Father’s day Covid Jab #1

I could have been anyone with access to my name and date of birth which the clinic happened to have entered incorrectly. No ID or Medicare card check was requested; I just walked in, gave my name, waited in the queue, then had the jab.

“22nd August 2005,” some family member screamed out to a young man waiting in the queue. Who doesn’t know their own birth date, I wonder?

Despite the increasing crowd of 50 or more, I noted that only myself and one other person checked into the medical centre, via the Covid contact tracing app!

The nurse’s technique was textbook, yet her initial screening questions were vague. “Any serious conditions?” she asked in a lovely African accent. I could have done a tad better job at the questions, even with my outdated medical knowledge. Perhaps the Covid jab training is somewhat abridged?

Sheep-like, I followed the arrows on the path to an external waiting area, read: car park. A car park for people, one without patient engagement or monitoring, save by two attendants up front that were not in my direct line of sight chatting to each other.

I decided to set my own timer for 15 minutes lest I be sitting there all day.

I noted that there were no list of side effects handed out, either. (Perhaps it was an environmental initiative and they were trying to save the trees?) I had to give them the benefit of the doubt.

I’ve heard of better organization at the Government health hubs, so bearing in mind this was a private seven-day medical clinic, I’d have to say the efficiency of numbers through the door was the paramount driver in this facility.

Given Australia is in a race against time in terms of Covid, atm, the Government presumably thinks it is imperative to get as many folks jabbed as possible. Not that I disagree with that. For them, it is about image not health.

With the Corona Delta variant raging down south, unchecked by casual restrictions of an economics-only minded government that sings the mantra of, “we now have to learn to live with Covid,” – I prefer to be jabbed asap.

Once again I observe that I am still not in the line of sight of the attendants. If I fainted or fell asleep on my chair, would anyone notice?

In the time it has taken me to write up this post on my phone,  I calculated I am now free to leave – by my own measurement. Not a clock in sight. 15 minutes are up according to the timer on my watch.

I am off to enjoy the rest of my Sunday. It is Father’s Day here.

I hope you enjoy yours too.