On Saturday I waited in line for 5 hours to get the H1N1 vaccine. I have never worried about cold and flu season; I have worked with kids for such a long time that I have always had a very robust immune system. However, 6% of the fatalities in the country have been in pregnant women, who represent only 1% of the population. I work at 5 different school sites, and kids have been stricken with H1N1 at each one, so I was becoming very concerned. I had been taking Vitamin D and C supplements, washing/Purell-ing my hands like crazy, and calling my doctor, the Santa Clara County Department of Public Health and the CDC on a daily basis, trying to get my hands on a shot. There was no vaccine to be found, even for a very high risk individuals like me. The vaccine is supposed to be distributed on the basis of population, but our county, with over 1.8 million residents, has received to date only 40,000 doses (half of that the nasal mist, which pregnant women and the immunocompromised cannot take, due to the presence of live virus). Much smaller counties like Santa Cruz have received almost double that amount. And of course we have all heard that Citigroup and Goldman Sachs have received theirs.
On Saturday the county held the first public vaccination clinic, for high risk patients. The clinic (held at the fairgrounds) was scheduled to begin at 9:30am. I arrived at 8:10am. Later, I learned that people began to line up at 3:30am. The line was nearly 2 miles long. During numerous conversations with the Health Department, I had been assured that there would be a separate line for pregnant women, the very ill, the handicapped. This turned out to be not true. There was one mass line, and people were not triaged until they got to the head of the line.
I was in line with a very chatty woman, and the first few hours passed quickly. Repeatedly I corralled police officers and Health Department workers, to inquire as to whether there would be a separate line for truly high risk patients (my gut feeling was that many of the people that were in line were not in the high risk category). The police officers were friendly but clueless, and the health department workers just kept telling me "No cuts. No cuts." It was their mantra. Words are woefully inadequate to describe how infuriated I was by being told this. I was not trying to ride a roller coaster at Great America, dammit. There were no provisions for bathrooms, just one overwhelmed McDonald's across the street.
While waiting, I was interviewed by the local CBS affiliate. Finally after 2 hours (3.5 if you count arriving early), I had enough. There was another pregnant woman in line right behind me; unlike myself, she looked very physically uncomfortable. In my broken Spanish I exhorted her to join me in storming the ramparts; even with translation support from others in line, she declined. So I marched to the head of the line, and opened up a can of 8.5 months-pregnant-Peng-whoopass. Anyone who has witnessed me indignant and with a full head of steam can imagine the scene. Add pregnancy hormones to the mix- as I informed the reporter when she asked if I was worried about vaccine running out before I made it to the head of the line- I was not going to leave without that shot.
I stood by the police officer in charge of crowd control at the gate, and made nice with him (Manners really do go a very long way. My style of whoopass involves lots of smiling, talking incessantly, and giving the general impression that NOTHING you tell me will make me go away). After telling me repeatedly that there was nothing he could do, he consented to allow me to stand near him and wait for someone from Public Health who was in a position of power. Finally someone clutching a walkie-talkie passed by, and he gestured her over. I pled my case, that I was 8.5 months pregnant, worked in a school setting, had been in line for almost four hours, my feet were swelling, I had spoken on the phone with someone in Dr. Marty Fenstersheib's office (the head of Public Health- god bless the Internet, I got his number right off their website), and casually mentioned that I had just been interviewed (I had the reporter's business card)...finally she agreed to let me in. Just to shut me up, clearly. I asked if she was going to make any changes in protocol so that the preggos and people in wheelchairs and walkers wouldn't have to stand in that hideous line, but she refused to answer.
Once I was inside the gates, I still waited for an additional hour and a half. But I got my shot, and I am very relieved. And you can bet your sweet bippy that I am writing a letter and calling that reporter. I could not believe how disorganized things were; it was like the Soviets circa 1985 were in charge.
II. Heartburn
My most heartfelt (yuk yuk) apologies to anyone who has in the past complained to me about their heartburn, and found me lacking in sympathy.
I had never had heartburn before. I now have it all my waking hours. It sucks.
III. Nesting
Bunting now has something resembling a nursery, in the room that was formerly the movie/junk/acoustical insulation storage room (more on that in a moment). This weekend I will empty out the closet and paint it, with an eye toward installing some closet organizers ASAP. I took off the ugly sliding doors and put up a cheerful polka dot curtain instead. In any case, he will sleep in our room for the first few months at least, so there really is no hurry. I did decide that it was IMPERATIVE that we have diapers in the house. They are impossibly tiny.
crappy pic of very cute curtain
FRK's version of nesting is to embark on a DIY bass trap project. Bass traps...well they trap low frequency waves, eliminating standing waves that compromise the quality of the sound coming from the speakers. This involves wooden frames, the aforementioned acoustical insulation (a giant bale of it), fabric, and stapling. My man is many things- handsome, smart, very funny, a great cook- but handy with fabric and a staple gun are not on the list.
Anyway, over the course of about 4 weeks we have built six 4'x2' traps. Along the way, we visited the fabric store twice (What an interesting sub-culture that is); snapped at one another innumerable times; took apart a decades old staple gun (We inherited it from Snuffy, and are loathe to retire it, but common sense prevailed) that jammed repeatedly (It was a nightmare- we had to look up a schematic on the web to figure out how to put it back together. And still the piece of shit wouldn't work), purchased an electric staple gun, and finally finished the damn project.
Stratigraphy, top to bottom: wood backing frame, rock wool, fiberglass, fabric
Much to my pleasant surprise, I can actually hear a difference with the traps installed.
IV. Summary and Conclusion
34 weeks/3 days today. 39 days left. Thirty-nine!!!!
Aside from the aforementioned sucky heartburn, I feel great. I love being pregnant. Today he woke me at 6am wriggling and squirming. I just lay there, chatting with him (in my head), until he went back to sleep, and then I did too. Check ups every two weeks now. Yeepers.
Yeah. 1/2 pound a week he will gain, for 6 more weeks. I may need flying buttresses when all is said and done.
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