Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Flu Shot Shuffle
Late last week (can't remember for sure which day) my mother and I, after debating whether to try, at this point, to seek out a flu vaccine for her, heard that one of the usual fall flu shot destinations up here (which shall remain nameless) was advertising that it had gotten its hands on a "limited amount" of flu vaccine,after having previously advertised that it would be canceling its flu shot program until further notice. The "vulnerable populations" were urged to show up the following morning when the shots would be available, beginning at 0900. It was estimated that the available vaccine would be completely distributed by or before noon, so early attendance was urged.
"I suppose we'd better go," my mother said.
"There'll probably be a long line, a long wait. Are you up for that?"
"I don't see that I have a choice."
"Okay," I agreed, "I'll get you up early, get you ready and we'll go."
As those of you who read this regularly know, preparing my mother for the day takes a good couple of hours. I factored this in. I awoke her at 0600 to her protests, which I muffled by reminding her that we were going for a flu shot. By 0830 we were out the door with my mother's walker, wheelchair (upon which I insisted, telling her that there was no way I could see that she was going to be able to stand for a couple of hours), oxygen (in case the cold caused shallow breathing) and her bundled against the early morning fall mountain cold.
We arrived at the store a bit more than 15 minutes before the shot start time. The line for shots was already out the door and along the front of the store. We were close to the western corner of the front of the store. By 0900 the line had formed around that corner and about halfway down the northwestern wall. The line consisted of mostly elderly, with a sprinkling of mothers with babies and toddlers in tow. Although the news story the previous night had noted that at another store volunteers had set up shop to provide free water, coffee, doughnuts and sandwiches for those in line, as well as "some chairs" for those who were not capable of standing for long periods of time, there were no such volunteers or amenities at this location.
We waited. And waited. And waited. The line didn't move. At about 0945 an employee of the store's pharmacy department, clad in a white coat, moved down the line to inform us that the promised vaccine hadn't yet arrived but was on its way. By this, time, out of curiosity, I left my mother in line talking to our immediate neighbors and went around the store to see where it ended. I'd already noticed that people were parking not only along the street but across it in a parking lot owned by another business. The line, by that time, had formed around the back of the store.
By 1015 we still hadn't moved. Some people in line had already left, but apparently not anyone before us. The mood was not exactly upbeat, but neither was it dour. Seniors are a psychologically hardy bunch.
Maybe 15 minutes later I noticed a familiar smell coming from my mother. She'd had a bowel movement while sitting in the wheel chair. I leaned over, informed her of this, told her I'd brought supplies for this contingency and asked our immediate queue neighbors if they'd save our place in line if we left so I could clean her. They agreed. On a hunch, though, I decided to leave her in place while I searched out the store bathrooms, figuring that there might be a slight wait there, as well, to secure a stall. It was easy to spot the bathrooms. Both the men's and the women's had lines that snaked along the merchandise racks and around a corner. Some of the people standing in line were in clear distress. One man had wet his pants.
I did some quick figuring. At this rate, it would be a good half hour, if we were lucky, before I would be able to even begin cleaning my mother. I could get her home in 10 minutes. I trotted through the store to where the vaccination line began and noticed that although there was a table set up and a few white coated employees shuffling the forms that are required to document the administration of the shots, still, no shots were being given. No, I decided, I'm taking her home. Sitting in her shit for a good half hour or more then waiting for who knows how many hours for a vaccination was not a viable option. I packed my mother, her walker and oxygen (which she wasn't, at the moment, using) and our supplies up told my mother I was taking her home to clean her up.
"Good," she said. "If I get the flu this year it will probably be easier to handle than this." She wasn't referring to her bowel accident, with which she was comfortable, but her discomfort, which included the chill she'd caught despite me bundling her so thoroughly that she looked like an Arctic nomad.
In the evening we heard that most of the people who had arrived at the location were still waiting in line well after noon for a shot. Finally, as well, there was not enough vaccine to distribute to all who had come. If we'd stayed my mother probably would have been vaccinated, since we were fairly close to the entrance of the store, but we probably also would have been there all day. She would have missed most of her medications and at least one balanced meal, including her critical antibiotic for yet another UTI which she contracted early last week. And, she would have shivered for hours.
