#you do not understand how severely the covid vaccine fucked my body up.

[sulieykte]

I really hope you're right, because you'd be fucked otherwise.

No because all the people I know are vaccinated and were never so sick

And there are me and others, that stayed healthy and didn't even caught a cough

But stay in denial, I understand how terrifying it must be to have it in and admit it would shit, you couldnt remove it anyways 🫂

Because it wouldnt change the situation

okay i’ve seen you do this with several other people and you really need to take a damn step back and consider you know nothing about the people behind the screens.

you know nothing about my medical history, you know nothing about my immune system, the same way you know nothing about anyone else on here.

so you wouldn’t know that i have suffered with a terrible immune system for the past decade of my life and that every winter season i suffer majorly with seasonal illnesses. you wouldn’t know that i worked through covid with vulnerable people and gave up my entire life to make sure i was protecting my immunocompromised family and the people i cared for.

and i really don’t care if you or anyone else decided to do with your body, i know that i made the choice that was right for me and the people that were important to me and that’s all that matters

and as someone that went unvaccinated her whole childhood because of hateful propaganda and suffered for it, you’ve really come to the wrong account.

[reader-insert-trash]

I have a severe phobia of needles and have to get my COVID vaccine tomorrow so here’s how I think some one piece boys would react to their s/o having a panic attack over needing a shot.

Boys the cave and don’t make you get it

Ace- he knows it important but seeing you cry breaks his heart. He just can’t handle seeing you so distressed. Holds you tight telling you “it’s ok babe, you don’t have to.”

Sanji- no ones going near his Princess/prince with a needle. How dare you make (y/n)-swan cry you monster! Makes you your favorite comfort food to calm you down.

Luffy- “well why the hell do you have to get one if you don’t want to? Chopper stop scaring (y/n)!” No one can explain why you need to have a shot. He’s not going to let anyone do anything that makes you upset.

Franky- crying as soon as he sees you cry.

Eustass Kid- fucking pissed. “You coward it’s just a little needle! Damn idiot if it scares you such much just don’t do it!” Can’t emotionally process seeing you so distressed

Zoro- one little shot can’t be the important right? It’s your body if you don’t want to he won’t force you. Can’t think of any other way to get you to stop crying. He hates seeing you cry.

Buggy the clown - probably also scared of needles so he gets it.

Comforts you but makes you get it

Sabo - he hates to see you like this but your health is more important! Has you sit in his lap and holds you tight as the doctor gives you your shot. Wanna go get ice cream? You deserve some ice cream.

Ussop- he’s get it, he probably understands how you’re feeling better than anybody but your health is important. He’ll hype you up telling you how tough you are! A tiny needle is no match for the mighty (y/n)! Distracts you with stories while the doctor give you the shot. He’s so proud of you after! You’re a total badass for facing your fears!

Marco - as a doctor he knows you need to get this shot but he’s also sympathetic to his you’re feeling. Assures you that your fear is normal and it doesn’t make you weak but you do need to be brave for him.

Doffy - He wants to cave and let you have your way but protecting you and your health is more important. You’ll do it for him right? Let’s you cry and shake in his lap as the best doctor in Dressrosa gives you your shot.

Katakuri - This man is so soft but his patients can run out. You have to have this shot but it’s ok he’s right here. He’s a comforting but firm. Holds you tight and has you keep your eyes on him. His experience comforting countless little siblings shines through and he’s there to hold you after and tell you how brave you are. You’re definitely getting a treat after.

Shanks

Mihawk

Smoker

No mercy

Law - look let’s just get this over with. You have to have this shot. He doesn’t think bad of you, he’s mostly frustrated that he’s the one that has to cause you so much pain. Has Bepo hold you still so he can give you the shot. Winces when you cry out as the needle goes in your arm. Holds you while you cry it out after.

Crocodile - I can’t write crocodile but he’s a no bullshit kind of man so.

[pixiedoodlein]

I’m so fucking mad that a year and a half into this pandemic I am back to 11th hour debating another year of homeschool. The first stretch of homeschool, in NYC, when the toddler was a baby, and husband was home on unemployment, was good, nice even, a quiet piece of something good when the world outside was falling apart. The next stretch, the Oklahoma stretch, with a particularly climby toddler, husband working 10 hour days, me doing remote contract work, somewhere we had no family around to help w/ childcare, was challenging. I was not always my best self. Some days were delightful, muffins and math games. Other days I was more Miss Trunchbull than Miss Honey, fractions were squeezed in between crying (usually mine) and netflix (way too much of hers), and I held on to any shred of sanity by telling myself “just a little longer, just until the vaccines.”

Well here we are. Husband & I have been vaccinated for months, but the kids aren’t yet. The upstate NY town we moved to is a very small town (pop: 838), was mostly untouched by previous waves. When we got here, I couldn’t understand why everyone was so lax about it- no masks, no panic. Our first day here, when I came home from the market and saw through the window a gaggle of unmasked kids in my living room (the neighbors coming to welcome us, they heard a kid moved in) I almost had a heart attack. In fact, I was so tired from the drive from OKC that for a moment I actually thought I was at the wrong house, that I was hallucinating, because how in the world could there be unmasked bodies in my living room.

Then I started talking to people here. And I realized that the way I thought they were insane for not being deathly afraid of covid, they thought I was insane for being petrified. Because the disease hadn’t hit here; their businesses were destroyed and their kids were out of school (in a rural area with barely functional internet, remote school = a lost year) and their lives were totally fucked up, for a disease that never arrived at their doorstep. I came to understand why they weren’t worried, why here life looked (almost) normal. I told them about what it was like to live somewhere covid tore through, the freezer trucks of bodies on the FDR Drive and my previously healthy 27yld brother so sick with it the first spring he thought he was about to die (but too scared to go to a hospital), my dad’s relative in the next NYC wave on a vent for months and lucky to be alive but may never walk again, the doctors in OKC pleading on the news to please wear a fucking mask because the hospitals were fucking full, and the neighbors stopped thinking I was psycho when I carried extra masks for their kids, and made them put them on, when I took them to town for ice cream. I never stopped masking. But we did indoor dine here (once, BBQ, it wasn’t delicious enough for how anxious I felt) and I did bring all the kids, including my toddler, to a fairly crowded children’s museum in the big (small) city an hour away, where the rest of us were masked but the one with his hands in his mouth, who was all up in other kids’ faces, the one who really should be masked, wasn’t because he won’t leave it on for more than a minute.

Actually it’s a lie to say that I never stopped masking- I have dashed into little stores here, without one, because I’m vaxed! It’s safe here! Covid felt done. We had friends come here to visit this summer. Friends who are vaxed, but that doesn’t seem to really matter enough anymore. We had the neighbors over for meals, indoors (you see, more indoor dining! A minute ago I was just thinking restaurants, but why would plagues only spread in restaurants?). They had us for meals. The girls are a crew, new best friends, making my daughter’s life here so, so much happier, constant sleepovers (their kids were at our house this afternoon; my kid is at their house right now). The parents and grandparents are wonderful, making my life here, and husband’s life here, so much easier, so much better. We help them with stuff, they help us with stuff, there isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t see each other, unmasked. Some of the adults in their household are vaxed; some of the adults in their household are not. The kids are all too young to be vaxed. But it (living, doing shit again, seeing people again) really stopped feeling scary; it really felt like everything was fine, normal-ish, normal-er. The end of the pandemic felt in sight.

I signed my child up for school here. Real school, not mommy school, school with a school bus. She was a little anxious, I had to talk her into it, I sold it hard, I bought her whatever pair of new sneakers she wanted for her new school (she hasn’t had gym class in a year and a half; for a phase in Oklahoma she wore one boot and one sandal every day, why not). She wasn’t anxious about sneakers or covid; she was anxious that maybe she hadn’t learned enough in homeschool (I am not a teacher! I did not homeschool because I am good at it or love it or wanted to, I homeschooled because I was scared of her getting covid at school and dying), that she would be behind. She isn’t behind. I followed the real school curriculum as best I could (as in: sometimes totally and sometimes not at all), and somehow, when I gave her the standardized “real school” test “at the end of the year” (aka the day I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to focus on my work or I wasn’t going to have an income, the day I’d decided we’d done as much as we could and it was time to be done), she sailed through it, this kid is smart. Smart as in needs to be in actual real fucking school to stay smart and learn and reach her potential.

She got excited- one of the neighbor kids is in her grade. The other kid is older- but the school is small, she’d see her tons. She was excited; I was excited. I registered her for school. Her new teacher sent a nice note. We all were excited. She’s never taken the school bus before but the neighbors take it and she’d be fine on the bus with her besties, the bus would pick her up in front of their house since there’s nowhere to turn around up our hill (we are VERY rural), they’d all get on and off the bus together. She has been backpack shopping. We have been discussing what she’ll have for breakfast (honey nut Cheerios), what she wants me to pack for lunch (she says just Goldfish, I say turkey sandwich, we’re working on it).

But now, 18 days before school starts here, I am thisclose to pulling her out, to embarking on another lovely (not), gratifying (not) year of homeschool, because of covid, delta. When we got to our new home in our new tiny town in June, there was no covid here. Now, our county is listed by the CDC as a high transmission area (is there anywhere in the US that isn’t?). 80% of senior citizens here are vaxed; 50% of the total population is, well below the national average. 15 cases per 100,000, in a county of 100,000. I guess this is less rampant than our previous pandemic locales, NYC (currently 25/100K), OKC (49/100K). This is splitting hairs, everywhere is bad. This is what panic does to me: are we better or worse for every decision we’ve made in the past year and a half, every decision that got us here? There are fewer cases here but fewer people and fewer vaccinated people and fewer ICU beds. We aren’t safe even here, but at least we are happy (happy aside from fear of delta death).

