I don't want to be locked down again. 

Secondly, this is a public health and community service. While they wait for the Pfizer jabs to become available for the under 50s, get us, the great unwashed elderlies out of the way. Besides, being one of the great unwashed older population, we're the ones who are generally struck down harder by this awful pestilence. Getting some immunity is a very good thing. Vaccination may not stop you getting this, but it will stop you getting really sick and dying from it. 

Thirdly, I want to travel. I miss travel. Vaccination is the ticket to travel once our craphouse Federal government start letting us travel again. (Don't get me started on the quarantine situation, or the fact that citizens in India cannot return home - and I won't remind you that QUARANTINE IS A FEDERAL GOVERNMENT RESPONSIBILITY... as it says in the constitution). But to travel, whenever that may be, you will need to be vaccinated. Maybe once I get that second jab in August, I might happily go see Geetangeli in Christchurch. (And yes, I could see her now, but there are a couple of other factors in play at the moment).

Fourth. This is a global citizenry thing. I've watched my friends overseas fret and mourn their friends and family as they've succoumbed to COVID. It's not something anybody wants to get. The lingering effects can go on for months. I think it's an insult to the rest of the world to not get this done. Just because we haven't got this here at the moment is no reason for compacency. 

Anyway, as the hubs are next to empty at the moment, I made a call late last week. Yes, it was a few days early, but they'd happily let me book my appointment (and they asked a lot of questions over the phone).

Today, I turned up. After checking in on the app, replacing my tram mask for a medically issued mask, I went to the nice girl to check in. Medicare card. Check. Driver's licence. Check. Go through to the waiting area. One minute later, get taken through to a cubicle. 

I had a very nice nurse named Nellie take me through the protocol. They are VERY thorough. More questions on both sides. I had to ask about the clotting thing, not that I'm worried about it, but I wanted to know what to look for. They were incredibly respectful. I got asked repeatedly if I wanted to curtain to the booth shut - my reply was you're giving me a needle, not a pap smear. Get on with it. 

The needle didn't hurt. At all. Barely felt it. 

Then it was the obligatory 15 minute wait to ensure you don't have a major reaction and then you're free to go. 

My only big gripe is there was no lollipop at the end. You always get a lollipop when you get a needle - they had no lollipops. This was gutting (and against the rules of jabs. YOU SHOULD GET A FUCKING LOLLIPOP)

Seven hours on, I've got a bit of a sore arm, but that's it. I'm prepared for the following: 

• A bad night's sleep
• Having a headache tomorrow
• Feeling crap tomorrow
• Feeling fluey tomorrow
• Having more of a dead arm for a couple of days
• Getting a bit of a fever tomorrow

Or a mix of the above. Or I might feel fine and just getting on with it. I have panadol at the ready. It's a day. Like when you have a flu shot - which you can't have until a solid two weeks have passed. Mine is booked for late May.  

Anecodotally, of my friends who've had the Astra Zeneca jab, more than half have had mild fluey symptoms for a day - which is why I cleared tomorrow, just in case. Quiet day at best, doona day at worst. 

They give you a lot of information to read as well. The fifteen minutes wait goes really quickly. 

Also, this is the hard bit over. Talking with Nellie the Nurse, with the Astra Zeneca jab, the first one give the most overhang, the worst of the side effects. The second one, which for me is now due in early August, should have next to no side effects. The Pfizer jab, anecdotally, gives fewer side effects the first time round, but the second one hits you like a Mack Truck. 

I was home half an hour later, livid about all of this. 

Why aren't we shouting this service from the rooftops? Why are they spawning doubt about these vaccinations. You have more chance of developing clots if you're on the pill or taking a long haul flight. Why aren't we, as a nation, seeing the urgency in this?

This isn't the time for our lacksidasical she'll-be-right-mate attitude. 

This needs to be done. 

(And of course, if you have valid health concerns, talk to your doctor before getting this done - everybody is different, everybody has different concerns.)

Today's song: