Thanks to having a pre-existing medical condition – which, to be fair, I don’t know what it could be but assume it’s something to do with mental health – I am allowed the Covid jab a little bit earlier than I should be having it. Not a lot earlier, but maybe a week or two. It doesn’t really matter though, in the greater scheme of things because my contact with others is still incredibly limited. And, where possible, will remain that way post-June anyway!
What I like about having my jab is that the option to book the appointment came maybe a day or so after all the blood clot malarky started kicking off. You know, the optimal best time to have the jab and undoubtedly have the one that’s the root of all evil, according to the news, is directly after you start hearing reports of all that jazz.
But I booked it anyway. And then I did my homework like a diligent person would do. I read the side effects. I read about the blood clots. And the ridiculously low percentages involved in that. And so I stopped worrying. Not that I was particularly worried in the first place – I’m certainly not one for believing that there’s a tracking device buried away in there or that it’s actually to reprogram my DNA for reasons as yet unspecified but it’s definitely for that. Mainly because I’m not a loon. And also, if there is a tracking device, I hope whoever’s watching my movements has a comfy chair and book to read because they’re in for a dull existence.
My vaccination centre was at Huddersfield Town’s stadium. And as I queued up, I could just feel the sporting greatness wafting off the place. I’ve never been to the stadium before for anything – not the sporting end, anyway. And I was thoroughly underwhelmed by the whole thing. And, really, nothing screams hygiene and low chance of infection than concrete walls and peeling paint.
But other than that it was a quick and easy deal.
There’s questions, there’s a needle, then you can go home.
That was it. The booking thing says you might need to wait for 15 minutes in case of any allergic reactions – that didn’t seem to be a thing at all. Unless that’s only if you say you are allergic to anything and then they watch you like a hawk, otherwise you’re packed off for freedom when the needle is barely out of your arm. The walk out of the vaccination centre is so bloody long, though, essentially all the way round the fricking football ground, that if you were to have an allergic reaction you’d have swollen up to twice your normal size before you reach the exit gate.
So now I’ve got tomorrow to look forward to – a day which, judging by anecdotal evidence from relatives and friends, might be a bit shitty as variety of side-effects sweep through my system. So far, the most exciting thing that’s happened is that my arm aches a bit, as though it’s had a needle jabbed in it, and I was a teensy bit shivery even though the thermostat says its warm.
I’m going to be so annoyed if nary a side effect comes to visit.