I don’t know whether to send my kid to school in 18 days. There will be masks but masks aren’t enough (how many masks do I make her wear? two, ten, a thousand?). This choice feels crazy— in March 2020, when that covid was mostly sparing kids, I yanked her out of school. Now, this covid does hurt kids. How much longer, how many more years, can parents be in this position to make this nightmare choice? What will hurt her more: school or no school? There are vaccines, more than enough in America. We shouldn’t be having to make this choice.

As it is, because of toddler— not because of toddler, because of being a parent to children in a pandemic— my work life, and husband’s, will be severely impacted this year, again. I can’t send him to daycare because he’s too little to leave a mask on (he won’t even leave his pants on!) in a room full of other unmasked toddlers, whose families may or may not be vaxd, may or may not wear masks (there has been a noticeable increase in supermarket mask wearing since we got here, but still not enough, is any of it enough?), may or may not be going to parties and weddings and funerals, daycare providers who may or may not be doing all the same. This means I can only apply to remote jobs, so I can be home with him. Husband has some flexibility, more than he did in OKC, but god forbid he has to work while I have a work call or meeting or work due I didn’t manage to get done at 4am or 11pm when the house is quiet. He can’t bring toddler to work with him, his work is up on scaffold, stenciling ceilings. This will be another year of me muting myself on Zooms while toddler pulls his diaper off and hurls poop at the cat. Would it really be so much harder to also be trying to teach parts of speech to our daughter at the same time? Yes, it would, but I don’t know if I can send my kids back out into the world until they’re vaccinated. I am counting the days, holding my breath, until they can be.

I used to believe in personal choice. I don’t anymore. I want this shit to be mandated, I want the government to line us up and force mRNA into holdouts’ arms, I want it to be required, to be able to function in and interact with and benefit from society in any way, shape, or form. I have been very lucky in the pandemic. Privilege stacked on privilege on privilege, to be fussing over my Zooms in my hamlet. I had been pretty pandemic perky, baking my pies and playing with my pandemic pets and (thinking about) doing puzzles, but I’ve reached my breaking point. This shit could be done, but it’s not, and I’m scared it never will be.

[pinkpastels113]

Give Me a Shot

In light of me recently getting my covid shot and @wolvezzz joining us on Tumblr, here’s a little Bechloe one-shot for you all…

(I had to basically rewrite this due to some stupid mistakes I discovered halfway through in the middle of the night, so I am so sorry if some parts do not seem to add up or are too unrealistic. **I tried**)

(Also, let us just assume that the guy that Stacie is talking about is quarantined with his sister, aka no covid.)

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,571

Pairing: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell

Summary: In which Beca is supposed to get a Covid shot but instead got a dose of something far more nerve-wracking.

End B/C if you squint. One-shot. Fluff? Covid AU.

On ao3 or ff.net or here...

(I have no idea what to put as an excerpt so here we go...)

Beca hands over the clipboard to the lady at the desk and smiles tightly behind her mask in thanks as she receives a post-it note in return. 

“Put this on the chair you’re going to sit in and come back to it once you’re done receiving the shot for the fifteen minute observatory period,” the lady says, bored but polite as she recites the practiced line Beca heard her give to several people before her. 

“Cool. Thanks.” Beca plays with the sticky part of the post-it note in her hands as she walks over to plop down into the plastic chair next to Stacie. 

“I hope we don’t have to wait as long as Amy did when she got her shot last week,” her friend says, rubbing her own post-it note onto the arm of her chair and crossing her legs as she leans back. 

“Fuck yeah. Me too. Amy’s took at least two hours.” Beca copies the taller brunette’s actions and sighs as she tilts her head back, blinking leisurely up at the ceiling. 

Stacie groans. “I will punch someone if we have to wait that long; I’m already hungry as it is.”

Beca snorts, despite being ninety percent sure that her hangry friend will do just that, “Why didn’t you get something to eat sooner?”

Green eyes flit to the side to look at her, “Boy from last night didn’t understand the definition of a one-night stand.”

Of course. Beca rolls her eyes and laughs, the sound muffled behind the piece of fabric covering her mouth, her chest quivering with mirth at the prospect of a guy refusing to accept that his “lucky shot” with her friend was over, “Seriously?”

“Yep.” The mask on Stacie’s face moves in a way that’s a telling of her pursing her lips, her gaze following her hand as fingers trace the unmarked portion of the arm of the chair her wrist is lying on, “He wouldn’t leave even when I told him that I had to go and get myself some breakfast with my mom before meeting with you to get my Covid-19 vaccine, even going as far as to offer to be my personal chauffeur.”

Beca lowers her head from the back of her chair and raises her eyebrows, “Wow. That’s like, a serious guy looking for a serious relationship, dude. Are you sure your friend would be okay with this?”

Stacie had informed her the night before that the brother of one of her most trusted friends would be staying the night with her doing some...choice activities.

“Yeah,” the brunette wrinkles her nose, “I had made sure that both her and her brother knew that I don’t do relationships.” She then brightens, as if suddenly remembering a thought, “Oh, he texted me too.” Stacie turns around and rifles in her purse for her phone, humming in her mouth as she pushes aside the keys and tampons within, and lets out a small noise of triumph as she whips out her device, “Aha.”

Beca chuckles at the scene but leans forward nonetheless, eager to spend the time waiting for her covid vaccine in doing something else besides counting the water spots on the ceiling tiles above her head, “What did he say?”

Stacie unlocks her phone, bouncing slightly in her seat in suppressed excitement as she goes to tap into her messages, “Look.”

Beca doesn’t think she has ever seen anything more desperate and pathetic in her life than the digital text glaring into her face, “Oh my god, he wants to know where you are at and wonders if he can take you out to dinner? Dude.”

Even through the mask Beca can tell that a sly and catlike grin had unfurled across her friend’s lips, followed by a mischievous wink, “Right? I don’t think I’ve ever had someone this desperate for another round right after the one the night before.” She then cocks her head, adding the next words almost as if it’s an afterthought, “And the one the early morning after.”

Beca shakes her head in disbelief, eyes scanning the multitude of text messages subsequent to the one she had just read aloud, “Maybe he just wants to see if last night and early this morning was a fluke.”

Stacie gasps in mock offense, yanking her cellular device away from Beca’s face, “How dare you, Mitchell. The Hunter is never a fluke.”

Beca just shrugs her shoulders in response, shifting her legs to accommodate the position for her to palm her chin.

She blinks innocently up at her.

Stacie narrows her eyes.

“Stacie Conrad?”

Both brunettes whirl around at the mention of the name, Beca taking in the blonde hair and blue scrubs standing at the entrance to the hallway of doctor offices hidden from view, and she sighs as Stacie grins and jumps up, practically skipping over to the woman holding a pen to another wooden clipboard in her hands.

They disappear from sight and Beca turns back around, pouting slightly as she waits for her turn, the foot that isn’t hanging uselessly in the air tapping impatiently on the floor beneath her chair. Just as she is about to delve into a full on sulk, a melodic voice chirps her name.

“Rebeca Mitchell?”

Fiery red hair and bright blue eyes meet her gaze, and Beca’s mouth goes dry as the woman waves cheerily at her, her entire body freezing in her seat as the organ in her chest decidedly unfreezes, and it is not until the cerulean pools has vanished into a blink that she has realized that she has stared too long and should probably get her ass up and over there.

Beca swallows and nods, and almost trips over her feet in the act of standing up without first uncrossing her legs. Blushing furiously and praying that nobody in the vicinity has noticed besides her awkward and idiotic self, she tugs at the hem of her blouse and quickly makes her way over.

“Hi,” the redhead greets, the smile lines on her cheeks creasing prettily as she crosses out her name with a ballpoint pen, “Rebeca Mitchell?”

“Beca,” she says, automatic in her response to the correction of the name that she has loathed since birth, “It’s Beca.”

She looks up at her, and Beca wants to slap herself in her haste to blurt out the two liner that she usually only reserves for people with whom she wants to be casual with, “Beca.”

Her fingers twitch at the way her name sounds rolling through the air in that sweet melodic tune, and she suddenly wants to find out how it sounds like rolling off her tongue, clear and without the obstacles of the stupid masks blocking its way.

Before she could do much more than tip her chin in acknowledgement, the redhead has twirled around in a flurry of red and blue, and Beca is dutifully following her down the hallway into the office attached at the very end. 

At the gesture for her to sit on the stool in front of the wall, Beca sat, and promptly stares as the redhead sets the clipboard on the table before reaching for a pair of new latex gloves, watching the way she snaps them on and pulls a card out of her scrub pocket, drinking in the sight of her tilting her head as she flourishes her pen over the newly revealed card. 

She is so fucking gorgeous.

Beca wishes that she is not in the middle of a fucking pandemic.

“So is that with one C or two C’s?” Her question snaps her out of her daze and Beca has to reluctantly pull her gaze away from the smooth expanse of her neck.

“Oh, um,” she gulps to lubricate her throat, sitting up taller to properly project her voice, hoping upon hope that the louder volume will drown out its slight tremble, “It’s actually Rebeca on paper. With one C.”

