The Jab

It was an interesting time leading up to yesterday’s Jab.  The first big story to circulate was: “go to Lentegeur psychiatric hospital for your jab – you don’t need an appointment – and they are sooo well organized!”

The result was loads of people quite swiftly finding their way to Mitchells Plain!  Who knew that folk from the Atlantic Sea Board knew how to drive to Lentegeur ? A Vaccine is a powerful thing.

The sms landed on my phone last week.  Telling me that I was officially registered to get my jab.  Even just that little message made me pee a little with excitement!  So you can just imagine what went down when the sms arrived with my appointment date and location.  Unprintable.

I had never been to Somerset Hospital before.  Drove through the gates which opened remotely.  Great parking bay right in front of the doors.  I was super impressed so far.  Went to my deurmekaar boot and threw on a sexy T-shirt because I mos knew that selfies were going to happen.  For the gram, baby, for the gram !

A doctor strolled down the corridor, looked into my masked-up face, and said “we are only doing 50 year olds and over.”  I blushed and focused on my marriage.

I could not have been in that queue for longer than 45 minutes.  There seriously was a really special beautiful spirit in the air.  Of course I struck up a conversation with the friendly gentleman behind me who’s been seeing his girlfriend for 11 years, now engaged for 3 years, and may get married next year.  Ja.

Chairs were continuously being sanitized.  Of course there were rebels who arrived with no confirmation sms.  These were promptly put in another line.  The rest of us took great pride in looking at the rebels with warm judgement.  Judgement that said  THIS ISN’T LENTEGEUR!

My phone devastatingly died just before it was my chance to get the needle.  But friendly Randall who works at the hospital shouted I GOT YOU LOTTERING  IT’S FINE!  (He sent through 49 pics last night.  Yirre Randall.)

I didn’t look at the needle, but it really was painless.  Much more bearable than my 3 covid tests up the nose and down the throat!  (Ja that throat thing happened in Botswana.  A lovely country nonetheless).

All went swimmingly. The only issue was when I got back to my car.  The security guard asked me why I was there.  I said: “the jab mos”.  He responded: “this is a private parking area for doctors – you were meant to go around the back – with normal public”.

I have zero idea why those remote controlled gates rolled wide open for me.  But we are not here to question the Creator.