At the end of November, when the hospital where I was working was overflowing with Covid patients, I started hearing talk about people being needed to get into the vaccination effort. I usually work elsewhere in the NHS, but my work has been suspended for a while. I now work as a vaccine in the community going to care homes and supported accommodation, and visiting homes for the elderly and vulnerable.
The training was over a month, and intense. We learned about the principles of intramuscular injection, how to do human screening, confirming patient details with GPs and pharmacists, and lots of information about how the Pfizer and AstraZeneca vaccines work. Then we had three days of good practice in a vaccine center complex – injection, injection, injection, injection. The vaccines I trained with all the fun of being sometimes like the Battle of Britain every day. We’re in the distribution area making a bad joke, and the next minute is: “Here’s the list, neat, scramble! ”
The Pfizer vaccines are usually used in supermarkets, due to the low temperature at which they need to be stored. I take those AstraZeneca with me into the community in a cool, temperature-controlled bag. It’s kind of weird to know what you’re carrying sometimes. It is like treasure. We have volunteer drivers helping to get these vaccines around, but sometimes people drive themselves in their cars, or on bikes or scooters. We all do late flow tests two or three times a week. Some care homes also require them before we come in, with masks, aprons and goggles or visors.
It’s hard sometimes to hear the news at the end of the day that 300,000 people have been vaccinated, no matter how great that may be. We’re lucky if we make 50. At the end of the day, we often spend a few hours trying to find people who will take our spoons. My husband is asking if I can vaccinate him, but I can’t.
The way we work is very different from hubs. You can’t just turn around at a care home and bring everyone in. This is because we are injectors, not prescribers. Everyone needs a paper from a GP to get the vaccine, something called Specialist Patient Guidelines (PSD), which is not always in place. I often call GPs on the day to try to get the papers there and then, try to get receptionists. Sometimes we get there, sometimes we don’t, and we need this for care home workers as well. I had one at one shelter who stayed up late after moving early in the morning to get his injection, but the GP would not cooperate in time. It’s very sad.
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We also need patient consent, and for some, that has to come from surviving someone [personal welfare] power of attorney, which must also be resolved. At times when we turn around, the people on our list have gone out for a walk, and we don’t know where they are – we have to try to mop them up later. We have patients and even care home staff who have refused the vaccine. Sometimes you get the feeling that they are waiting to see if everyone else who has caught it grows a tail.
I have found that it is very unlikely that you will submit a total rejection, but we are well trained in explaining how the vaccines work for people with doubts. It’s great to be able to go around and educate people. What surprised me was how little some knew. I tell people: if you have the vaccine, it gives your immune system a head start on what might be coming, this strange weird thing. Then if you get Covid, your immune system will know what to do.
People are so thankful that it was explained to them in this way, and often surprise them. Many people talk about the goals in government messages. It makes me think about how rude they have been, and the legacy that has been. Every conversation I have feels like falling into the ocean against misinformation.
It would be great to have more staff to support the vaccination effort in all things, but they are very willing to join everything throughout the NHS, and make it work alongside the -in the 12 weeks. There are teams in drug departments in hospitals that I don’t think got more than two hours of sleep per night for months. They keep this going. It is not simple enough to say that there are also not enough vaccines: there are not enough staff in care homes and in the NHS to help process PSD papers, and there are not enough staff at GPs to keep that going. More clinical staff around these gaps would take this effort to the next level. The 12-week window is approaching there, but we know it is. It would be scary for us to fail.
It has been great to do this job in so many ways. I’ve seen the whole of Britain in my community, from wealthy seniors in posh care homes to troubled young adults with long-term conditions overcoming addiction. I went to one place for vulnerable adults and five or six close friends in a room were excited to get the vaccine, support each other, and then call on their relatives to tell they got it. In care homes for the elderly, they are very happy to see me. They all want to talk. They have not seen a different face for so long. Until you are asked the simplest things – “What is your name? Where are you from? How long have you been here? ” – they are so happy.
One doctor told me the other week, it feels like we’re injecting hope to some degree. It really is.