An inconspicuous murmur floats into her ears, and if Beca hadn’t known any better, she would’ve described it being accompanied with a teasing smile, “I see.”

Her heart pounds in her chest and it’s a big struggle to refrain from squirming in her stool.

The redhead finishes writing on the card and sets that and the pen aside, before slowly making her way towards her. Beca’s eyes stay determinedly on her face—or more accurately, on what she could make of it—her nerves growing more jittery and jumpy by the second, and she finds herself holding her breath as the redhead comes to a stop, feet away. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek as a gloved hand picks up a small package and tears at the seams, taking out an alcohol wipe and shaking it out, before placing the empty pieces of said package back onto the paper on the exam table from which it came from.

Sneakers step forward and then red hair and blue eyes are inches closer.

“Roll your sleeve up for me, please?” Her voice lilts at the end, Beca’s heart instantly mimicking the gesture, and she fumbles with the sleeve of her blouse on her left arm to comply. 

The redhead leans forward to rub at the uncovered skin with the cold wipe, causing shivers to emanate from the affected area and spread through and around every nerve ending in her entire upper body, and Beca has to clench her hand into a tight fist to hold herself still.

“Relax,” she says, not moving away even as she sets aside the used wipe as well, removing the cap from the needle from which contained the Covid vaccine. “You need to relax, Becs; the muscle will sore if you don’t.”

Beca’s gaze snaps up, sure that the redhead had just uttered a nickname of her already shortened name, but apart from the fact that her blue eyes seemed to twinkle even brighter—a fact that Beca stubbornly gives credit to the fluorescent light from overhead, in addition to their sudden close proximity—her expression betrays nothing.

She heeds the request and unclenches her fist, and as the prickling feeling signalling the intrusion of the vaccine starts from her arm, a glare on the breast pocket of the redhead’s scrubs catches her eye.

Dr. Chloe Beale.

Huh.

Beca grins, elated at the realization that she had just found out the name of the gorgeous woman standing before her.

She sends up a mental thank you to whoever had the intelligence and generosity of coming up with the invention of name tags. 

The prickling sensation resides, and Beca looks over to see that Chloe is done delivering the shot. She makes to lower the sleeve of her blouse, but a gloved hand brushing against her sensitive skin stops her.

“Hold on, I need to give you a Band-Aid.” Despite the blue latex covering her fingertips, Beca can still feel the warmth and tenderness of Chloe’s touch. 

Beca nods, dumbly, as Chloe quickly peels off the ends of the Band-Aid and pastes it carefully over the reddening spot. Gloved hands linger, taking the time to rub out every last inch of the two ends of the patch, fingers wrapping lightly against the circumference of her upper arm, and Beca stares with bated breath, suddenly afraid to look at any place else.

She is glad that she is in the middle of a fucking pandemic.

“There.” It is a soft puff of a sound, and if Beca hadn’t already been so close to her face, hadn’t already been close enough to wish that she had the ability to rip off her mask and smell her undoubtedly sweet and floral perfume, she wouldn’t have heard it. “You’re all set.”

Chloe finally steps away, and Beca wishes that she hadn’t spun around so fast because she is pretty sure that she had just sent her a wink. 

“So, here’s the card that I have filled out for you, and it’s really important that you bring it back when you return for your second dose,” the card that Chloe had written on earlier is handed over, covered in beautiful, curling black ink, “And you should receive a text in the next hour or so telling you when that second dose is going to be.”

“From you?” The words had left Beca’s mouth without her notice or permission, and it was not until an auburn eyebrow had risen into the air in amusement that Beca had realized what she had said.

“Fuck.” 

She covers her face in her hands, only to be embarrassed even further when the evidence of her forgotten boundary scrapes against her palms. She settles for letting out a groan and closing her eyes, laying her elbows onto her thighs and hanging her head in a full manifestation of her humiliation. 

Her body feels like it’s on fire and Beca wants the goddamn ground to open up and swallow her whole. 

Chloe giggles. “Not from me, silly. From the Department of Health of the state.”

Beca is positive that had she whipped her head up any faster, her neck would’ve snapped. Chloe’s laugh is like a drug. “Yeah, sorry. That was not supposed to come out of my mouth.”

Now that is definitely a wink. “What was supposed to come out then?”

Her jaw slackens, and if Fat Amy was there in the room with her, she would’ve made fun of her for looking like a fish. The heat in her cheeks burn hotter and Beca hastily shakes her head, hopping off from the stool, grateful that she had managed not to trip like the time before. The hard cardstock digs into her lines of her palm of her right hand further with each pulse against the side of her neck, and Beca wills her feet to power walk to the exit of the suffocating room lest she makes even more of a complete and awkward idiot out of herself in front of Dr. Chloe Beale.

Fingers tug on her wrist, and then something small is slapped onto her card. “Here,” Chloe looks like she’s chewing on her lip, “You forgot your sticker.”

Confusion furrows her brows, but something in her hisses at her to not to say a word, especially when sparkling blue eyes dart down the hall agitatedly as if its owner knows that she is doing something she’s not supposed to and if she is caught, she is going to be in major trouble.

There seems to not be enough air in the world for her to suck in, and Beca clutches both the sticker and card tightly against the space between her breasts and speeds down the hallway, her converse squeaking against the floor as she spins to beeline the rest of her way into her yellow post-it noted designated chair.

Stacie looks up from her phone from which 14:39 flashes across her screen and moves her foot out of her way so Beca can sit down, “So? How’d it go?”

Beca finally unleashes the death like grip of her hands, the side effect of her recent dose of something far from a vaccination of a worldwide virus causing her temperature to spike and her body to hyperventilate when ten beautifully, flirtatiously, unabashedly, confidently written digits wink at her from the back of the tiny sticker. “Like how it’s supposed to. I got a shot.”

I think this is gonna be my one and only covid related fanfic; it was absolutely exhausting to write, and I am still 98% sure that I haven’t fixed all the mistakes… XD.

[comicalsansa]

I just need to scream into the void for a minute, feel free to ignore this or whatever. Sorry for the lack of break, I can't figure out how to do it on mobile.

Y'ALL LIFTED THE MASK MANDATES AND EXPECTED UNVACCINATED PEOPLE TO CONTINUE WEARING MASKS ON THE HONOR SYSTEM WHAT THE FUCK DID Y'ALL EXPECT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?!

Come on, did anyone actually expect the portion of America that has been protesting masks and downplaying the severity of Covid to a) get vaccinated and b) continue wearing a mask off they didn't? Like, with how stupidly politicized (and I do mean stupid) everything with the pandemic has been, how the fuck does anyone have the nerve to be surprised at the fact that the hospitals are filling up?

People aren't vaccinated, and they aren't wearing masking, of course the new variant is going to spread like wildfire. None of the kids are vaccinated (because we need to make sure their immune systems can handle it, there's a reason why the usual vaccines are on a schedule), and people don't make their kids wear masks.

There are literally people protesting mask mandates for the schools in my state. What the fuck. Have they already forgotten how fast illness spreads in schools? Fuck, there've been times an individual school or two has shit down because so many people (kids and adults) got the flu, or norovirus. And this shit spreads even faster. Why on god's green earth would you want your kids to not wear a mask?

Like, I get that wearing a mask is really uncomfortable and makes communication difficult. The precautions that we have to take are absolutely fucking up an entire generation.

You know what else will fuck up an entire generation? Dying. Long term effects from a serious respiratory disease. Watching their family members die; rather, watching their family members go into the hospital and never come out because they aren't allowed vistors.

Given the choice between the two flavors of trauma, I would much rather keep the kids alive and uninfected.

We are learning as we go about all of this, that's why the information keeps changing. That's how science works. Numerous studies have shown long term effects in kids already, so while it may not be as serious (oh wait, the new variant is), who knows what effects this will have on them in 20-30 years?

You know what else had serious long term effects? Fucking polio. You know why we don't have polio in the US now? Because everyone had to be vaccinated against it for decades. Fuck, they were still vaccinating against it in the 80s, I know because I remember getting a tiny cup with a swallow of liquid for one of my vaccines as a kid.

You know what else has serious long term effects? Chickenpox. And I know older people will be like, "BS, I had chickenpox and I'm fine," or, "My parents took me to a chickenpox party to make sure I got it, and I'm fine." Yeah, you ever hear of shingles? You know why you need a shingles vaccine? Because you had chickenpox. That's right, if you never had chickenpox you can't get shingles.

Point is, who the fuck knows what this is going to be doing to survivors 20-30 years down the road and if you gave a shit about your kid, you wouldn't want them to get it.

And I'm so pissed off because you know what? I fucking hate wearing a mask, too. I hate it. I don't care what the nurses with pulse oximeters say, I cannot breath as well with two layers of fabric covering my face, especially not for hours at a time (fun fact, pulse oximeters are not an accurate indicator of whether or not you can breathe as it takes time for an oxygen shortage to hit your blood--i know this from experience as an asthmatic). Everyone covering their faces and the plexiglass and paranoia and shit has been driving me nuts, I can't fucking live like this either. That's why I wore masks and got vaccinated as soon as I could, because the ONLY way this stops is with vaccines. And yeah, we're going to need boosters, we were always going to need booster shots, almost every vaccine we have requires more than one dose. And we had a period of time where cases were hella low and if you were vaccinated you didn't have to wear a mask and it was so great!

