When the time comes, whenever that is, I will get the COVID-19 vaccine.
Because it’s clear that the only way to subdue this pandemic is for 80 to 90 per cent of Canadians to get vaccinated. A tall order.
So I need to do my bit.
About 10 months into this real-life horror story of sickness, isolation, economic weakening, political panic and death, there’s little argument that anything but a vaccine will pull us through, battered and bruised though we may be.
We cannot stay away from each other enough, wear our masks enough, physically distance ourselves enough, wash our hands enough or obey public health directives enough to rid ourselves of this plague.
And this is just in Canada, where we’ve done better than many — but not all — nations against this pandemic.
The real COVID horror story lies south of us, in (for now) President Donald Trump’s United States of America. Every time we criticize how our officials have handled the pandemic, we need only look at the Americans and see how they have done worse.
Starting at the top, with Trump’s unconscionable indifference to the worst public health disaster in a century. The American death toll from COVID could hit 400,000 by month’s end.
Americans have also been unable, or unwilling, to follow the advice of public health officials.
Canadians cannot afford to let that happen here with vaccinations.
Which is why when the time comes, likely later this summer, I will roll up my sleeve and take that prick in my arm.
I’m not really one for getting vaccinated. I don’t get the annual flu shot, figuring a good diet, adequate exercise and seven hours of sleep a night will keep me healthy. The only vaccine I ever got was for H1N1, and that was because my then-teenaged son wouldn’t have got his shot had I begged off.
But this coronavirus is different than the annual flu or H1N1.
This doesn’t mean, however, that I’m not going to ask some questions before getting vaccinated.
By late summer, there could be a half-dozen Health Canada-approved vaccines available.
Do I need two doses or only one? How effective is the vaccine after one needle? After two? Is there enough vaccine for me to get a second dose in three weeks or a month? Or will I have to switch to another vaccine and start again?
And maybe just as importantly, how long will the vaccine last? Six months? A year? Forever?
The trouble with these questions is there aren’t answers now and there might not necessarily be answers then.
And Canadians will want to know, as they should. Some might even put off vaccination if they can’t get answers.
We’re just getting started with vaccines in this country. Front-line health-care workers are getting it, as are seniors in long-term care and nursing homes, along with those living in remote parts of this huge country.
But that’s not most Canadians, and it’s most Canadians who will be asking the above questions.
Those giving the shots had better be briefed on the type of questions they’re going to get and have answers, even if the answer is “I don’t know." Health Canada had also better have some semblance of answers on its website. Ditto for local public health officials.
It’s difficult to believe, 10 months in, that Canadians will have to be convinced to get vaccinated against this pandemic.
Make no mistake, there will be a misinformation out there about the COVID vaccines — even if it’s just on social media, spouted by hot-heads. Remember, about 74 million Americans voted for Trump in November.
Most Canadians will ask their questions and take the needle, as we should. But is it too much to ask to get answers, to the greatest extent possible, when we have practical questions? No, it isn’t.
Selling the importance of the largest mass vaccination in Canadian history could be the key to its success.
And it could begin with the right answers to some tough questions.
Bob Bruton is a staff reporter at BarrieToday who covers local politics and city council.
