Best leave vaccine science to the experts

We can't disregard the devoted work of virologists, Suzanne Westover says.

Twenty years ago this month, I was working in a soul-sucking administrative job by day, while xeroxing copious copies of my scant one-page resume in the evenings. I would stuff them into large manila envelopes, licking stamps with the enthusiasm of George Costanza's doomed fiancée, before mailing them off to every cruise line I could find, reputable or not.

A lack of savings and an unfamiliarity with geography wasn't going to stop me from living out my dream of seeing the world. When the opportunity did arise, and it came with a list of required vaccinations longer than my arm, I called every travel clinic in town on the hunt for inoculations from Yellow Fever to an updated Tetanus shot — and everything in between.

The doctor stuck me like a pin cushion, warning that he didn't usually recommend multiple vaccinations in such short order, only relenting when I explained my life's ambition hinged on being able to board a vessel in South Africa in less than two weeks.

While I try to remain well-informed when it comes to my health choices, I've long understood my rudimentary knowledge of all things medical means I must rely on folks who've dedicated their lives to learning about the stuff that stumped me in Grade 11 science — and far beyond.

When MRNA vaccines first came on the scene, I wanted to do my part to try to grasp this new system. I bought Walter Isaacson's book, The Code Breaker, hoping for detective novel-style learning.

Rather than a breakneck pace, I plodded from cover to cover. This is no reflection on Isaacson's masterful grasp of gene editing, but rather the inevitable outcome of being a high school chemistry dropout. So, while I will never comprehend exactly how these new vaccines work, I'm more confident than ever that other people have done some serious homework.

Just like the average Jane, I use my cellphone every day, but have no idea how the thing transmits a real-time text message. I certainly don't let my limited technical knowledge stop me from using it. Ditto my toilet. Too often, we don't pause to appreciate the everyday miracle of a flushing commode. I certainly won't reject the benefits of running water because the ins-andouts of copper piping are as mysterious to me as a black hole. Don't even get me started on IVF. How our daughter burst forth from a petrie jar is the greatest and most joyful mystery of all.

Given I can't parse a cellphone's inner workings or the miracle of modern plumbing, let alone the science that froze my embryo, I certainly recognize my limitations.

When it comes to the COVID-19 vaccine, all I really need to know is that an accumulation of tiny breakthroughs over decades allowed scientists to create an effective shot at precisely the moment we needed it most. (Don't quote me on that, it's what I understood from the book. If you want evidence-based information, I recommend deferring to a proper expert, not this occasional column writer.)

I cannot imagine how the everyday heroes Isaacson described, who toiled away, unrelenting, unrecognized, and unrewarded (publicly at least — are we going to have a scientist's parade when this is all said and done?) must be feeling when they read about people who are resisting life-saving vaccinations based on bunk science, misinformation, or a misguided sense of self-determination.

I'm not advocating for one thing or another, I leave that to the law makers. All I know is that I wanted to work on that cruise ship badly enough that I didn't blink at the prospect of half a dozen vaccines. (It might be worthwhile to note here that I lived to tell about it.)

While we can't give everyone who gets a vaccine a free world cruise, surely after 18 months of sheltering at home, safe freedom of movement runs a close second.

I'm more confident than ever that other people have done some serious homework.