In Line For Swine

Before I begin my post, I want to apologize to any Janie fans that may still exist. I have started back to work and have found myself with less time to write than anticipated. Moving forward I promise to write more, but I will warn you- my thoughts and therefore, posts may be more scattered and random than ever before. In the name of time, I am foregoing any loyalty I ever had to grammar and proof-reading.

Last Friday will go down in the books as the day I actually considered murder.

I received an email from my bestest mommy friend alerting me to a swine flu clinic. Fortunately and unfortunately, my children qualified for the vaccine due to their young age.

I had been on the fence as to whether or not I even wanted to vaccinate my kids. But when my babysitter snapped and fired us- due to Tyler's wild temper tantrums- I was forced to put my kids in daycare.

Ach-choo, cough, slobber, runny eyes, blown out diapers, puke .... I didn't need x-ray vision goggles- like the ones on CSI- to see the creepy, crawly germs. They were everywhere. After one day in daycare, I made my decision to have the youngsters vaccinated.

I knew the clinic would be packed and I really didn't want to tote my kids out in the rain, so I called my pediatrician's office to make an appointment. I was a little shocked to find out that they didn't have the H1NI vaccine and weren't confident that they'd even get it.

The concept baffled me. Why would the Center's For Disease Control decide to mass vaccinate people at the Butler County Fairgrounds instead of disseminating the vaccine to local doctors offices?

I called around only to hear the same message-
You want your kids vaccinated? Get your ass up to the fairgrounds and wait in line next to the pig barn.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

Anticipating waiting an hour or two, I packed four diapers per child, snacks, a bottle, toys, warm clothes, umbrellas, the portable DVD player, a worn out copy of The Backyardigan's, and my mom.

When we got about a mile away from the fairgrounds, it became clear just how many people hoped to get their kids’ one of the 13,000 shots up for grabs. The crowd looked like a Wiggles concert had met and married Woodstock. Parents and children alike were lined up in rain gear as far as the eye could see. The clinic had only been open a half-hour and the police had already been enlisted to shut down the operation.

My mom and I took our place at the back of the line and quickly made friends. We got the scoop.
The "good moms" had been lined up since 6 a.m.
There were only eight health department workers on hand to vaccinate over 6,000 people.
There were only two bathroom stalls in operation.

Freaking fabulous. Janie was itching to come out and it was only 10 a.m.

My mother, a nurse, banished us to the car while she waited in line. She said the chance of Pneumonia was as likely as the swine flu. You don't argue with Big Jude, so to the car we went.

After and hour, I was getting restless and I tried to call my mother to get a line update. No answer. No surprise. She always forgets her cell phone at home.

Three hours into the quest against the plague, I was still stranded in the car with two whiney kids and about to loose my cool...
I had to pee- bad.
I had all I could take of The Backyardigan's.
The baby had finished her bottle and was boycotting a nap.
Tyler had blown out 2 out of 4 diapers.

Just as I was pulling down my pants to pee in a diaper too, my mom knocked on the window- I have had two babies. I lose bladder control when I am startled.

She told me that we had at least three more hours to go. It was around that time that I started to understand why some people are driven to murder.

I was so angry. I would say that 85% of the people in line- Babies, toddlers, pregnant women- had private insurance. Instead of being able to go to the doctor and get a vaccine that could save their lives, they had to wait in an absurd line. In the rain. In the cold. At the fair. Two bathrooms?

Somehow my dad finagled his way in to the fairgrounds to save the day. He brought backup supplies and peace. He also reminded me that I voted for Obama and that this is what "Obama-Care" would look like if the public option went through. Ugh. Always a teaching moment.

If there is one person who can get nastier than Janie, it's Big Jude. My dad sent her home and took her place in the world’s longest line.

About four hours into the wait, the DVD player battery died. So did my patience. My sanity. My filter... My hope is that Tyler forgets how to say the F-word before he goes to daycare next week.

After a six hours of waiting, our turn finally came. It was worse than a haunted house. Kids were screaming bloody murder as health department workers frantically vaccinated in an assembly line.

My son looked at me like I had tricked him. I'm sure he thought that after hours of waiting there'd be something cool- like Disneyworld- in store for him. Nope. Just a needle prick in the leg. I hadn't even thought to bring a sucker.

Just as we got to the front of the line it stopped. I was going to go postal if they told me that they ran out. Instead, I had to wait in another line because the nurse had just thrown up. My confidence and my nerves were shattered.

I snapped and started a scene. It was like an out-of-body experience complete with screaming, arms flailing, and foot stomping. I demanded that my kids be vaccinated IMMEDIATELY. We had waited long enough.

I knew that I looked wild, but it must have been worse than I thought because the health department ring leader came from behind her desk and personally vaccinated my kids, myself, and my dad.

As we left the building I noticed the line starting to build again. Some lucky folks had been let in at the last minute and would only have to wait an hour and a half... At least my bestest mommy friend was able to be part of this fortunate group.

I was just about to apologize to my dad for dropping the F-bomb a lot over the last couple of hours and for the scene. I knew he would forgive me, but probably lecture me on cussing out my husband when he called to see how it was going. I was prepared for that, but I wasn't prepared for the emotional breakdown I had when I locked Tyler in the car.

Yep. Still don't know how that happened.

I stood with tears streaming down my face while dad went to get the cops. I called my husband and cussed him out again. I seemed like the logical thing to do at the time.

Tyler was so exhausted that he was asleep before the cop could slide the coat hanger in the door. The lock was popped in 5 minutes and we were homebound after Six LONG hours.

According to the Health Department, in 30 days my kids have to get a second dose of the H1N1 vaccination for it to be fully efficacious.

I, or Janie rather, warned Ms. Health Department ring leader that the government better use those 30 days to get their act together and some pig flu shots delivered to my pediatrician’s office.