Time to trust the vaccine

This weekend of doorbell-ringing ghouls and zombies leads me to think of where we place our fears.

On Oct. 24, the Spokane Regional Health District staged a massive, smoothly organized vaccination clinic at the Spokane Arena, yet approximately 2,000 doses of rare H1N1 vaccine were left at the end. Too many of us, in the midst of a dramatically increasing swine flu outbreak in Eastern Washington, are choosing to trust suspicion over science.

Here are the facts: In the last six weeks, the rates of swine flu have rapidly climbed in Eastern Washington. According to the Washington state Department of Health, we had 195 severe cases between Sept. 19 and Oct. 17 here, compared with only 144 in the much more heavily populated region west of the Cascades.

The incidence of influenza in Spokane, according to the medical lab that performs testing for local hospitals, is five times greater this fall than during the height of the flu season last winter.

A 5-month-old baby has died in Spokane in recent weeks and other children lie seriously ill in the hospital. Spokane Valley high schools, according to Julie Graham, public information officer for Spokane Regional Health District, are reporting almost unheard-of absentee rates, as high as 20 to 25 percent.

In most flu outbreaks, it doesn’t matter if younger families quietly sit back and avoid the vaccine. Usually it’s much more virulent among the elderly. But this flu is different. The state health department reports that for the month ending Oct. 17, there were 58 children ages 4 and under hospitalized with influenza in Washington compared with 59 for the much larger age bracket of 50 to 64. Only 24 people over age 64 in state hospitals tested positive for the disease.

I understand the fears of young parents. I shared them when our daughters were small. I know the anguish of members of our extended family with autistic sons, who search for answers and believe they glimpse them, scientific evidence to the contrary, in the vaccinations the boys received.

I know how precious these beloved children are in our families, how fraught with anxiety these decisions can be. But I also trust those who devote their lives to protecting the public’s health. I believe them when they tell me that as usual, the vaccine is vastly safer than the disease.

So last week, I walked through the doors of the Spokane Arena, amazed by the efficiency of this huge, Red-Cross-faces-a-natural- disaster-style clinic. I swiftly proceeded through one step after another, guided by dozens of cheerful volunteers, as I filled out a simple form here, answered a few questions there, and stopped at a third point to ensure my underlying condition actually qualified me for the vaccine.

Soon I was seated next to what appeared to be a retired nurse. (I could imagine her years ago in a starched white cap and seamed white stockings.) I rolled up my sleeve and she hoisted a glistening needle. One twinge and I was following the path through that lobby once again, completing the circle around to my parking lot. It probably took all of five minutes.

Now, when one of my students reports, as a number of them already have this fall, that their doctor has diagnosed them with swine flu, I don’t have to worry I’ll be sidelined, too.

We’ll all be safer when the young families standing cautiously on the sidelines decide to roll up their sleeves.

Children, teens and young adults should get the vaccine. Even if they catch a mild form of this flu, Graham points out, they can inadvertently infect an infant or a pregnant woman, who may be hospitalized or die. (Pregnant women make up only 1 percent of the population, yet have accounted for 6 percent of the deaths.)

Graham expects more vaccine to arrive soon.

When it came time for me to make my own decision, I turned to sources I trust for advice. Everyone from the Centers for Disease Control to the Mayo Clinic to Consumer Reports (I count on their endorsement for my car, why not my health?) agree. If you’re part of one of the target groups, you should be vaccinated.

I’m also a storyteller and as easily influenced by anecdotal evidence as anyone else. So here’s the tale that led me to vaccinate our own children.

Our neighbors years ago were a pair of bright, well-educated parents, who decided not to vaccinate their young son. Later the boy died of a rare case of whooping cough.

I’ll swill Vitamin D, call an acupuncturist and hop on a massage table for all sorts of annoying, but nonlethal ailments.

But when it comes to life, death and virulent pandemics, I trust the magical, healing properties of science.