But some of you dumbfucks didn't want to get the vaccine because a) you didn't think Covid was a big deal b) it's made from aborted babies (I want to punch you if this is your objection) c) the vaccine is too new, they rushed it (it was in the works since SARS and they tweaked it, also the flu shot is new every year, your point?) d) it's the mark of the beast! (If you believe this or spread it please exit the gene pool) or e) we don't know what's in it! (This and a especially bothers me from hospital workers, who are required to get an annual flu shot).

There is exactly one valid reason to not get the damned vaccine and that is if your immune system can't handle it. So if you have a serious health condition that weakens your immune system or you're allergic to a vaccine component, you are absolutely off the hook, and none of this is directed at you. You're one of the ones who needs the rest of us to do our part to survive this, and I am so sorry.

And people keep screaming about my freedom! Look bitch, your freedom ends when it impinges on mine, and you are sorely impinging right now. You have the freedom to do what you want with your body, but not with other peoples. If you want to get Covid, fine. But you do not have the right to spread it, which is what is going to happen if you get it. Vaccinations used to be mandatory. You still need to get vaccinations if you travel to certain countries. If you join the military you are going to get injected with every vaccine we know of and probably a few we don't. Vaccines are one of the things that make modern life possible.

I understand being skeptical, I mean, I would've preferred a bit more time and more studies before getting vaccinated. But I did it anyway because:

Widespread vaccination is the only way we get out of this.

The alternative is over crowded hospitals (which is starting to happen again) and just accepting people dying. Sure, death is part of life, but this is needless and overtaxing already broken systems.

If you have not gotten your vaccine and have no medical reason not to, you are part of the problem. You are the asshole on the zombie movie who gets bitten and hides it until it's too late and you become a threat to the rest of the party.

Stop being a dumbass and do something for other people for once in your miserable life.

I am tired of wearing masks. I am tired of all the pandemic protocols. I have done everything I can do, as have many others. But it's not enough. Everyone has to do their part.

If you want this to be over, instead of protesting, get vaccinated, it's a hell of a lot more useful.

[juuls]

Pharmacist/Me = 1 🏆 Doctor/Nursing Staff = 0

Thank you in advance for reading this rant. I’ve been really frustrated and just needed to get this off my chest, and today at least I had a wonderful knight in a white lab coat. 🩺❤️‍🩹🥽🥼💪🏻

Content warnings and squicky squicks: (further down there is) an image of a medical vial with a clipped image of a more benign part of a syringe, health conditions (endometriosis, fibromyalgia), menstrual cycles and associated terms such as bleeding and other things, lack of empathy in my specific healthcare system, hysterectomies, pain, swearing and losing patience. Most important warning: self-administered syringes and injection discussions of legal medications (Depo-Provera) approved of by professionals and properly researched. P.S. this may sound rather Karen-like but I would never do this to someone’s face. Online ranting and acknowledging where I could do better is not the same as screaming in public for bossy requests or comps, etc. Ew.

Another ‘warning’… pharmacists being kick-ass allies and giving a damn about their patients.

I’m really annoyed because (and I know healthcare and scheduling is a clusterfuck right now, but…) for over a month now I’ve been trying to get an appointment in person to get this injectable medication that is, yes, birth control, but is also used for endometriosis in my case. And I have severe endometriosis (exacerbated severely by fibromyalgia, siiiiigh) to the point I bleed enough and lose so much I have to go to the hospital when my care is not properly preventative… like in this case, and the pain is unbelievably severe also to the point I’ve spent time in the hospital, including my 11th Christmas Eve and Day. I started this injectable medication at 13 because it was the only thing that came close to helping reduce my endometrial tissue. Even a hysterectomy wouldn’t help as much, unless they decided to go the super invasive route and remove all the organs (or parts of them) that had become ‘infected’ by the tissue. Again, tissue where it’s not supposed to be, and it causes extreme pain as the tissue tries to flush out of my body each period, even if it’s attached to, like, my pancreas. Just no. That does not work at all. No. That is not fun.

SO. I’m 31, nearing 32, and the doctor’s office knows this. I’ve had the same doctor since I was 10. Been on this medication nearly non-stop for just shy of two decades (with appropriate precautions such as bone density tests) because of the absolute severity of the pain and my inability to function when it hits… which can be months at a time of non-stop bleeding and morning sickness-level nausea and vomiting, migraines and the occasional complete inability to move—in other words, it’s debilitating.

My doctor (even the nurses, as it’s in large print at the top of my file in the system) knows all about this. They’re supposed to call me if I’m overdue by a certain margin (I get they’re busy but months and months???). But my doc’s also a bit of an airhead (albeit a smart one when he focuses) and takes forever to reply to anything on time, even when it’s a severe issue, but not severe enough to go to the hospital. But it’s gotten to the point where the nurses say to go to the ER and then the ER nurses and doctors there get SUPER pissed off (AT ME AND SOMEHOW NOT AT MY DOCTOR/NURSES AND THEIR ORDERS) at the ‘waste of time’, and it’s just a clusterfuck.

Oh yeah, and that ER visit while I was overdue for my injection? Internal intestinal bleeding along with a lovely, even if small, perforation in my fucking uterus from the growth of endometrial tissue. I MEAN COME ON — WHAT IN THE HELL. Totally preventable if they fit me in when I called literally over a month ago.

But I will not change my doctor (the other docs at the practice know what is going on and have offered to take me on, but they don’t have the experience with myself and my conditions or the history, but they can do little else because of professional conduct—it’s between myself and my doc) because he is the only one who treats me with humanity and understands fibromyalgia, endometriosis, pre-MS and pre-RhA/PsA, endo-related IBS, (ulcerative) colitis, and other neurological conditions with any degree of empathy. (See, I told you I’m a mess!) There is no way I’m switching offices in the perpetual shortage of doctors in Canada moving elsewhere for m o n e y (plus Covid-19 being a teen hooligan and constantly coming back to wreck more goddamn shit, including everyone’s sanity, then setting things on fire like the real hooligans in my village have been doing this summer — I mean… what in the hell!?!?), so with all that in mind I actually thank my lucky stars. So I put up with a lot of this shit because he treats me, besides him being an airhead, like an actual human being deserving of compassion and care and quality of life despite my severe disabilities and pain. So.

I’m usually treated really well (even if they often think I’m a nuisance for daring to be severely chronically ill/in pain all the time) so I try to be patient and good and understanding when I can.

But his STAFF (I know they’re busy and I’ve been patient but they’ve been so awful honestly to the point I cried hard enough my dad noticed my red eyes and frustration-tear fracks on my face)! And the doc himself’s inability to reply to notes on time even when urgent and when he knows the circumstances (I admit I am a bit of a hard patient so I can understand if he just kinda ignores me sometimes, honestly). But in this case I was THREE DAMN MONTHS LATE for my injection and they’ve always called in the past when I was coming due if it looked like I hadn’t scheduled an injection, so that I was all on time and squared away and didn’t risk severe pain and damage to my already-fucked hormonal system (learning I couldn’t have kids was absolutely heartbreaking, let me tell you, but even a hysterectomy in that case would solve nothing — this is by far the easiest option, especially considering how my fibromyalgia would fuck with my post-surgery recovery and leave me with lasting pain for years if not decades; sigh).

Anyway. So. After some ridiculous levels of back and forth and some truly remarkable levels of lack of compassion (she kept giving me the exact same, word for word response in a bored tone UGH) considering the severe pain I was in (I was told, in front of OTHER PATIENTS AND STAFF, that I could just wait until I talk to the doctor myself at my next phone appointment and then schedule my injection for my next MONTHLY followup — 4.5 months overdue at that point, it would’ve been — because, and I quote, ‘am used to dealing with pain because of my fibromyalgia and years of dealing with it and other conditions’ which they named in front of others!!!!!!!! what. the. fuck. But I kept my cool because I know all these people, my mom taught their kids music, they’re a fixture of the community, etc. and I refuse to be a Karen…. At least externally.

But here comes the nice part that makes me love our new (okay, he’s been here like 5 years but still, in a small town that’s pretty new lmao) pharmacist that much more. Rasik was aware of my frustration with the doctor and nurses and was even the one who brought to my attention that, at the time, I was 2 months late for my injection and he was a bit concerned since he’s privy to how much pain I exist in without throwing in one or more knives directly into my womb, ovaries, tummy, hips, and other areas my endometrial tissue has taken root. He’s such a sweetheart and he really does care for his patients— the work he does with my father’s diabetes (the tricky one where you’re not obese) management is above and beyond the call of a pharmacist and I will forever be grateful for that alone, never mind how he cares for me.

So I went in today to pick up another medication, after yet another frustrating stop-over at the nurses’ desks, and he suggested I ask for my injectable medication (it’s Depo-Provera, by the way) and the syringe plus the two tips necessary — I’m actually familiar with this since I had to learn epinephrine injections from an early age (not Epipen) and how to give testosterone daily to my ex-husband (sorry not sorry, dude, but congrats on your first kid *grouchy thumbs up*). But yeah! Legally he’s not allowed to suggest I give it to myself, but he was getting super fed up with the nurses and doctors dragging their feet and ‘being assholes with little empathy’ in his own words, so I took the hint and requested my vial plus syringe, as well as the drawing and injection gauge needles…. which he gleefully filled for me, and I reiterated that it was ‘fully my idea, not yours, Rasik, because everyone knows I’m dumb and would never think it’s you if something happened’ (I’m not dumb and I’ve given injections to others many times looool).

