As a nurse I see people worried about vaccines: that doesn’t mean they’re antivaxxers
Istarted working as a nurse in 1987. I’m coming up for my 35th year: I knew it was an anniversary, but I had to count which one. Sometimes I feel I’ve been doing this for too long. But the Covid vaccination programme has been amazing. We have seen how, when we want to do something, we can pull it off. I work as a vaccinator at a centre in Coventry where we get through 440 a people a day, usually between five vaccinators; about 80 people each.
The mobilisation of this workforce and the rollout has been outstanding. The camaraderie is the best bit of the job for me – that we’re working together and it’s positive when so much is doom and gloom. We’re doing something to fix the pandemic, and fixing things is what nursing is about. I find myself smiling under my mask; I’ve realised people can see it in my eyes, even if they can’t see my mouth.
Our centre is in a clinical setting, but there are many in other places like Sikh temples and mosques, which is great, I think, to get to people more hesitant, to allow people to have their vaccine in a more comfortable, or familiar setting – and to reach all communities. I notice the loud person, the quiet person, the person who may be scared. One went pale when I drew up the vaccine – my colleague was administering – and I thought, “He’s about to faint.” I gave him what we call in nursing “the reassuring arm”. I spoke to him, about nothing in particular; I held his hand. The colour came back to his face.
Afterwards, my colleague said I’d acted fast, but that’s what we do. As a nurse, I’m always looking around to see what is going on: who may need more care. I see a lot of fear in people’s faces, people are scared. Some come in who have lost family members. I’ll never forget the young mum with lung disease right at the beginning of the vaccine drive, last winter, who said, “I think I might actually survive this.” I always well up in this job.
Nurses in GP surgeries, which is my background, often feel invisible. But we are the first people you talk to when you want to set up a vaccine clinic: we run them all the time in general practice – for flu, HPV, baby vaccines. It’s as much about the logistics of running a service – getting the staffing numbers right, ensuring adequate PPE for the team, the safe disposal of needles and syringes – as it is about delivering vaccines.
Vaccinators work swiftly, but I have seen cases where people do hurry, and we say to them to take their time. I’ve learned to spot the people who might have concerns; I try to build trust with them and ask them to look at the science. It’s hard in a fast-moving environment, I have to build a relationship with someone in three to four minutes. But I think it’s important vaccine-hesitant people are not labelled anti-vaxxers: I would say to anyone who has doubts about having their vaccine, ask questions.
People always apologise to me for asking, but they’re the ones I want to spend the time with. Two extra minutes could mean they come back for their second jab or their booster. Occasionally someone will walk out and decide not to get the vaccine, and that’s fine. It’s a personal decision at the end of the day, but it’s important to leave the door open so they know they can come back and get it another time.
We vaccinate people in their homes, too. We work with people’s carers. We’ll go to any length to provide people with the support they need. Nurses have helped and responded like this throughout the pandemic, going the extra mile. Colleagues are burning out, of course, but when we’re asked to do more we will. That’s in our nature as nurses. And I want Christmas dinner with my parents, who are in their 70s, as much as the next person, so I know how important it is to deliver vaccinations. It’s a real undertaking, but I’m proud to be involved.