The security guard at the private hospital in Bengaluru greeted us with folded hands and a ‘namaste’ and asked whether we had come to get our coronavirus vaccination.
Yes! I said to myself, we were finally getting our shots against this crazy virus. After the front line workers, it was now our turn; the over 60s and elders with comorbidities.
I had always thought that ‘morbid’ meant horrible like in, “Man, he has a morbid sense of humour”. Then, I found out that morbidity meant suffering from a certain illness. But, comorbidities, I thought, was a solid word, describing someone with immense powers.
After peeking into an online dictionary, I found that comorbidity meant having two or more diseases.
“But I have only high blood pressure, hypertension, both mean the same thing, not two diseases,” I told my wife, a couple of weeks earlier, trying not to get vaccinated and to just sit out the pandemic inside my flat.
Like the group that firmly believe that masks do not work in keeping the bugs at bay, there is a second group of cynics who are certain that vaccination is some sort of a ploy.
For the first time in the history of the world, politicians of various hues and shades, had finally united in this evil plot, according to the anti-vaxxers, who also believe that the vaccines have the actual coronavirus. Of course all this is misconception and misinformation.
“I have the doctor’s certificate,” said my wife, who finally persuaded me to get vaccinated as just one of us being virus-free was not going to change the situation inside our home.
It is said that India is a young country, with the mean age of 29 years. Same was the case with the Arab Gulf state where we were working — a very young population. But in that state, one barely saw any older people.
That was the first question my wife’s mother, asked when she landed in that country. It must have seemed like landing in a futuristic universe where everyone is eternally young.
Retirees paradise
At the hospital, it seemed like all the old folk in the city, that was once known as a “retirees paradise”, had come out of their homes at the same time.
I spoke to the receptionist in a whisper, so as to not alarm anyone: “Have there been any adverse reactions”? I asked.
“No, sir. Not at all. Everything is going smoothly,” she said.
“Touch-wood,” said my wife, knocking on the fake wood of the receptionist’s desk. (My wife is superstitious and had even selected the ‘good time’ to get vaccinated).
My job as a journo had unfortunately turned me into a cynic and suspicious of everyone, especially those in power, like this young lady who had the power of the vaccination over us.
“I am asking because some countries in Europe have stopped giving this particular vaccine, which you are offering, after several people had blood clots,” I persisted.
“No, don’t worry. we did not have a single adverse case, ” she said cheerfully. “You see, unlike the foreigners, we Indians have more immunity,” she said.
“Let’s go, “said my wife.
The male nurse said the shot would be slightly painful, but not to massage that part of the arm.
My wife started arguing that it was better to massage as it would help spread the vaccine swiftly through the arm muscle.
The nurse looked at her strangely and said, “No exercise till two hours after the vaccination”, and my wife giggled. “We don’t exercise,” I said.
“No beverages, ” he said, and that made my wife even more giggly. “Come back after 28 days for the second dose”.
Mahmood Saberi is a storyteller and blogger based in Bengaluru, India. Twitter: @mahmood_saberi
