SATIRE | VACCINES
Sure, Let’s Inject My Child With More Poison
Maybe a couple of bonus jabs for the road
“Hello,” I said as I pressed the phone to my ear while my three-year-old daughter loudly chased our dog around the living room.
“Hello, this is Buxton Family Medical Practice. Am I speaking to the parent or carer of (my daughter)?”
Oh, fuck off.
“Yes, I am her mother,” I replied, preparing myself for the fuckery.
Calls from our doctor’s office have become more frequent over the last two years. Usually, it’s reminders about flu and COVID vaccinations, which they began reminding us about once the medical practices started getting paid for administering them.
I’m sure it’s a coincidence.
“Can you confirm your name for me, please?” The woman on the end of the phone asked.
Can you tell me why you never pick up the fucking phone when I need an appointment but have time to call me about dumb shit?
I double-checked the caller ID and confirmed my name.
“Thank you,” the woman replied. “My name is Linda and I would like to chat with you about your child’s vaccinations.”
