Between A Corona Virus Rock And A Vaccination Hard Place

Tomorrow could be my last day alive, and if that isn't a sobering thought I don't know what is. Of course, we could all say the same, I know. However I have a particular reason for making this statement.

Tomorrow I have an appointment to have my first Covid vaccination and I am not at all looking forward to it. Less so due to the fact that the Japanese news recently announced that 200 hundred citizens had passed away after having the jab. Last week I decided to check this out with my doctors at the hospital where I am under treatment for cardiovascular and pulmonary diseases as well as PMR/GCA and sleep apnea.

The first doctor I spoke to tried to encourage me to go ahead with the injection and not worry about those 200 deaths I mentioned."Those people who died were elderly citizens, people who were 65 plus years old and had pre-existing health issues like cardiovascular and pulmonary diseases." he said in a very dismissive tone of voice.

I let out a cynical laugh a moment or two before reminding him that the next day was my birthday when I would be sixty seven years old. The actual words I used were so unlike me. "I'm sixty seven tomorrow, motherfucker." I heard myself say.

The doctor continued to reassure me that I would be ok, not least of all since I am already on an anti arthritis medication called Actemera which offers some Covid protection. All Actemera does is prevent the possibility of needing to go on a ventilator should I contract the Corona Virus.

This week I spoke to my lung specialist who told me that there is less chance of me dying if I have the injection than if I don't take the needle and I get Covid.To me sounds awfully like I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. My final decision is to go and have the injection.

This is one of those life and death situations that is not entirely new to me. Last year the doctors wanted to put a very fine tube in my vein at the wrist and send it all the way up my arm into my heart with a camera to have a good look around. The only anaesthetic would be at the point of insertion in my wrist. For the whole of the following hour I would be totally conscious whilst they had a good poke around. The real killer was the pre-op bedside chat by the surgeon and his two colleagues.

The doctor presented me with a paper in Japanese, which he translated for me with his excellent English. What I was appalled to hear was that during the operation there would be a one in a thousand chance that I would suffer a minor heart attack or stroke. There would be a one in two thousand chance I would have a serious heart attack or stroke. There would be a one in a two thousand chance I would die right there on the operating table. My lovely wife, a consummate pragmatist, tried reassure me that if there is anywhere to have a fatal heart attack, the best place is in an operating theatre with a heart specialist standing by to try to save my sorry ass.

The doctor finished his little medical schpiel and asked "On that basis, are you happy to go ahead with this operation?"

"NO! I most certainly am NOT HAPPY for you to do something to me that just might kill me."

"Ok, so do you want me to cancel the operation? Because if you do that means we cannot ascertain how bad your heart and arteries are and you might also die from us doing nothing."

"Ok, go ahead doc, do what you have to do, just don't ask me if I am happy about it. Do it, just forget the happy part please."

The operation went ahead and was highly successful. It revealed that my heart although not good, was not in as bad a condition as was originally thought.

In terms of how I felt during the op, scared shitless to be honest, half expecting to die of a heart attack or stroke any moment. In the way in to the theatre I swore I could see somebody on standby with those big pads they they slap down on your chest to send thousands of volts into your heart to shock it back to life.

After a short while I suddenly had the idea to do something to calm me down, and at the same time have a little evil fun at their expense. I breathed in very deeply to slow down my heart rate. I could hear the machine beeping my heartbeat start to beep slower. The doctor stooped what he was doing and asked me if I was ok. I said yes. He then said something in Japanese to a colleague.

It crossed my mind the doctor was asking the anaesthetist "Are we losing him?" Just in case I brought my heartbeat back up. Just didn't fancy being lit up like a Christmas tree for a false alarm.

In the end, with a strict regime of medication, diet and exercise my last visit to my heart specialist I was told that my heart had significantly improved. That's one for modern medicine and the wonderful expertise of the medical team, not to mention the loving care of my lovely wife.

In the car industry there is such a thing called a 'Distress Purchase', in other words, car insurance. Nobody is happy to pay that, they are quite distressed to have to pay for it, but you have no option. It's the same thing as the medical situation. By all means sell me the benefits, just don't ask me to be happy to accept the potential or actual disadvantages. The big difference is that in the case of the car insurance, all I stand to lose is a few hundred dollars. In a hospital I could lose my life!

And so tomorrow, unhappy as I may be, I am off to some medical centre to place my life at the point of a sharp needle in the in the hands of somebody who no doubt expects me to be happy about it. I shall suggest the doctor ask me that question if and when I survive the medical assault. If it goes the other way, he will have to ask my corpse. I'll let you know, or not, in due course. Or let me put it this way, if you don't hear from me after tomorrow, I can guarantee you I will absolutely NOT be happy. In fact, I will not be, period.