Not sure if you heard, but this morning a report hit the newswire that over 40 million doses of the oink-oink vaccine costing $260 million will be incinerated. That would make one heck of a campfire. Imagine being out in the woods, with family and friends, roasting marshmallows on a stick and along with some dry twigs, you throw a couple of vaccines on the fire.
Nothing like that smoky flavor. Instead of just incinerating them, why not dole them out to all the camps across the nation and have a giant bonfires where campers and counselors could step up, breathe in the preventative smoke and soldier on without fear of getting H1N1. Probably not the safest way to get the vaccine, but it could be festive, romantic, and traditional. Of course, you’d need to think up a whole new song list…
“My Darlin’ Notbeswine”
“Comin’ (fully vaccinated) ‘Round the Mountain.”
“Grand Old Flag (especially now that we are safe from H1N1)”
“Boom piga Boom.”
“The Green smoke floated all around.”
“John Jacob Justgotvaccinated Schmidt”
It was scary. It was sudden. It was unexpected. It was a wake-up call. It got everyone to wash their hands. For some people, the outcome was tragic — but to the extent that millions of people would succumb to this supervirus — thank goodness that dire prediction was an overestimation. I am curious, however, as to how many injuries occurred in the pursuit of said vaccine. How many people rushed to get the vaccination and got into an accident? How many lost sleep? How many worked on that ulcer? How many locked their children inside and removed themselves from the world until the area was “safe?”
Happy Birthday, now wash your hands.
It was April 25th when the area of NYC experienced a sudden breakout of hotspots that detected possible swine-flu infections. Two of these spots were in our neighborhood. It was my birthday. We stayed inside and had cake. We watched a movie. I said that my biggest present would be just to let Daddy sit around and do nothing for day. What I didn’t say was “my biggest present would be for all of us to sequester ourselves indoors, duct-tape the openings around the windows and doorways, wear surgical masks, turn out the lights and just hold each other until one of us coughs…and according to the news…one of us will cough.”
Throw another syringe on the fire…
So, here it is–a big swatch of the calender infused with anxiety is going ember. Wish we could throw some other worries on the fire.
Even if, we’d still have to deal with the smoke in our eyes.