After sitting alone in my flat for most of last year, I jumped at the chance to deliver Covid vaccines. This is what I’ve learned
Pushing a needle through fake skin is not much like the real thing. So I discovered when I vaccinated my first patient at a mass vaccination centre in north London. You feel for a person’s shoulder blade and give the injection two finger-widths below the tip of the shoulder, in the middle of the deltoid muscle. In training, you’re given a salmon-coloured “arm” of silicone sponge to practise on. In reality, arms – like the people they belong to – are unique; it takes a little while to confidently feel your way with each new person you close the NHS regulation blue curtain behind.
When I saw an advert for people willing to train as vaccinators in early January, I applied at once. The idea of being an active part of a historic vaccination rollout was thrilling. I have clinical experience as an assistant psychologist, can put people at ease and was very ready for a meaningful break from spending 10 hours a day looking at a screen alone in my flat. The training was delivered by a group of witty, absolutely zero-bullshit female clinicians wearing Crocs. The conversation was sharp; I adored them immediately. We covered infection control (including a sobering experiment with UV gel; trust me, you need to clean your thumbs), PPE, life support and, of course, learning to inject. I remember a surreal moment, looking around a room full of lawyers, medical students, psychotherapists, cycling instructors and shop managers in full PPE, all bound by the shared purpose of wanting to do something.
