This piece is intended to reassure two old (as in the long time rather than advanced age sense) and dear friends who kindly contacted me on Messenger to express their anxieties for me after perusing my previous post, and any other readers who may be similarly concerned for my physical and mental health.
Yes, I admittedly did turn up for my appointment with destiny in the form of my first AstraZenica shot two days ago. And for all those who suspect me of thus flirting with fate, I’m happy to be able to report no sign whatever so far of anaphylactic shock or any others in a long list of potential after-effects.
Though of course I can’t be too sanguine yet about my chances of surviving the vaccination, as the rare blood-clotting condition associated with if not caused by the AstraZenica agent reportedly takes between four and ten days to rear its ugly head.
All that being said, however, I’m aware that most readers of my “Just a little prick” piece will be in suspense, not about my post-jab well-being so much as whether the lady who administered it prepared me for the experience by uttering that magic but menacingly ambiguous phrase.
And I can now reveal that she didn’t, thus disappointing me and no doubt many of you too. Instead, in the event, the best she could come up with as she prepared to plunge the needle in was the comparatively simple and straightforward caution that I “might feel a slight sting.”
Which I did, I suppose, though it was far, far slighter than many other stings I have experienced physically from such sources as sunburn and insect bites, or psychologically from painful rejections of my social and/or sexual advances and countless other similarly stinging and otherwise painful pricks to my self-esteem.
A thought brings me sharply to the point of this piece, which is that my initial dismay at being deprived of more opportunities to try and entertain myself and even perhaps you with word-plays on the word ‘prick’, has been greatly diminished by my subsequent realisation that ‘sting’ can also has serve this punny if not particularly funny purpose,
Because the entire anti-Covid vaccination campaign in Australia has been a series of stings as in con-jobs on us citizens by the Morrison-led federal government.
The first sting was Morrison’s attempt to Morriscon us months ago into believing that Australia was at the “front of the queue” for supplies of vaccines. And since then he’s attempted a whole series of other typical Morriscon-jobs on us. First claiming that it was the fault of the European Union that not enough vaccine doses had arrived here, and that the various Australian states had been slow in dispensing those that were available.
And now he’s desperately trying to Morriscon us into trusting the AstraZeneca vaccine if we’re over 50 years of age, and waiting for the Pfizer or other one if we’re younger, having meanwhile himself received the Pfizer one, and probably also having thus safeguarded his own family.
The all-too-predictable result of this series of stings is that only a tiny proportion of Australians so far have fronted-up for their jabs, or, if you prefer, little pricks, and the numbers of vaccine vacillators like my aforementioned anxious Facebook friends have absolutely soared.
As, I presume, have the numbers of the absolutely numb-minded among us, the anti-vaxxers.
But as far as I’m concerned personally, it’s a case of so far, so good, AstraZenecawise, and I’ll be happy to keep you posted on my progress with further postscripts; always presuming, of course, that I manage in the meantime to avoid my own post-mortem.