If she contracts the flu this year it probably won't be as easy as she thinks. But, now that she's no longer a smoker her chances of complications are less, at least. As well, she doesn't come into contact with that many people, lessening her chances of infection, as well. Over the last four years all her illnesses have been traceable to her injuries, anemia and physical conditions unrelated to airborne viruses and bacteria. I'm gambling that she'll be okay.
I have a call into her doctor in Mesa. The office has promised to let us know if and when flu vaccine becomes available to them. In the meantime I've called the veteran's hospital up here and continue to get the run around from them which involves my mother's ineligibility for any kind of treatment since she hasn't been seen in a veteran's facility since 1996. My mother continues, each time the evening news mentions the shortage of flu vaccine, to mention that she needs a flu shot. I remind her of the debacle we experienced last week and she says, "We'll wait until it's easier." This, of course, is my intention.
I keep up with the information on this flu vaccine problem this year. The truth is, I find it awfully convenient that yet another reason for general panic has been orchestrated just before an election in which the incumbent president's profile becomes more and more questionable by the day, his desperation for reelection is so pronounced one can smell it and, without continuing to attempt to instill a variety of amorphous, often unfounded fears within the general U. S. populace he probably wouldn't have even been nominated by his party, this year. Does his administration really believe that it is going to help his case if he endangers the health and lives of his constituents?
I have absolutely no solid basis for my suspicions. Certainly, nothing in the media reportage leads me to believe that this national health problem is a result of devious administrative manufacturing rather than faulty health product manufacturing. But, you know, it all just seems so typical of the years we've spent under the Bush administration. What if this crisis is either "solved" by the Bush administration just before the election, or, what if the Bush administration decides to use it to convince the electorate that a change in administration would, at this time, be foolhardy? Will this work? Actually, I don't think so. I think, and hope, that it's a little too late in the game for Bush, that most of us are tired of attempts at making us fearful of unidentifiable bogeymen and life, in general. But, you never know.
In the meantime, I wonder how many other caregivers of the elderly, as well as those elderly taking care of themselves, are running into the same problems negotiating receiving the flu vaccine this year that my mother and I are having. I'm not afraid, I'm angry. I feel as though my mother and I are being duped at the behest of a desperate administration. So, we'll tough it out. And I'll vote for a new administration this year.
It all seems so convenient...
"I suppose we'd better go," my mother said.
"There'll probably be a long line, a long wait. Are you up for that?"
"I don't see that I have a choice."
"Okay," I agreed, "I'll get you up early, get you ready and we'll go."
As those of you who read this regularly know, preparing my mother for the day takes a good couple of hours. I factored this in. I awoke her at 0600 to her protests, which I muffled by reminding her that we were going for a flu shot. By 0830 we were out the door with my mother's walker, wheelchair (upon which I insisted, telling her that there was no way I could see that she was going to be able to stand for a couple of hours), oxygen (in case the cold caused shallow breathing) and her bundled against the early morning fall mountain cold.
We arrived at the store a bit more than 15 minutes before the shot start time. The line for shots was already out the door and along the front of the store. We were close to the western corner of the front of the store. By 0900 the line had formed around that corner and about halfway down the northwestern wall. The line consisted of mostly elderly, with a sprinkling of mothers with babies and toddlers in tow. Although the news story the previous night had noted that at another store volunteers had set up shop to provide free water, coffee, doughnuts and sandwiches for those in line, as well as "some chairs" for those who were not capable of standing for long periods of time, there were no such volunteers or amenities at this location.
We waited. And waited. And waited. The line didn't move. At about 0945 an employee of the store's pharmacy department, clad in a white coat, moved down the line to inform us that the promised vaccine hadn't yet arrived but was on its way. By this, time, out of curiosity, I left my mother in line talking to our immediate neighbors and went around the store to see where it ended. I'd already noticed that people were parking not only along the street but across it in a parking lot owned by another business. The line, by that time, had formed around the back of the store.
By 1015 we still hadn't moved. Some people in line had already left, but apparently not anyone before us. The mood was not exactly upbeat, but neither was it dour. Seniors are a psychologically hardy bunch.