Long story short: HERE’S TO PHARMACISTS AROUND THE WORLD, BEING AMAZING AND CARING FOR THEIR PATIENTS AND ‘BENDING BUT NOT REALLY BENDING’ THE RULES TO MAKE SURE THEIR CLIENTS ARE CARED FOR PROPERLY. They are amazing and deserve every last bit of your courtesy, especially when they pull double duty every. single. day. because of Covid and their subsequent boosters. (i.e. boosters in the form of humans who are fucking stupid if they have no medical reason not to get the vaccine… I mean JFC.)

Rasik? You are amazing and I am 100% going to find you some Indian-Canadian (or North Indian; I believe that’s where he’s from originally) treats or desserts or make some myself after slyly asking his assistant what he leans toward liking.

Be kind to one another, yeah, but… my goodness: be kind to those who can truly make a difference in your health, sanity, and even life or death.

Pharmacists, volunteers, and frontline health workers: the true heroes of these times.

Thank you so much. So very much.

💜💙🇨🇦👨🏽‍⚕️❤️‍🩹🙏🏻

P.S. … now I just gotta stab myself intramuscularly after making sure there’s no air bubbles and etc., and swap out to the proper gauge needle (different, smaller, to draw from the vial, larger to inject so that it goes in more quickly and, oddly enough, hurts less haha). I don’t think air bubbles are as much of an issue as when injecting intravenously (ummm I have a doctor uncle and grandma nurse and nurse friends, so shush 😆). But I’ve done this for others and animals so I should be good! :)

I’m a smart enough cookie even if I’ve lost a few nibble-size pieces around the edges. 😉😘 buahaha

Cheers to my pharmacist!!!! You are amazing and I can’t wait for the pain and months and months of bleeding to settle down.

Remind me again why humans are the only mammals (animals?) with monthly fluxes? UGH wtf ever. 🙃

[sera-cb]

My vaccine experience has been terrible and stressful and it’s put me in a really weird spot where I 100% believe everyone should get this thing if they’re at all able, but also am terrified to try again myself. Which I have to do, it turns out! Because even with this capitalism’s efforts to do things cheaply and as automated as possible has just absolutely fucked me apparently.

Like first off, I have a day job five days a week and every other weekend I am scheduled to do art streams, one for backers and one for comms, which both are typically needed to make ends meet.  Work won’t pay me to miss time for side effects, and I’m finding it very difficult to do these big-ass seven hour streams two weekends in a row on top of my usual work weeks, so finding the right time to get the first dose was a nightmare, but also

that nightmare began with like an hour wait inside of a Walgreens to see if the last appointment would show up or not, because “walk-ins open” is sort of only half true I guess, but largely because if they just gave it to me they’d need to open a new set of the things and they’d all go bad for my sake and that sucks.  Fine, I get it, but the dude didn’t show so they scheduled me for the next day.

Then, as I was walking away, the dude shows up, and the guy flags me down and goes “hey let’s do it now after all.”  Rad, I thought. Progress.

Another hour waiting in Walgreens.

I finally get the shot. She hands me some papers. I need to wait around for 15 minutes to be observed, they said. Alright, fine. I read the papers while I wait; the side effects of the shot possibly killing you are basically 1:1 with what happens to me during a panic attack. I’ve developed this weird history with needles where I get panic attacks or something adjacent with some weird and mildly random delay after getting any kind of shot.  Now I’m thinking about that and the room is spinning. I call my wife hoping she’ll talk me down. I get about two sentences into that call before I wake up to my phone ringing on the floor.  Nobody on staff notices.

Three hours after getting there, I hobble out of Walgreens. I’m basically wiped out for three days - even without the shot, the weird lightheaded shit I get from these pass-out sessions does some vile stuff to the rest of my body that lingers for a day or two sometimes.

I was advised that since I got the shot day-of after all I’d need to reschedule my appointment, though, and this led to problems.  Walgreen’s vaccine setup only does appointments in pairs; if you missed the first, you won’t get the second, and there was to our knowledge no way to do just the second, especially via their robo phone tree. Kaz deals with Walgreens all the time for her meds, so she knows how to get through the phone tree - it’s by being so hostile that I feel bad for the robot, for the record - but when asking if we could schedule just a second shot either they hung up on us or the line went dead.

I said “screw it, I’ll just show up in a few weeks,” but then I just never did, because I didn’t have a hard deadline to my knowledge and I was quite stressed out from the whole experience, but it turns out that the day I finally worked up the will to get the second dose? Where I had people willing to be there for me in case things went south again?

Three days after the six week deadline before the whole thing is moot, which nobody told me about.

So now I’m back to square one, barely able to work my will up for one more shot but staring down two, wondering if this means I now have the option to go somewhere else or if that counts as mixing vaccines, which even I know to be bad, and feeling incredibly lost and frustrated with the whole thing.

And the brutal truth is that none of these places have accommodations for Kaz that would allow her to get the damn shot anyway! She can’t stand around a Walgreens for hours. She could barely walk back to where the pharmacy even is, and all like two chairs back there are made for skinny little asses so she’d have nowhere to sit while her spine declares war on her. (And this is all ignoring that she basically can’t go out during daylight without a bunch of excess precaution since her antidepressants have rendered her some sort of vampire in the skin department, by which I mean the amount of time it takes for her to get sunburnt is less than the time it takes to walk to the car from the house.)

So I’d still need to act like I haven’t had the shot, because even though it’d stop me from getting sick, I could still bring something home and transmit it to her. Nothing about my life would change. I cannot go back to “normal.” At this rate, ever.

So on the one hand I’m with everyone going “hell yeah get your shot”

but on the other I am effectively one of the people who hasn’t, with someone else who hasn’t and seemingly can’t (I do not understand why we can’t just set up an appointment with her doctor, who does have accommodations, for this??? Why does it need to be some retailer pharma??), and the whole thing is both deeply frustrating, confusing in implementation, and leaving me feeling like a hopeless statistic that’s here just to frustrate everyone else.

Like, I’m probably never going to have a group of people over again? Game nights are gone. Socializing is gone. Web calls never replaced it, we’re not that important to anyone. Holidays are well dead. My family has tried to talk us into attending church for several things, including Christmas and Mother’s Day, and just doesn’t understand how not plausible that is. Kaz is high risk; I have been assured that if she gets COVID, she almost certainly will die. I can’t play fast and loose with this shit like everyone around me wants to. I’m forced to come into work every day as it is and still dread coming up the stairs and being forced to be within five feet of another person, none of whom have ever masked during this thing. If I thought there was a safer job available to me that wouldn’t leave us homeless, I’d take it in a heartbeat.

Sorry for the long post. I just feel so defeated by this whole mess and I keep seeing post after post saying anyone who doesn’t get the shot is an idiot, basically, and while I realize we’re outliers I feel terrible all the same.

[mikeo56]

Zayner, who has a PhD from the University of Chicago, worked for NASA researching the terraforming of Mars, and is the inventor of a musical instrument called the Chromocord that creates sound when light reacts with bacteria, was and is one of the world’s leading “biohackers.” He defines the term to mean “constantly pushing the boundaries of science outside traditional environments,” which he certainly did in this case, taking a radical approach to combating longstanding intestinal troubles. In layman’s terms, his plan was to nuke his natural bacteria with antibiotics, and replace them with bacteria from the feces of others.  

“I wanted to see if, by transplanting different bacteria in my body, they would change the way my gastrointestinal system was functioning,” is how he explains it now. “Because, at the time, it wasn't functioning very well.”

On that May, 2016 podcast, neither science reporter Liz Lopatto nor Arielle Duhaime-Ross, who wrote the story for The Verge, had much that was positive to say about either Josiah or his experiment. In fact, in an eerie preview of the anger of self-proclaimed “experts” that would become ubiquitous among pundits after the arrival of Covid-19, they sounded downright furious.

“Extremely dangerous, possibly stupid,” said Lopatto, of Josiah’s gambit.

“In his mind, it made sense to tell people about it, and inspire them to take their health into their own hands,” said Duhaime-Ross. “The risk of copycats is really real with this.”

“This is one of the things that does bug me about biohackers,” agreed a put-out Lopatto. “I don’t want people playing with pathogens in their bedrooms. Like, I’m not interested in that, personally, as a person who lives in this society.”

A less judgmental New York Times later produced a short film about the episode called Gut Hack:

Whether it’s Zayner gulping down a massive antibiotic cocktail in a WU-TANG FOREVER t-shirt, or repeatedly grimacing as he swallows home-crafted feces capsules in a hotel room, the short documentary is a parade of scenes make your eyeballs pop out in shock and amazement, cartoon-style. Zayner, by any measure, is an extraordinarily interesting character. He has a mind almost perfectly engineered against obedience: brilliant, fearless, and not accepting every assumption but checking the validity of each. He alternately bristles at or ignores judgment, seeming to draw inspiration from it in either case. At the end of Gut Hack, we see him standing on a subway platform, shaking his head as he listens to the two Verge journalists denounce him. We hear their audio:

“Not putting your life in danger unnecessarily is pretty basic,” they complain, adding that his experiment was “not even a blip in the scientific radar.”

“There’s a fine line,” Zayner later sighs to the Times, “between being crazy and knowledgeable.” He goes on to talk about growing up poor, and different, in the Midwest. “When you grow up on a farm, you have all this freedom,” he says. “We don’t have any neighbors or anyone to interact with, so we’re used to just doing what we want. And when you get to this environment were people don’t do that, you’re immediately pegged as, you know, a weirdo.”

