Inclusion is a necessity
I am delighted to share that I received the first jab of the Covid vaccine.
It happened last Saturday. And the efficiency of the whole operation was beyond anything I ever experienced before.
Wednesday: I receive confirmation that (unpaid) carers are eligible for immediate vaccination. Thursday: I call my doctor. Friday: I am booked-in for vaccination. Saturday: it is the big day.
At 17:20 I leave home to go the assigned vaccination centre - an hotel, just down the road. At 17:25, as I drive into the hotel car park, an aide dressed with full PPE kit asks me to stay in my car. At 17:32 another aide approaches my car, signalling it is time. As I walk into the hotel, i see an orderly and distanced procession of human being walking in, each wearing a mask on their face, each wearing hope in their hearts.
At 17:34, my turn comes. A smile to the receptionist, covered by my mask of course, and here I am in one of the cubicles. I noticed at least 20 cubicles, perhaps more. A nurse and an assistant welcome me. They have warm voices, I can sense they are truly proud of what they are doing. Four quick questions for me to answer. “Can you take a pic of me while I have the jab?” I asked to the assistant. “Sure, with pleasure”, she answers. I did not even feel the needle coming in, I was too busy smiling behind my mask. 17:36. “Well done!”, says the nurse, as she puts a colourful sticker on my t-shirt, as my ‘medal’ for having the jab.
It’s 17:38 when I walk out of the hotel, with a sticker on my T-shirt, a card in my hand with date and time for my second jab, and most crucially, the vaccine in my body.
By 17:45 I am back home. It took less than half an hour, from beginning to end. Absolutely impressive.
Still astonished, I pause and reflect on how many people had contributed to make that magic half an hour possible, and feel gratitude emerging from the very depth of my being: gratitude for those who developed the vaccine, for those who took part to the clinical trials, for those who produced the vaccine, for those who distributed it, for those who structured and funded this extraordinary operation, and for all doctors, nurses and aides around the world. And also for all of those who behaved sensibly and responsibly, and are still behaving sensibly and responsibly, to contain the spread of this lethal virus. Indeed, it took an extraordinary interplay of diverse contributions to get to that magic half an hour.
And then, with gratitude still going strong in my heart, some other reflections emerged, bringing some other feeling with them. I had my jab. I am very fortunate to live in a country that is deploying the vaccine with a speed of a Formula 1 car, and has already vaccinated well over a fourth of the population. Being vaccinated is wonderful on a personal level, and it also protects the local community, as I am now far less likely to be a vector for the disease. But alone, it won’t be sufficient to put this pandemic to an end. To bring this pandemic to an end, it takes being fully inclusive in the vaccination program, and ensures those jabs reach everyone who need them, everywhere in the world. Fast.
I have tried and tested the extraordinary power of inclusion times and times again, in business and in personal life. I believe in inclusion and I am absolutely committed to drive it further. But when it comes to something devastating and all-encompassing like the pandemic, being inclusive in deploying the ‘solution’, alias the vaccine, is more than a mindset, is more than a personal belief, is more than a mighty aspiration - here inclusion becomes an absolute necessity. For everyone, including those who are not particularly vulnerable to this disease, and for those who, like me, have been very fortunate and have already received the first vaccine dose.
We can beat the pandemic. Through inclusion.
Ella
Managing Director, Shella Consulting Ltd
