I am in the pale. In numbers, I belong to the 87 percent of the country’s population that have not been vaccinated against coronavirus disease 2019 (Covid-19), by choice or not.
It is the latter in our case. The husband and I have registered when the local government units in Luzon where we live and work made the call for A3 and A4 groups, prioritized due to underlying health conditions and working in the public, private and informal sectors.
Our latest registration was in the Parañaque website, open also to non-residents. The government launched a “mega vaccination site” at the Nayong Pilipino, with eight “ambulatory vaccination centers and 30 drive-thru booths” and the capacity to inoculate “at least 15,000 persons a day.”
Currently, the husband and I still belong to the 96,731,254 Filipinos that have not received even one dose of a Covid-19 vaccine.
As of Aug. 9, the country’s population is 111,185,350, according to the United Nations. Only 11 percent of Filipinos are fully vaccinated while 1.9 percent have at least one dose of a Covid-19 vaccine, based on the ourworldindata.org.
Vaccine equity has to leap out from public health jargon into reality because the supply of vaccines is insufficient to meet the demand.
In our part of Cavite, the administration of the second dose of Covid-19 vaccines was delayed for weeks and has just been resumed. Prioritized are the A2 and A3 groups, who are elderly, have comorbidities, or are both.
Yet, the A4 (frontline economic workers) and A5 (indigent) groups are also vulnerable. Many Calabarzon residents commute to and fro Metro Manila for work, putting them daily at risk.
When the poor get sick, they rarely rush to hospitals. “Coronavirus inequality,” to borrow the phrase used in a “Washington Post” article, is the reality that those with less in life fear more a lockdown than disease.
The former means hunger, a protracted dying. Covid-19 works quickly on people with poor nutrition and health and little or no resources for work from home, physical distancing, isolation and hospitalization.
I will accept any vaccine but first, it must be available.
I will wait for a vax appointment, which every government website I have registered in promises to send but has yet to fulfill.
Walking into a congested vaccination center without an appointment is a sure ticket to the Delta class.
As part of the walking unvaccinated, I pose a potential threat to others, including the vaccinated. A nearby vax center has closed for “disinfection.” Vaccinators are getting exhausted, infected, or both.
Yet, the deafening call to “get vaccinated” lacks this antecedent message: “Make vaccines available.” Please.