I have a lot of respect for the medical profession. The fortitude, the dedication, and the hard work of the most exemplary doctors and nurses have always impressed me. Ever since the coronavirus outbreak, that esteem has gone up a hundredfold: how brave these people are, who go on in the face of this pandemic, battling the disease as well as public apathy, public ignorance, and public insouciance.
And, now that the vaccine is in place and being dispensed, the selfie-seekers. You know the people I mean: the ones who love their own faces so much, they've had enough of having to take selfies with masks obscuring their faces.
They're heartily sick of COVID and all the restrictions it imposes, and they see the vaccine as a herald of (thank goodness) final masklessness. These are the people who firmly believe that as soon as they’re inside the clinic or hospital or whatever, within sight of the vaccine, they’re safe. And they can start taking selfies.
I can just imagine what the scene must be like. The nurse says, 'Sit down, please', and there’s immediate joy. 'Sit? You mean you won’t inject it in my bum? Here I was wondering how I'd be able to get a good angle that Facebook wouldn’t censor! Oh, good, good. Let me just put away this selfie stick, sister.'
Then, while the nurse gets the syringe ready, our selfie-seeker rolls up his (or her, make no mistake) sleeve, holds up the phone, and checks that all is well. The designer bracelet or watch is showing clearly in the frame, and the background is all good (so difficult to manage in these medical places, you know, with ill people photo-bombing all the time).
The nurse uses the alcohol swab on the arm. Poises the needle. The selfie-seeker, momentarily distracted, remembers that he or she doesn’t like injections, and there’s a sudden barrage of worried questions. Will this pain? It won't, will it - everybody says it’s painless? If it pains, it'll be all wrong (in other words, the selfie will go for a toss; you want a smiling photo, not a wincing or howling one).
Nurse calmly explains that there will be minimal pain. She's pushing the plunger now, but she's been stopped. No, no, no! Wait, wait. The angle isn’t right, sister’s head is coming in the way. Oh, please move. No, here, to the left.
No, sorry; I meant right. Now can you hold it, just for a moment, at this angle, while I lift up my hand in a V-sign? And, CHEESE! And so on, one shot after another. I admire the medical staff who keep calm and carry on through all of this.
(The writer is a novelist and short story writer and can be reached on Twitter: @authormadhulika)