Some weeks after, he’s shown feeling better, but he wants more than a placebo result. The film ends with him receiving the results of genetic sequencing tests that appear to show his “gut hack” experiment worked. He bursts into tears. The Times reporter asks, “Do you feel vindicated?”

He seems surprised by the question. No, he says, it’s not about that. “It’s one of those things,” he says, “where you’re so moved and impressed by how science works.”

Zayner went on to claim his battle with irritable bowel syndrome had been won, only to be replaced by a new malady. “My physical signs of IBS were gone,” he said recently. “But so was my privacy. This is when the deplatforming began.”

Around the same time Gut Hack was being made, Zayner founded ODIN, which he describes as “a company that sells science and genetic engineering supplies to people so that they can do science experiments in their homes.”

ODIN’s product line, which includes CRISPR gene-editing kits, seems designed to give ordinary people the tools to experience science as Zayner does, almost more as artistic expression than means to any end. He describes his Chromacord, for instance, as “something more purely inspirational, just outside the average notion of what science even is. In a manner of speaking, it was simply magic.” Or, as he said in another interview, “People having access to this technology allows them to do crazy and cool shit.”

Unfortunately, after the notoriety he gained from Gut Hack, bringing the “magic” of genetic engineering to the layperson suddenly proved a little beyond what science-journalism scolds or the faceless executives at tech platforms felt comfortable allowing.

Amazon and Facebook began delisting his products, and Patreon, PayPal, and Square all shut him down in short order. Sometimes he was told why, sometimes he wasn’t. He was forced to move on, and doesn’t want to jinx his relationship with his current payment processor by mentioning their name.

In between, the State of California brought a case against him on the somewhat preposterous charge of practicing medicine without a license. He won, but California state authorities were so peeved that they passed a law appearing to target his company alone, declaring that firms must append their wares with labels announcing “not for self-administration,” if they’re in the business of selling home “gene-therapy kits.”

In a piece called “Don’t Change Your DNA At Home,” the MIT Technology Review noted with amusement that, even if one includes ODIN, “We’re not sure any such kit exists.” The sponsor of the law, Republican State Senator Ling Ling Chang, appeared to think ODIN’s products were a lot more Frankensteinian and terrifying than they are.

“It was really weird,” Josiah says now. “It’d be like, I don’t know, labeling a computer: ‘You shouldn’t eat this computer.’ I mean, obviously.” Regarding ODIN’s home experimentation kits, he adds, “How would you use it on humans? I don’t even understand. I guess somebody crazy enough could just take some of the DNA that we sell and try to inject it into their body, but it wouldn’t even work in humans because it was meant for other organisms.”

Zayner didn’t comply with the law, and instead just moved to Austin, Texas (“Land of the free, home of the brave,” he laughs) and set up shop there. Then Covid-19 arrived, and Zayner’s biohacking got him in trouble again.

In May, 2020, he read a scientific paper that claimed a DNA-based vaccine against Covid-19 had been successfully developed and tested on macaques.

“I was like, ‘Why isn’t anybody working on this or trying this?’ Why don’t I go and order up the same DNA vaccine, have the company produce it for me and actually test it and see if it works on humans?” he said. “It worked on monkeys.”

Zayner followed through on his idea, contracting with a company to make the vaccine described in the paper. Then he and two other scientists/bio-hackers live-streamed the process of injecting themselves with it. He claims they all had antibody responses, but even at the time — his experiment was covered by Bloomberg — he said, “I’m very suspicious of my own data.” Here is how he describes the results, and his thinking, in a recent essay:

I’m hesitant to say it worked because vaccines are complicated and we’d need further testing to confirm our results. But, even if it didn't work, the fact that someone could have designed a vaccine, and contracted a company to manufacture that vaccine in June 2020 for under $5k is fucking profound — and that is what, at the time of releasing our video, I felt people needed to know.

At the time, there was no action taken against him. But just as mRNA vaccines began to be distributed across America and other parts of the world, he abruptly received notice from YouTube that he’d been banned for “severe or repeated violations of our community guidelines.”

[purplesurveys]

816

Gonna do a before and after of one of the first surveys I took when I was FOURTEEN. Fucking wild that I’ve been doing this for nearly a decade. Kinda my way of celebrating the fact that I’ve just been reunited with my old blog, which Tumblr has apparently changed the URL of. Baffled by the move but still stoked, and @a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse​ is absolutely the coolest person for being able to find it haha. Let’s gooooo 1. Are you registered to vote? No. I still have 3 years to go. < That’s so precious. I’ve been a voter for four years now. I registered the second I turned 18 and I remember being very excited to make it to the presidential elections because only a handful of people from my high school batch were 18 by the time of the elections. 2. When days go by, do you cross them off on the calendar? Only when I’m counting down for something. < This still sounds like something I would do, but I don’t really get to anymore because I have digital calendars on my phone and laptop now. 3. Are you currently counting down to something? If so, what? Summer vacation! 4 days left! < Again, so cute. There’s no countdown that exists because I honestly don’t know when it will be okay enough to go out like normal again, but I am waiting for Covid to go away or at least for a vaccine to be available.

No #4? 5. Ever got injured at work? What happened? Nope. < I sprained my ankle at one of the parking lots in school, while walking to my car. Worst thing was it happened in front of an ongoing rally, and I heard their chants slightly falter when they saw me fall. I tried to play it cool, but my foot clearly felt fucked and someone had to hold my arm as I hopped to my car.

6. What color is your roof? Brown. < Stop pretending like you have a roof, Robyn. The house has always had a rooftop.

7. Do you use MySpace or Facebook more? Neither. < I was still far too young when MySpace peaked so I never did get to participate in its glory days. I definitely use Facebook a lot more, then and now. 8. Last time you sharpened a pencil? When I took a diagnostic test last Monday. < Sometime in 2019 when I was still heavily into coloring and I bought several coloring books and a pack of coloring pencils. I loved coloring and wish I kept it up, but it was just a bit of a hassle for me to sharpen every ten minutes or so. 9. List all the people in your phone under T: Zero, zilch, nada. No phone. < A high school batchmade named Dani, a college colleague named Kate, and a couple of aunts and uncles whose contacts start with Tito and Tita.  10. How old were you when you got into text messaging? I once had a super obsessive text problem when I was 11, I think? < That would be the first time I got hooked with texting, but I got my first phone when I was 7 and was already texting by then. Mostly my parents and grandpa, but still. 11. Do you pay rent to your parents? No. < No. They’ve already told me they won’t pressure me to do so either, but out of gratefulness for taking care of me for 20+ years I have absolutely no problems covering some of the bills when the time comes. 12. What do you think of Obama’s new healthcare bill? I don’t know a lot about it. < Honestly, still same. That’s another country’s politics altogether and we have enough issues in our own nation as it is. I do pay attention to US issues that are more universal like LGBT issues, police brutality against black people, Trump as a person...but not the more in-depth ones like healthcare or student debt. 13. How many icons are on your desktop? 34. < Exactly half of that. 14. Do you spit or swallow? Get outta here!!! < Still can’t relate. 15. Ever wrote something on a bathroom wall? Nope. < Eugh no, public bathrooms are so nasty. I don’t usually touch anything in them other than the faucet. I’ve written on other things though, like the desks in school. 16. What’s your definition of a slut? Uh. < Someone who often has casual sex with a lot of people, is how I understand it. 17. If you use the word “slut”, do you apply it to men who do the same thing as what you listed above? Nah. < I don’t really use the word. 18. Do you dye eggs for Easter? I did once, in a children’s party. < Yeah, just that one time at my second cousins’ place when they were in the mood to paint on eggs and invited me and my siblings. 19. What did you do on the first day of spring? Never experienced spring. < We don’t have spring. 23. Are you currently crushing on anyone? No. < Yes. 24. What color hair did the last person you kissed have? NKSB. < LOOOOOOOOOL I spent like two minutes puzzling over this like who tf is NKSB??? Eventually realized this just meant ‘Never Kissed Since Birth’ oh my god 14 year old Robyn you were SO uncool. Anyway, her hair is black. 25. Do you stand up to say the pledge in school? We don’t have a school pledge, but we do recite our country’s pledge and yes, we stand up every time we say it. < Not anymore in university. Everyone just kinda does their own thing in college and we’re never gathered as one student body for anything, except for graduation. 26. Do you like your eye color? God no. It’s so boring. < I mean yeah it is a bit boring, but we kinda have no choice. Unless you go to West Asia which is nearing Europe as it is, nearly all Asians have brown eyes and black hair. 27. What brand of orange juice did you last drink? Zesto. < That’s the only brand of orange juice I’m okay with drinking, even eight years later. 28. Pens or pencils? Pens. < Still feel the same. 29. Last skirt you wore and why? My school skirt, because I have to go to school. < Omfg again, this is so precious. The last one I wore was my denim skirt, but it’s also been a while since I wore that because one of its buttons has since popped out and I never got around to having it fixed, leaving me with no skirts. 30. Last time you wore heels, what kind were they? A prom I went to. I actually have no idea what kind of heels they are so I’m just gonna say old-women heels. < They were stilettos, you dumbass. I also wore a pair of stilettos the last time I wore heels. They’re my favorite kind, so. 31. Shoes you wear the most? My Keds. < My pair of Onitsuka Tiger sneakers. . 32. Favorite quote at the moment? “YOU DUMB BITCH! I’M NOT HOLDING A MICROPHONE! ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?” - CM Punk < Holy crap, I do not remember this quote at all and had to look it up on YouTube and – no regrets. Watching it made so many memories come rushing back lmao that clip is hilarious; Punk is the greatest. Right now I don’t really have a favorite quote. 33. What was the last magazine article you read about? I forgot. < It’s from the website version of the magazine, but the last article I read covered a viral Facebook post wherein someone had photoshopped the faces of The Big Bang Theory boys onto the traditional graduation photos of my university out of boredom. Article is here for anyone who wants to see how well the pictures turned out lol. 34. What do you think about communism? I don’t know enough about it. < I completely support the progressive youth orgs, especially the ones in my university, that are aligned with communist, socialist, and Marxist ideals. They speak the truth more than any other orgs, so I don’t shy away from defending them or promoting their ideals, especially on social media, even if it puts me in danger. 35. Are you planning on going to college? If so, which one? Of course. I want to study in Ateneo. < CAN WE CANCEL 14 YEAR OLD ROBYN?????? What a disappointment omg. You were always meant to be in UP, you weirdo. 22 year old me takes that appalling statement back lol I can’t even begin to imagine spending my college years in Ateneo. 36. What’s your favorite flower? Ugh I hate flowers. < Peonies and roses. 37. What’s the nearest beach? I think it’s like…600 km away + a 2 hour boat ride. < No it is not. There’s a beach I come back to in Nasugbu and that’s only 100 km away. 38. Ever been to Florida? Nope. < Still nope. 39. How old is your brother’s best friend? He’s probably 9 as my brother’s 9. < I don’t know if he has one and I don’t really care anymore. 40. What type of car did you ride in last? A Kia van. < Sksksksks this was referring to the school bus I used to ride omg :( I was last in our Vitara, when I had to go to the hospital to get some tests done back when I still had a pesky fever. 42. Are you excited for summer 2013? Fuck yeah. < I honestly don’t remember how it ultimately went, but apparently I was excited for it so that answers the question. 43. What class were your parents (ex. class of ‘75)? They’re the same age so batch ‘89. < There we go. 44. Are you in debt right now? For what? No. < Kinda-ish? I promised my sister I’d pay her for helping me out with iMovie (I wanted to make Gab a video for her birthday, but had never done it before), but I haven’t had the chance to do it since I only have big bills at the moment. She’s asking for ₱200 but I only have ₱1000s in my wallet, so I can’t pay her for now. 45. If you’re old enough, do you have a credit card? If you’re not old enough, do you want one when you’re older? I definitely want one. < Yep, still want one. Though I’ll need a crash course on how to use it because my parents never really taught me how cards work. 46. What color is your phone? No phone. < Apple calls it space gray but it’s really just black. 47. Have you ever had someone read a text message they weren’t supposed to see? Yes. < Yes. That person was me, and I accidentally read a text from my dad meant for only my mom when I was 5 because I had stubborn fingers that would click on anything. 48. What’s the minimum age you think someone should have a cell phone at? 10. < Holy cow, that’s a nope for me. I’d say 12 or 13. 49. Would you ever work night crew? Sure. < Yes. I’ve seen my girlfriend’s mom do it and honestly I find it pretty badass, especially because while everyone is stuck in traffic trying to get to work by 9 AM, she’s cruising down the highway on the opposite lane with no problem, to be home by 9 hahaha. 50. How old is the last person you texted? 41. < 22.

