Life Lessons from a Flu Clinic

I'm all about learning life lessons whenever the opportunity presents itself, and this weekend I learned two: "Volunteerism is its own reward" and "Share and share alike."
Our town held its first H1N1 flu clinic this weekend. Like many parents, I worried about getting my children vaccinated. Our doctor's office has not yet received the vaccine (they ran out of the regular flu vaccine before my kids could get it.) Friends were already reporting their children home with the flu; it seemed only a matter of time before one of my kids caught it. So the fact that our town was offering a clinic for pregnant women, children, and caregivers came as a relief.

With a limited number of doses available, I formulated my plan to camp out at the High School to insure my children's vaccine. Hmmm, the clinic was due to start at 11 a.m. Would nine be early enough? Should I get there at six? This was a bit like sleeping over for concert tickets, except this time the stakes were higher. How to work out the logistics when my son had an 8:00 a.m. soccer game and my husband and I were down to one car?

The solution came in the form of an email, asking for volunteers for the clinic. Though my other volunteer work is for altruistic reasons, here was a chance to volunteer and perhaps get something in exchange. I quickly emailed Nancy, the clinic's organizer and volunteered my services. In my email, I mentioned that I had planned to wait on line for the vaccine for my children. By volunteering, could I insure that they would receive the vaccine?
　
Nancy's reply? "Thank you for expressing an interest in helping us at our first in a series of H1N1 flu clinics. Volunteerism is a wonderful thing that many say is it's own reward but we will be offering immunizations to our volunteers and/or families if they meet the criteria of this first clinic." Snap! Nancy had my number. She saw right through my plan. I was tempted to email her back a list of my unselfish volunteer credentials (Meals on Wheels, Sunday School, Lego Robotics), but I figured it best not to rock the boat. If getting my children the vaccine meant me coming off as a scheming, calculating person, so be it. (Really, I'm not...much).

Two days prior, I learned that the clinic would be open to residents of any surrounding town, as long as the participants met the criteria. Say what? With a limited number of vaccines, why not reserve it for our own residents first? A mother from a neighboring town told me she was planning to attend our clinic because she was taking her kids to Aruba for Thanksgiving and was worried about them catching germs on the plane (you can imagine how I frothed over that one). Many towns were reserving the vaccine for their residents. Why not us? I tried to rally as many Hanover friends as possible, urging them to get to the clinic.

On the day of the clinic, I reported to the High School, only to see a long line of people waiting patiently in the hall. Some of them had been there for over three hours. "That could have been me." I thought. My role as a greeter was to help register people in line and bring them to the nurse's area once their paperwork was processed. As I worked my way down the line with the other volunteers, I saw both familiar and unfamiliar faces. The first person in line was a mother from Hanson, who had been there since 6 a.m. I thought I would feel anger. This woman was potentially taking a vaccine from one of my friend's children. But my anger was gone. Wouldn't I do the same thing for my children if Norwell or Scituate or Abington had an open clinic? As I helped residents and non-residents alike, I was ashamed of my initial petty, territorial feelings. We were parents without borders, willing to do whatever it took to insure the safety of our children. Share and share alike.

With so many people desperate for the vaccine, I imagined the clinic would be a zoo. But Nancy and her legion of volunteers kept everything running smoothly. Nurses, clerical workers, EMTs, firefighters and police all worked together to keep the line moving and get parents and children through as quickly as possible. Each time I led a family back to the nurse's area, (the final step in their vaccination journey) I felt a lift. While the kids were often anxious about the vaccination itself, the parents all shared the same expression of relief: their kids would finally be protected. They were effusive in their gratitude, but honestly, I was grateful to play a small part in something so important to the community.

There will be more flu clinics in the weeks ahead (Nancy's already planning ways to improve the next one) and though my children will have been vaccinated by that time, I'm hoping to participate again. Because Nancy was right: Volunteerism is its own reward.