Wednesday, May 22, 2024
HomeCOVID-19In the abyss of the vaccine-injured, there’s no one to catch you

In the abyss of the vaccine-injured, there’s no one to catch you


We have been running an occasional series of the personal accounts of Covid-19 vaccine-injured people. These are men and women who, from the moment they started to suffer from and reported serious adverse reactions, have felt abandoned by the NHS, experts and professionals. Today’s writer, who wishes to remain anonymous, describes the ‘abyss’ that confronts her as the ‘safety net’ she thought the NHS provided, is simply not there for her or her fellow injured. 

PRIOR to my vaccine injury I’d had short-lived dalliances with The Fear. For instance when I found a lump in my breast I called my GP surgery and they arranged a same-day appointment. The GP I saw was very kind. He confirmed that I did indeed have a lump, that he would refer me for an urgent appointment, and that I would be seen very quickly, so to try not to worry. He took it very seriously and I felt safe that the NHS would do whatever was needed to help me. 

After a few nerve-racking days of waiting, my referral came through for the same week and I had a scan, and was told during my appointment that the lump was a cyst. Phew! 

In the weird twilight zone between finding the lump and being told it was benign, the fear of dying reared its ugly head, but it was only for a short window, so I managed to keep it at bay by focusing on the next step in the reassuringly proactive clinical pathway.

Since my vaccine injury, fear of dying has become a more regular feature of my life. It’s always waiting in the wings, ready to pounce when I go downhill, or new research shows more information about the havoc that the spike protein can wreak, or I have terrifying symptoms (the heart symptoms are particularly frightening and I have thought I was a goner more than once).

I can’t hold the fear at bay for a short time until I get test results, like when I found the lump, because there are no tests to alleviate my fears. There is no ‘two-week wait’; in fact there is no clinical pathway for vaccine injury. There are no specialists keen to support me to get to the bottom of my complex multi-system issues (more than 50 symptoms) and find a way to cure me; there is no one and nothing to reassure me that it will be ok.

The medical safety net of our health service that has caught me so many times throughout my life is not in place now that I am vaccine-injured.

My experience has been the opposite of feeling safe. I have been gaslit, lied to, shouted at abusively. Some people don’t believe/acknowledge that vaccine injury is a phenomenon. And the caring specialists are limited in how much they can help because it’s novel: the research and equipment are not in place yet for them to test, diagnose and treat me. I’ve lost trust in medication, after all Big Pharma is the reason I got injured, and their unwillingness to acknowledge vaccine injury is the reason we’ve suffered so much abuse and continue to struggle to get help. There is no one, and nothing, in place to catch me when I fall.

So in this abyss that is being vaccine-injured, I’ve learned to co-exist with the fear. Instead of keeping it at bay, whenever I am strong enough, I face up to it. I have written letters to my husband and son, updated my will, and told my closest friends that I love them. I joined a wonderful group of other vaccine-injured, and I research ways to help myself. I acknowledge that we all die some time, and I allow myself to be scared. I’ve learned that I’m not scared for me, even though I love my life, especially the people; I am scared for my son who needs his mum. 

I also feel angry. For the way we have been knowingly abandoned to fend for ourselves, and for the abuse we receive from both the pro- and anti-vaxxers (we don’t please either camp! Anti think we’re covidiots and pro think we’re liars, and both can be quick to tell us!) 

But also, when I’m not too foggy, I try to take more notice, to feel more, to cherish and be grateful more, to be kinder, to appreciate the few wonderful specialists who care to do what little they can to understand our issues more, to empathise with other injured, to recognise the kind souls who empathise with us, and I now see the world in colours and detail that I never saw before. It has also helped me to realise what really matters to me; put things in perspective. On the better days, I can see these things as a gift; at these times the fear doesn’t have control of me.

My son recently told me he’s scared I’m going to die from my injury – he asked me outright. I was honest as always. I said ‘Everyone dies at some point; some know for a long time that they’re ill, and some die suddenly. I don’t know when that time will be for me, but I can promise you that I am doing absolutely everything I can to get better, and I always will, so I can be with you as long as possible (he’s young enough to still want to be with his mum lol). And while we are together let’s always try to make the best of it, have the most fun we can!’

Take that, The Fear.  

For anyone similarly affected, the support group UK CV Family works hard to help and be a voice for the Covid Vaccine injured

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