Varicella Round Up!

This year the government ordained that no child shall attend public school without the full bank of Chickenpox vaccinations on board their tiny bodies. (I will not go into a debate about this mandate here). It can be imagined that there was a great publicity push to begin getting all of these children vaccinated during the last school year. And then in the early summer. I fear that few of our busy Alaskan families heeded the call.You know, Alaskans in general do not want anyone telling them how they should be living their lives. This was more pronounced twenty years ago when we all moved up here and each person had ten acres of forest and swampland. I knew a very cute young mountain man who told me, "If you can't pee off your porch without anyone seeing, you are living too close!" I found this to be a good metaphor for our state.

I am taking it by the scene at today's en mass Varicella Shot Clinic at the Elks Lodge in town, that we, as parents, didn't want to believe that the school district and state government would actually go through with this infringement into our personal space. But...the barrage of emails and phone calls from the school let me know that indeed, Marina would not be attending school on the first day if we did not give her these shots, and so...

We started the day on a fun note...my knee is well enough to ride my new bike through the town. Falcom, Marina and I rode through town to complete ALL of our errands for the day. I love the sun and I love riding bikes with the kids, especially now that I don't have to follow behind them screaming the entire way, "Stay on the side!" or "Stop at the corner!" This day of riding was a revelation!

At 4.35 pm we headed down toward the beach through the Islands and Oceans trail, ending up at Two Sisters Bakery where we purchased a post shot treat. When we arrived at the Elks Lodge at 4.45 pm the line was out the door, through the parking lot and around the corner.

Oh yes, we knew nearly everyone in line. Irene and I, in a strange bit of uncoordination, found ourselves far enough away from each other that we could not visit. We used Falcom to play telephone. Vince was really disappointed he would not be able to attend. He just loves hearing the blistering cries of children recieving shots echoing out through the cavernous hall.

The father in line behind me and I were considering if it was worth coming to the clinic early or should we have come late? Since the entire town is going to be here and it's not really usual for Homerites to be on time...

And then it was 5. The Public Health Nurses swung the door open and we were snaking into the basement of the Elks Lodge. There were volunteers everywhere. Each one had a specific role is keeping the process rolling. In fact, not only was Edie there, but Valda had gotten pulled into it as well.

Because I am marginally organized, I only needed the shot for Marina. Because I am becoming a master of bureaucracy, or because I've spent some time in Asia, I was able to quickly fill out my forms and push my family through the maze and soon we were ahead of a few of the families who had been dutifully waiting in line since 4.30pm. (At this point I would like to mention that there were some brilliant mothers in my peer group who got together and coordinated their line holding efforts. One mother watched several of the children while another mother waited at the head of the line for probably over 30 minutes! Brilliant!)

Around us children were wailing. I turned and began photographing the en mass anxiety attack when I was stopped by the Fire Chief. He informed me that I was violating H.I.P.P.A. by photographing the scene and that if I could not stop I would be asked to leave. I complied but not until after I took this last shot. This was a big disappointment to Irene who found the "Bribe Gifts" being carried around the Round-Up to be absolutely fascinating! Toys! Candy! Promises of motorized vehicles! It must have been a spectacular sales day at Timeless Toys, that is for sure!

Marina was feeling medium anxious as she took the chair for her shot. With her temperament, this scenario is actually better for her. She was so engrossed with the crowd, the hysterical children, Falcom trying to find a song for her to sing, the overloaded sticky bun I held for us to share after she was finished, that she was actually unaware when the shot actually occurred and she looked at me and said, "It's done."

We got up, filed out the door, walked to the lawn where we shared the sticky bun, and took a seat in the lawn under the sun.

It was 5.20pm and the parking lot was empty. The rush was over. In fact, the entire clinic may as well have been over. There was the reluctant straggler trickling in, but for the most part, the entire willing slacker participant from the immediate Homer area had been inoculated by 5.30pm. (One of those reluctuant stragglers was an artist we know and when we joked that she was not here for the shot clinic, but rather to have a drink at the Elks Bar, she was unamused and did not even honor us with a glancing smile. This made me laugh even more.)

I interviewed a few of the nurses (who requested to remain nameless) and the overarching feeling they were experiencing was, "This wasn't quite the cluster*** I thought it would be."

When reflecting with fellow participants we all were amazed. It went well. It was easier than bringing our kids into an appointment at the clinic. In this instance, trying to redeem our slacker ways by arriving early did not pay off. Good Job Public Health!

And so, it looks like Marina will be returning to school on Monday after all...