Yesterday was Day 323 of self-isolation for me. And it turned out to be quite a surreal experience because I got my first Covid-19 vaccination.
As regular readers will know I turned 70 earlier this month, so I’m (just) in the 15 million people the PM is promising will be vaccinated by mid-February. Until the last few days this had looked pretty unachievable to me.
On Wednesday of last week, at a PPG** meeting, our GP’s Practice Manager said that they had almost finished inviting the over-75s for vaccination – which I found slightly surprising – and implied they would start calling the over-70s in a week or so. OK, I thought, if I’m lucky I may get invited in 2-3 weeks time.
Imagine my surprise when the next day I received a text inviting me to book my jab. Follow the link to make a booking, it said. Knowing this was the preferred approach, I did. I was offered a slot for yesterday afternoon at the Town Hall (one of two centres doing vaccinations in the borough). It’s a taxi ride away so I wasn’t overjoyed, but I booked.
A local London black cab driver is offering local people fixed price wait-and-return trips to vaccine centres. He quoted me what I knew was a good price and I booked him to take me.
Come the day, I’m a bit concerned. This will be only the fourth time in 323 days I’ve been off the premises. I don’t know the cab driver (except on social media). And I have to mix with hundreds of the great unwashed at the Town Hall. I made this worse by not leaving myself enough time to get ready at ease (because I went to sleep after lunch – as you do) so I was a bit flustered. But we got there. Paul the cab driver was bang on time, friendly and helpful. He got me to the appointment 15 minutes early, so I expected to wait.
There is no queue! Check in at the front desk. Go to the Waiting Area, be checked in again. I’m still expecting to wait, but after a couple of minutes I’m called. Check in a third time at another desk and be given my official card; sit and wait in another area.
Now go to that station where a nurse asked the usual questions (date of birth, allergies …) and stuck a needle in my arm. I hardly felt it, less even that a flu jab. Then because I’ve had the Pfizer vaccine, go to another room to sit for 15 minutes to make sure I’m OK. And then home.
I was out of the house for no more than 60 minutes, including a 15-20 minute taxi ride each way and 15 minutes “under observation”.
But it was so weird. I find our Victorian Town Hall bizarrely labyrinthine at the best of times. But having hardly been out for a year, being among so many people, having to be careful of social distancing, and not having been in a black cab for well over a year … plus mask, gloves and hearing aids … and (let’s be honest) what is still by normal rules an experimental vaccination … well it was all rather surreal.
What made it worse was that having got home, and changed, I still felt contaminated for the rest of the day, which was partly the Town Hall, but mostly the proximity to the number of people. And that was quite unexpected!
The after-effects? So far after 24 hours, effectively none. My arm was a bit sore last night, less so this morning and now it has almost gone. That’s all.
So what was my impression of the NHS’s running of the programme? Absolutely astonished and gobsmacked, in a good way.
At first sight, from the outside, it looked as disorganised as I feared it might be. But it wasn’t! It was actually well organised, efficient, great care over safety, well staffed. I didn’t count, but there were around two dozen NHS people there. Of them about 10 were clinicians (two preparing injections and 6-8 actually administering them). The rest were checking people, shepherding, helping those with mobility problems, and generally watching over social distancing. It wasn’t frantically busy but steady; enough that no-one was under pressure or rushed – which makes for good care and safety. Everyone was helpful, friendly and in a good humour; I heard no-one grumbling.
Yes, it was well organised. For just one centre like this, for at least 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, with NHS staff volunteering for the work in addition to their normal jobs … getting the vaccine supply and patient supply to match up … well the logistics is not easy. To do that countrywide, in the time available, is a huge achievement.
From what I saw, the IT systems behind it all are good, especially given the scale. Everything the centre needs seemed to be there, it works, and seems pretty slick. The IT is sufficiently complex that I also don’t know how it’s been put together in the time available. There may be a load of swans paddling furiously under the surface, but if there are it doesn’t show.
I know we all moan about the NHS’s ability to get things done, and done properly, but from a patient’s perspective this one looks like a resounding success. I was really impressed.
** Patient Participation Group for a GP Practice. I’m Chairman of our group.
This is unreal. I mean, how have I clocked up almost three-score years and ten? I’ve not done nearly enough to warrant that length of time! I have memories of being at primary school, grammar school, and my effectively 7 years as a student, plus large chunks of the last 20 years. However there are huge parts of my working life which are an almost complete blank. I have no day-to-day memories, images, or recollections of what I was doing – at least far fewer than for other periods. Perhaps because it was tedious and boring? 
