OLA Chairman Andrew Stephen on getting vaccinated . . .
A Glimpse of Freedom
“For my part, I am almost contented just now, and very thankful. Gratitude is a divine emotion. It fills the heart, but not to bursting; it warms it but not to fever”.
Charlotte Bronte.
Life is full of surprises but none greater than the phone call we received from the Queen Elizabeth Hospital inviting us for our Covid vaccinations later that very day. I realised that the vaccination programme had been gathering momentum and that virtually everyone over the age of 75 had had theirs or, at least, been offered the opportunity. Nonetheless, I thought that we would need to patient for a few weeks longer.
And patience is what we have learned. For almost a year, with just a few weeks of partial relief, we have lived in a kind of understated fear, waiting for the horror to end, waiting to see our loved ones, our friends and glimpses of our previous lives. We have patiently accepted not seeing familiar people, even those in our own village, and not always knowing how they are getting on. We have been compliant, uncomplaining and strangely accepting of a world which we never dreamed we would ever witness. And we have persuaded ourselves that really everything is all right, that long walks, labouring in the garden, brilliantly coloured and vast skies high above beautifully bleak landscapes are part of a wonderful bonus of time we didn’t expect to have.
And, of course, all that is true. I have enjoyed the silence, the emptiness, the absence of rushing and the dozens of kind acts which have inspired us all. And yet, hearing suddenly that deliverance was at hand, I allowed myself to think about what this horrible year has cost in addition to all those lives ended too soon. I began to think of nights in the pub, holding my grandchildren, going to the football and all the other adventures I have longed to share with my children. Things that I hadn’t allowed myself to think of because there seemed to be no point and no remedy. Low moods had been fought off as somehow unworthy and banished by activity and distraction.
And now we were off to King’s Lynn, awash with these thoughts and our stability rocked by the thought that profound change was coming. We were both very apprehensive. Such a profoundly significant event can’t be taken in your stride in the prescribed fashion. Would there be delays? Queues? Endless waiting and Administration? Would it actually happen at all?
Andrew and Liz await their jabs
On arrival we were warmly greeted by a steward who also works at Cambridge United when crowds are allowed. He was helpful, witty, good-natured and hugely reassuring. He told us that there was virtually no queue and that we’d be in and out in no time. He was right. Everything was simple and mercifully quick. What struck us very forcefully was the kindness and unending patience of staff and volunteers, some of whom had started at 8 in the morning and who would work a full 12 hours. A lot has already been said about the wonderful job the NHS are doing but what we saw was care at its very best. They had done 12,000 vaccinations in five weeks. Despite the long hours and remorseless workload, everyone was calm and cheerful. I felt so grateful to them that I would have cheerfully doubled their salary. Let’s hope that the politicians agree!
It’s hard to describe what we felt on our way home. Some euphoria certainly. A thought or two that we had survived the Pandemic after all, barring atrocious bad luck, accompanied by real apprehension about the difficult months and years which still lie in wait for us.
After all this enforced isolation it will take time and effort to bring our communities back together and for many of us to trust crowds. I don’t know if our village pub will ever reopen. If it doesn’t, this will thrust even greater responsibility on the church and our astonishingly transformed Village Hall. Although I will have no say in it, I hope that this wonderful and astonishingly timely facility will host community breakfasts, meals for the elderly, drop in sessions, classes and training sessions, a Dementia Café, a pop-up bar and even a Post Office, among other things. Our lives as part of social groups will take time to recover but, just maybe, it’s nearly time to begin the process.