[dickshardblog]

Resistance is Futile

The virus is real. The virus is here. It is highly contagious and potentially deadly. I think we can debate about the severity and the origins of the virus later, or, we could debate it now, but while staying the hell away from each other and cutting off this thing's lifeline.

Okay, so, it's easy for me to have that opinion. I'm lucky. Kind of. Ish. I've kept my job. Kind of. Ish. My pay has actually been slashed pretty badly. Commission has been cancelled for April and May so I'm going to be getting base pay only. Okay, yeah, I know a lot of people only get base pay and I was one of them for a very long time, and I’m lucky to have gotten anything above and beyond that. But I have been getting paid above and beyond my base pay and I've grown accustomed to a new comfort level. The stimulus covers that for this month, so I’m not feeling it yet.  But I'm lucky to have kept my job and gained the flexibility to do it from home, which is something I've been lobbying for to management for the past four years, anyway.

But the immediate lifestyle adjustments? Fuck, man. This is heaven. Sequestration is magical. I have a valid reason now for telling people to stay the fuck away from me when before I was just an asshole. I never had any desire to go anywhere anyway — and now I have the perfect excuse, and zero guilt. It's fucking fantastic.

Okay, so, I like the lockdown. It's not hard for me. I'm working from home, which is perfection. I want my commission pay back, my performance-based earnings, but aside from that, we can keep this lockdown going for everyone capable of working remotely for just as long as … well, forever. We can just keep this up forever.  

I don't miss anything.  I don't miss eating out. I don't miss going out. In fact, I just had to go out, and it was sheer hell. I needed a VGA cable immediately, so I ordered one from Best Buy for curbside pickup. Traffic is fucking stupid. Fucking assholes everywhere. Nobody at Best Buy was wearing a mask or gloves, and they're walking up to customers' cars handing them merchandise, talking to each other in close quarters.  The guy who handed me my purchase weighed at least four hundred pounds. If he gets this virus, he's pretty likely dead. This thing isn't kind to the morbidly obese. Unfortunately, most of central Indiana is morbidly obese.

Okay, so, all cards on the table, I have ulterior motives. I like things shut down. So, of course I'm going to champion this course of action. But I also just think it's the right thing … nay, the ONLY thing to do right now. The death toll will likely be at or very near 45,000 by the time I post this, and it is climbing steeply on a daily basis. And that's with all of the extreme social distancing most of us are practicing right now. If we hadn't done this, if we hadn't shut down, we'd be over 200,000 deaths, easy, and it would be fucking chaos out there. Hospitals would be beyond capacity, mayhem would ensue. I have no proof of that, it's just what I think. I can't prove something that I think would have happened under different circumstances.

I'm not terrified of this thing. I'm being respectfully cautious. This is a formidable enemy. My goal is to not get it, to avoid it completely. That way I don't roll the immune system dice on this disease at all, and I maintain a zero fault status in the spread of the virus. If I can pull that off, that will be a perfect game, I win. But this thing is highly contagious, and it is in my city, and it is inside far more people than the daily news numbers show because hardly anyone is being tested. Also, a lot of people get it, and they are just fine. If I get it, I will likely be okay. But, that's not a guarantee. There is a risk. People say the mainstream media is collectively sensationalizing this. Well, of course they are, in their way. Of course they're playing it up for ratings, that's what they do.  

But I don't think they are making it sound worse than it is. I was watching a news broadcast and they said that eighty-six percent of the people under fifty who died of COVID-19 had an underlying health condition such as an autoimmune disorder, obesity, diabetes, high-blood pressure, asthma, or being a smoker. First of all, those are all pretty common. That's a lot of at-risk people. But second, that's what they did say. Eighty-six percent of those under fifty who died had an underlying health condition. But what they didn't say, and what I heard was this: Fourteen percent of the people under fifty who died of COVID-19 did NOT have an underlying health condition. That sounds fucking scary.  Yes, that is still a small number. Most of the people who die from COVID-19 are over eighty years of age. So, the percentage of people who died who are under fifty is low, and it's fourteen percent of that number … but still. That's otherwise healthy young people with no underlying health conditions who are dying. Greater risk for the elderly doesn't equal zero risk for the young. That's not how math or statistics work.  

I've watched videos online from real people. Nurses on the front lines in the hardest hit cities describing chaotic and dangerous conditions in hospitals. People who got the disease pretty badly, but recovered, recounting their terrifying near-death experiences. Yes, a lot of people have a sniffle and a cough. Yes, some people remain asymptomatic throughout the life of their infection, remaining symptom free, but still allowing the virus to replicate in their bodies so they can spread it. But this thing just slaps the fuck out of some people, and sometimes kills them, for no reason. Not because they're old, or sick, or have an otherwise compromised immune system, but they’re just simply unlucky. I mean, maybe there’s something we don’t know. Perhaps they all have something in common, some underlying factor that hasn’t been identified as a risk. That’s surely possible. But still — do you have it, this factor? Do I? 

But fear of getting infected isn't the main reason to distance and hunker down.

We should stay locked down and we should try our best not to spread it because it's extremely contagious, and there is a pretty large section of our society, who, for various reasons, really shouldn't be put into battle with this virus. A lot of them don't have a chance, and we, as a society, need to do the right fucking thing and keep this bug as far away from them as we can. And if caring about the sick and elderly is outside of your capacity, just know that you aren't safe, either. It could kill you, too. Fourteen percent of the people under fifty who died from COVID-19 did not have an underlying medical condition or compromised immune system. I'm sure they all thought they would be fine.

I have learned the following by reading articles written by experts in the field.

There are eight strains of SARS-CoV-2 circulating the globe right now that cause the disease COVID-19. No one strain is deadlier than another, they are all very similar to each other. SARS-CoV-2 is not likely to rapidly mutate and go airborne or get into the water supply. Its current method of transmission from human to human is so effective it has no immediate need to try to adapt or evolve. If and when it does need to evolve to try to bypass our eventual vaccine, it will take it a while. Coronavirus evolves, or mutates, at a slow rate, about four times slower than influenza.