Maybe 15 minutes later I noticed a familiar smell coming from my mother. She'd had a bowel movement while sitting in the wheel chair. I leaned over, informed her of this, told her I'd brought supplies for this contingency and asked our immediate queue neighbors if they'd save our place in line if we left so I could clean her. They agreed. On a hunch, though, I decided to leave her in place while I searched out the store bathrooms, figuring that there might be a slight wait there, as well, to secure a stall. It was easy to spot the bathrooms. Both the men's and the women's had lines that snaked along the merchandise racks and around a corner. Some of the people standing in line were in clear distress. One man had wet his pants.
I did some quick figuring. At this rate, it would be a good half hour, if we were lucky, before I would be able to even begin cleaning my mother. I could get her home in 10 minutes. I trotted through the store to where the vaccination line began and noticed that although there was a table set up and a few white coated employees shuffling the forms that are required to document the administration of the shots, still, no shots were being given. No, I decided, I'm taking her home. Sitting in her shit for a good half hour or more then waiting for who knows how many hours for a vaccination was not a viable option. I packed my mother, her walker and oxygen (which she wasn't, at the moment, using) and our supplies up told my mother I was taking her home to clean her up.
"Good," she said. "If I get the flu this year it will probably be easier to handle than this." She wasn't referring to her bowel accident, with which she was comfortable, but her discomfort, which included the chill she'd caught despite me bundling her so thoroughly that she looked like an Arctic nomad.
In the evening we heard that most of the people who had arrived at the location were still waiting in line well after noon for a shot. Finally, as well, there was not enough vaccine to distribute to all who had come. If we'd stayed my mother probably would have been vaccinated, since we were fairly close to the entrance of the store, but we probably also would have been there all day. She would have missed most of her medications and at least one balanced meal, including her critical antibiotic for yet another UTI which she contracted early last week. And, she would have shivered for hours.
If she contracts the flu this year it probably won't be as easy as she thinks. But, now that she's no longer a smoker her chances of complications are less, at least. As well, she doesn't come into contact with that many people, lessening her chances of infection, as well. Over the last four years all her illnesses have been traceable to her injuries, anemia and physical conditions unrelated to airborne viruses and bacteria. I'm gambling that she'll be okay.
I have a call into her doctor in Mesa. The office has promised to let us know if and when flu vaccine becomes available to them. In the meantime I've called the veteran's hospital up here and continue to get the run around from them which involves my mother's ineligibility for any kind of treatment since she hasn't been seen in a veteran's facility since 1996. My mother continues, each time the evening news mentions the shortage of flu vaccine, to mention that she needs a flu shot. I remind her of the debacle we experienced last week and she says, "We'll wait until it's easier." This, of course, is my intention.
I keep up with the information on this flu vaccine problem this year. The truth is, I find it awfully convenient that yet another reason for general panic has been orchestrated just before an election in which the incumbent president's profile becomes more and more questionable by the day, his desperation for reelection is so pronounced one can smell it and, without continuing to attempt to instill a variety of amorphous, often unfounded fears within the general U. S. populace he probably wouldn't have even been nominated by his party, this year. Does his administration really believe that it is going to help his case if he endangers the health and lives of his constituents?
I have absolutely no solid basis for my suspicions. Certainly, nothing in the media reportage leads me to believe that this national health problem is a result of devious administrative manufacturing rather than faulty health product manufacturing. But, you know, it all just seems so typical of the years we've spent under the Bush administration. What if this crisis is either "solved" by the Bush administration just before the election, or, what if the Bush administration decides to use it to convince the electorate that a change in administration would, at this time, be foolhardy? Will this work? Actually, I don't think so. I think, and hope, that it's a little too late in the game for Bush, that most of us are tired of attempts at making us fearful of unidentifiable bogeymen and life, in general. But, you never know.
In the meantime, I wonder how many other caregivers of the elderly, as well as those elderly taking care of themselves, are running into the same problems negotiating receiving the flu vaccine this year that my mother and I are having. I'm not afraid, I'm angry. I feel as though my mother and I are being duped at the behest of a desperate administration. So, we'll tough it out. And I'll vote for a new administration this year.
It all seems so convenient...
