Nobody likes being in the middle. It is uncomfortable. When you are assigned the middle seat on a plane you roll your eyes, tuck your elbows into your sides, and hope to move seats or for two quiet, movie watching, small 8 year olds to be in the seats next to you. The middle child in a family is known to struggle to keep the peace and not take up space for themselves (ie; Jan Brady from The Brady Bunch). As someone with a severe, debilitating adverse reaction to the COVID vaccine, I landed squarely in the uncomfortable middle. But, instead of moving seats, I felt called to channel my inner Jan Brady and be the middle child peacemaker. Here is my story.
In April 2021, I was very excited to get the vaccine. I was not on the fence in any way. I believed, as was being promised at the time, that it would help me from spreading the disease to my more vulnerable mom and sister. But within less than two days, I suffered a severe reaction. With this reaction came a new perspective. Maybe…just maybe…not everyone should get the COVID vaccine. We are all genetically different and this vaccine is leveraging new technology. Having personally experienced how the medical world still doesn’t know, more than 3 years later, how to help those who suffer reactions, I completely understand why one might opt out, if given an option.
Additionally, I learned that the COVID vaccines are covered by the Countermeasures Injury Compensation Program (CICP), which is grossly underfunded and way behind. I filed in March 2022 and have just recently received my first email to submit additional medical records. Even if I am awarded compensation from CICP, I can expect to get the average $3,000 which would not put a dent in the tens of thousands I have paid out, not to mention lost wages. I do not have legal rights to sue the pharmaceutical manufacturer nor can I hire a lawyer to represent me in vaccine court. Due to the PREP Act, I am financially and physically on my own for the unforeseen future. Due to the political nature of the COVID vaccine, I am in an awkward place socially as well. The social isolation, in our divided country, has been one of the most difficult experiences of my life.
Two months after my reaction, things took a turn for the better socially when I met Kristie serendipitously on the Mississippi river. She was also struggling with a severe reaction to the COVID vaccine. What are the odds? What a life changing experience it was to know someone else understood this scary, debilitating ride I was on. I hated that she was in pain, but was grateful for the life raft of a friend who understood. We clung onto each other with recommendations for temporary relief from our pain.
This chance meeting lit a fire in me to find others who were suffering alone and build a community built on love, hope and meeting in the middle. Meeting Kristie had shattered the feeling of being a social outcast. I knew, even though the media was painting it this way, that COVID vaccine reactions are not a red versus blue issue. It is a purple issue, in the humanitarian middle where red and blue overlap.
You can believe vaccines are our savior and still support those who had reactions. You can believe the vaccines were intended to cause harm and still have empathy for those who decided to take them and ended up suffering reactions. It is heartbreaking to see the hate I have received from both sides. Those for the vaccine said I deserve to die because I am spreading misinformation. Those against the vaccine said I deserve to die because I am so dumb for taking the vaccine in the first place.
In my already hurting body, these hateful jabs hurt more. But, I found comfort in the majority of comments coming from both sides offering their support and help. Some came forward with recommendations for detox, some came offering to pray for me and some came to simply acknowledge my uncomfortable truth by saying they believed me. To hear from both pro and anti vax strangers that they didn't think my painful experiences were misinformation, when my Facebook posts were being flagged, kept me grounded in the hope that if people from both sides of the issue could support my painful and uncomfortable truth that we could get through the pandemic as a stronger, more empathetic species.
My mom is a lifelong democrat and my dad, rest in peace, was a lifelong republican. I knew that two people who had different political beliefs could find a middle ground and love one another. It isn’t hard, really. It is about taking a pause and considering the others’ perspective. It’s about listening a beat longer to another’s point of view instead of creating the opposing response in your head, tuning out the words of the person who so passionately believes something different than you.
It is in the pause of consideration of the words of another that we actually may find that we aren’t as far off from each other. People dig their heels in deeper when they feel they aren’t being heard. It is a natural reaction to a threat. What if we put down that armor, listen 10 seconds longer before our protective, “I am right and you are wrong,” doubled down stance takes over and shuts down the conversation. What if we take those 10 seconds as an opportunity to connect and see each others’ pain? I urge you to channel your inner Jan Brady. We can make the middle a more comfortable place to be for all. And maybe…just maybe…if we could soften towards one another we could come out the other side of the pandemic united in the purple, united in humanity for all.
I love this message. Both sides can still come together and support the uncomfortable truth that vaccines do harm people. It’s not either or, but both and. Thanks for being a messenger for the uncomfortable middle.
I have learned so much from you on this very topic. Thank you for challenging me to be, and stay, in the purple. I vote Team Humanity.