This past week saw parents scrambling to make last minute changes to their children's Halloween costumes while madly trying to find a way to get the trick-or-treaters vaccinated against the H1N1 virus. The costumes were the easy part. The vaccination...not so much. Anxious parents drove across the city and lined up for hours, only to be told by Public Health workers that lines had been closed, or clinics had not even opened. In Toronto there’s a new standard by which to judge the “Haves” and “Have-Nots” and it all involves who’s managed to roll up their sleeves and get the elusive needle.
How quickly public sentiment can change. Just one week ago, an email arrived in my inbox from a friend imploring everyone on his contact list to NOT be vaccinated. Why? Because a neurosurgeon in Louisiana advocates against all vaccines on the basis of toxicity. As of Friday, that same friend was calling Medcan, a private medical clinic, desperately looking for a way to get his son vaccinated at the front of the line. He wasn’t alone. Across the city, people woke up, read the alarming headlines that two children had died of flu-like symptoms and stampeded doctors offices, local ER departments and the late-to-the-game flu clinics. Clearly, large swaths of the population agreed with the Globe and Mail’s public health reporter, Andre Picard, when he wrote “The risk (of the vaccine) ... is theoretical. The risk of the flu is real”.
Municipalities across North America are struggling to deliver vaccinations efficiently - a major embarrassment after imploring citizens to be vaccinated and stop the spread of this latest virulent flu. Creative approaches are being used; Los Angeles County, California provided drive-through clinics and managed to serve over 3,000 people about four hours, not withstanding horrific traffic jams. Sault Sainte-Marie got it right and is being hailed as a model of pandemic preparedness. The Soo’s 80,000 residents didn’t have to brave lengthy lineups in the rain and/or vaccine shortages because the community’s public health authority has long understood the importance of technology in administering health care. By simply working with a (private) phone centre, priority-designated Soo residents could call a 1-800 number, book an appointment, show up at the designated time and place and be inoculated. How incredibly civilized.
This weekend, Canadians were grimly informed that health authorities are expecting a massive delay in receiving the millions of vaccines ordered from the manufacturer GlaxoSmithKlein. Oops. Clinics will only be vaccinating priority individuals and not implementing the roll-out for the general population. Poor planning combined with hysteria has lead to front-line health care workers being inundated with questions, requests and threats. Dr. Marvin Gans, a respected North Toronto pediatrician and physician at Sick Kid’s hospital surveyed the wreckage of his waiting room last Thursday and off-handedly announced to those of us lined up that Public Health had royally f**cked this flu vaccine up. He had no way of knowing if they could even deliver half of the required vaccines to his office as promised. Oops again. But really, what should Torontonians have expected? Let’s not forget that Toronto Public Health spent the majority of the summer on strike instead of preparing for the next great flu disaster. Granted, it’s no simple feat to inoculate millions of people against a flu strain that reared it’s nasty head a mere seven months ago, but Canadians are (for the most part) practical and well educated. We won’t ignore the sad fact of dying children and will do whatever it takes to get inoculated.
So tomorrow, I will disregard any lingering doubts about vaccine safety and toxicity and take my children to Dr. Gans’ office for their vaccines. Oh yes, I was one of the lucky few who got an appointment, but will have to brave the waiting room packed with equally concerned parents all hoping for the same thing: that the doctor doesn’t run-out of the vaccine before seeing my kids. But luckily, Halloween has come and gone, and I’ll have a big bag of candy to keep them quiet as we wait. But really, who knows? I may walk out of there with two children wildly jacked on sugar, but sadly not jabbed by a needle. I’ll keep you posted.
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