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We all want to believe that if we were alive when it happened, things would have been different. We would have sheltered the Jews. We would have helped the heretics. No witches (old women) would have burned. We would have stood up for them, demanded justice, inserted ourselves into the situation, and made it better. We would have insisted upon our God-given rights.
We would have used the rule of law to protect ourselves.
We would have been different.
We would be the ones.
We all think that if the time came and the country were split, we’d the ones fighting for freedom. We’d fight for justice. We’d fight for all that is good and right. Because we are good people. Because we have strong feelings about this.
…and then when it creeps up on you, the only thing that crosses the mind is panic.
Utter and sheer panic.
Where will my next paycheck come from? What about my family? What about our health insurance?
What about my home?
How will we survive? How do we accept the consequences for standing up for the things that I so strongly believe in? How do I tell my child that they will suffer because of me? How is that conscionable?
There are more questions than answers.
And even though we talk like we would somehow be different than those wicked people in days of yore, many of us would much rather get along to go along.
I can file a religious exemption. Whether or not it is true, it’s a loophole that has been made for me. I can do that and preserve my family.
But it isn’t real and it isn’t directly true.
While I may have reservations about the good of vaccines coming from lines of cells derived from aborted fetal tissue, it isn’t exactly true that I have a problem with it. I have had many vaccines; some of those have been tested on those same fetal cells. I have had two Covid vaccines which were tested on fetal cells. I didn’t know this at the time (bad Catholic, me). But all the same, I didn’t find Jesus right now.
But it would be easier.
Because my doctors have all been coerced by the state to not write any exemptions, no matter how righteous, because they will lose their livelihood.
And at the end of the day, their jobs mean more than mine. At the end of the day, ultimately, truly, these caring doctors who have cared for me for years, blink and apologize. They hope I’ll figure it out. They really don’t want me to think that it isn’t because they don’t care…but their hands are tied.
At the end of the day, my life means less to them than their license. My life means less than the lives they might otherwise touch. I’m an outlier. I’m a genetic anomaly with unpredictable hypersensitivities that doctors cannot quite explain.
And the end of the day, if I have to get a vaccine to keep my job, that’s a risk they’re willing to take.
I want to think that I am better than money and that I stand for principles. I want to think that when human rights are challenged, I will stand up.
But even when it is my own life and my own rights, I am finding it hard to muster the courage.Published in