I should be citing this stuff, but this is a blog, not a peer-reviewed paper. This isn't shit I've discovered through testing and examination,  and I’m not trying to formulate my own hypothesis. I’m no expert in any of this, I'm just repeating shit I've found from articles that were well-sourced, and anyone can find them by Googling this stuff and seeing where I found it. But I digress, as I am wont to do.  Anyway, more science facts.

SARS-CoV-2 spreads from human to human in both large droplets and aerosol that exit the body during a cough, sneeze, panting, heavy breathing, etc. Any method that would allow moisture to escape the mouth on the breath. The virus can hang suspended in mist for up to three hours and remain active. The virus can live on paper and cardboard for up to 24 hours, and can live for up to 72 hours on plastic, stainless steel, and other smooth shiny surfaces.

So, on a relatively humid day, and, I know, how many of those are we going to see in mid-Spring, right? On a relatively humid day, an infected person sneezes. That infected aerosol can join with the water already in the air, and just float around ready to be breathed in for up to three hours. So, sure, stay six feet away, but if you move into a space someone else was just standing, you're now breathing in what they just breathed out.

I don't care who says what about masks.  I don't need someone to explain to me how and why masks work. I get that the virus is small and can pass through very small openings and to be fully effective a mask would have to be rated to work against particles as small as the virus, which in this case is N-95. But I also understand that if you're sick and you cough and you're wearing a piece of cloth over your face, you're going to greatly decrease the chances that you're going to spread the virus. Yes, small aerosols will make it through, but a lot of the germs will be caught and never enter the atmosphere. So, yeah, masks are prudent. Any of us could have it, and we should try not to spread it in case we do.

I am lucky and I get to stay in my house. I don’t know what lies I’d be telling myself if I had to go out in the world every day like nothing has changed and do a thankless job. Everyone still out in the world and not practicing social distancing will probably get this. I may get this, despite my best efforts. Most of us will be okay. Some of us won’t. 

[bloggerblagger]

90) Why aren’t the government listening to the one person who has been proved right?  Me.

Robert Young, aka Marcus Welby MD, from whose mouth, the word’s ‘I’m not a doctor’ first came. 

I am donning my  white ‘lab’  coat  to write this post,  and  I have a stethoscope hanging around my neck. I am wearing a reassuringly silvery toupé and  a pair of half moon glasses over which I look  benignly, a little condescendingly, yet with suitable gravity.  In the best traditions of misleading advertising I am here to announce that  yes, I am not a doctor.

Not only that, but I have no medical qualifications of any kind nor, indeed, beyond 5 O’levels’, any qualifications at all. (And none of those were for anything remotely connected with science.)

And yet.

Sometimes - actually most of the time - I think I may know  better than THEY do.  One thing, perhaps the only thing, that  life has taught me,  is that the prevailing wisdom is often total bollocks.  (An alternative explanation of my habitual questioning of any authority might be that I  am an arrogant, deluded twat. Guilty as charged, but that doesn’t mean  I am not right, at least some of the time.)

And in the case of Corona virus, I already have one big win. On March 3rd I posted the following note on Facebook. Six weeks later most of the world  agrees that I  was right. (Not yet the perennially slow off the mark UK government  but it’s only a matter of time and a few thousand more dead.)

Suitably emboldened by the successful slaying of that holy cow, I now ready to move onto another.

One day, at the very beginning of the Coronalamity, before we were locked up but when the tsunami was clearly visible on the horizon, I actually counted the number of contacts I had that day - which I took to be the number of people I spoke to.

This is what I did. (As you will soon see, the stuff of my daily life is not likely to inspire the next  Netflix blockbuster, but please suffer the boredom if you can.)  I chatted to Wilma, my lady wot does, before leaving the house to stop first  at Gail’s ( 50 yards from front door) for my usual poison - an oat milk latté - where I spoke to the girl who took my money, to the barista who handed me my coffee, to a girl standing beside me waiting for hers.

Next I went across the road to drink my coffee whilst chatting to my friend Sid in his (highly recommended) optician’s shop and there I also exchanged ‘hellos’ with one of his assistants.  After that I walked to the Virgin Active gym in Ladbroke Grove, on the way speaking to a  man in corner shop from whom I bought a bottle of water.  I spoke to the  Virgin receptionist, to a chap with an adjacent locker, to someone on the next door treadmill, to the chap who made me my after-session coffee and to the different receptionist on duty as I left.

So far we are up to twelve people. The rest of my day  was every bit as uneventful, possibly even duller, as I spoke to only another eleven. So, in all, I had face to face, words exchanged, contact with twenty three people  that day, and, basically, I did fuck all. Tumbleweed blew through my diary - and I still spoke to twenty three people.

My (heretical) point is this:

We are told that testing, testing, testing is the answer, and, after that, contact tracing. But if I had Covid 19 that day - which I might well have done as a couple of weeks later I developed symptoms, although as I couldn’t get a test,  I can’t be sure - how would  all those contacts have been found? And would they have confined themselves for two weeks? Who would police that?

I could understand the tracing idea when there were a handful of cases, like that chap from Brighton, the first super-spreader who caught it on a skiing holiday, because there weren’t that many people to track down. But now, almost certainly millions of people have had it, and there are millions of other people who they will have infected who may or may not be symptomatic.

Presumably one is infectious for several days  and even at my rate of 23 in a relatively empty day, that’s over 160 in a week. You see my point: the numbers now are so overwhelming that tracing and confining would seem to be a completely impossible task.

A Tracer Calls.

Here is an imaginary conversation between a government tracer (I wonder who and where they are  by the way)  and one of my twenty three contacts. 

‘Hello, Gail’s Queens Park.’

‘I need to speak to the person on the till and the barista who served Richard Phillips.’

‘Who's he?’

‘- with an Oat Latte on - let’s see now - about Feb 28th.’

‘How on earth would we do that? We have lots of different people working on the tills and three or four baristas every day, and you don’t even know exactly which day.’

Etcetera.

Have I missed a trick? Is there some ingenious idea behind testing and contact tracing that I have missed, Well, helpfully, a day or so ago the Guardian  published a guide to Testing and Tracing and the ratIonale seems no more complicated than I thought: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/17/coronavirus-contact-tracing-explained

I can sort of understand the point of testing in the sense that you would get a big enough sample of who is infected to extrapolate the overall infection rate.  If immunity after infection is as likely as with most viruses,  you might then get an idea of when the famous herd immunity might be a possibility.  But otherwise, what is the point? That is my point. Will someone PLEASE explain whatever I am missing.

Ah yes, you say, I can explain. What you are missing is the App,  the famous App that tracks your every move that they have in South Korea and China and can interact with other people’s phones so it knows who you are in contact with at every moment. But presumably the government  would have to download this on to our phones without our knowledge and ensure it can not be removed. (An Orwellian world on steroids.) Otherwise, I would suggest, vast numbers of the population would not voluntarily download it for reasons of laziness or of principle, so it would be of partial help at best.

Anyway (exasperated harumph from author) whether I can see the point of it or not, Testing and Tracing  is about to be restarted - as the Guardian reported. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/17/uk-to-start-coronavirus-contact-tracing-again

So, could this be the answer?

What I can see the point of is the anti-body test. (Also known as serology testing.)  If you’ve possibly/probably had it - as I have - and assuming  you do get immunity,  as with most viruses,  this is absolutely key. Because if you test positive and you have a very low risk of contracting it again then you can begin to resume some sort of sort of normal life. Only one problem: the government keeps telling us that none of the anti-body tests are reliable. (Although on Friday, Roche, the Swiss pharma giant  announced that they had now developed a test. They presumably think it’s reliable but we wait to see.)

One key question, it seems to me, is in what way are they unreliable?  If they are providing false positives they are obviously useless. If, on the other hand, they are providing false negatives - telling some people they haven’t had it when they have - then they are a lot better than nothing. Even if you got a false negative half of the time,  50% might be stuck indoors for no good reason but the 50%  who tested  positive would know that they’d  had it and could move on with their  lives. And the unlucky 50% could be retested as the test was improved.

Did I say only one problem? Silly me. It seems there are far more. Check this out. https://nymag.com/intelligencer/2020/04/antibody-tests-wont-end-social-distancing-anytime-soon.html

Oh dear, and one more thing. The WHO has now told us there is no guarantee that you can’t get it  again.

I am not also not a financial adviser - but....

Which brings me to the markets and the fact that having dropped by about 30% they have now recovered about half of that.

Nobody I know - and I regularly take expert advice  over the fence from my next door neighbour  - has got the faintest  idea why things have bounced back,

Although  yesterday, apparently, the 3% rise in the Dow was triggered by the overnight leaking of a report saying that  the Remdesivir drug was successfully treating seriously ill   Covid-19 patients at the University of Chicago. Shares in the company that  makes it, Gilead,  went up 11% even though this was not a proper randomised control study. (Something well dodgy about that leak. I’m not one for conspiracy theories but I’d bet somebody made a few bob out of that.)

For what its worth, and as my face-mask victory shows, its worth a lot, my guess is that the search for a ‘cure’ is, in the absence of a vaccine, the likeliest means of giving people the confidence to go out and start living again. Not sure any guff about testing - especially from this government - is going to get me in Gails anytime soon.

And here is my invaluable tip re: the markets. Buy, buy, buy. I say this because I have sold.  Got rid of as many shares as I could without paying tax. Taken  the losses, taken the pain. And the one inviolable rule, the ThickAsDick Principle as it is known in the highest circles of financial theorists, is that whatever decision I’ve made will always be the exact opposite of what you should do. Right about face masks, absolutely, but shit on shares.

You have been warned.