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AGI – A key aspect of the desperate global race by Pfizer, Moderna and other pharmaceutical groups to develop a coronavirus vaccine is the recruitment of tens of thousands of volunteers willing to participate in clinical trials. AFP Miami correspondent Leila Macor took part in a trial organized by the American biotech company Moderna, which announced Monday that its experimental vaccine was nearly 95% effective. Why did Macor, who suffers from asthma, decide to be one of the 30,000 subjects in the Moderna test? Here’s the story of his experience (narrated in the first person), which began a few weeks after his father’s death from Covid in Chile.
A difficult decision
Three weeks before Pfizer and Moderna launched their coronavirus vaccine clinical trials in late July, my father died, alone, as many did during the pandemic. As our family went through this trauma trying to say goodbye to the best of our ability, I was faced with another terrifying reality: Miami was becoming one of the top virus ‘hot spots’ in the United States and I was assigned the job of writing on the subject. . But with the virus in circulation, my life has irrevocably changed: my father died and I suffer from asthma, with all the complications that would follow a possible contagion. The idea of doing something to help control this global health emergency has given me some inner peace. Let’s be clear, it was a totally personal decision that had nothing to do with work. I spoke with friends and family about it, who helped me decide that the potential side effects of the study would be no worse than getting Covid-19.
The big step
Two days after writing a story about the start of Phase 3 trials in Florida, I knocked on a lab door once more, this time as a potential volunteer. The Research Centers of America, located in the Hollywood suburb of Miami, were working alternate days on tests for Pfizer and Moderna. Dozens of other labs were recruiting volunteers across the United States. Anyone was eligible, as long as they did high-risk work: doctors, taxi drivers, supermarket employees. And journalists. I made an appointment for a Tuesday in mid-August. That was a modern day.
“Not knowing will kill me”
While I was taking my blood pressure, the nurse looked at me and said in a rather serious tone: “Placebos are as important as the vaccine. The experimentation needs a control group. Anyway, you are helping humanity. ” I felt guilty for being obsessed with my condition, instead of focusing on the overarching goal: helping everyone overcome this pandemic.
A story in two doses
The nurse took six to eight vials of my blood. I lost count. They gave me a pregnancy test and emphasized the importance of using contraception during the process, saying that the possible side effects for a fetus were unknown. Then two people with the vaccine went into a cooler. Or maybe it was the placebo. They laughed when I asked if I could capture that moment with a photo. For them it was just one more Tuesday. The injection didn’t hurt me. They took me to a waiting room, where I spent half an hour for observation. I was with three or four other volunteers, who spent that time with the phone in hand. One of the nurses was wearing a Superman cape. “Why the cape?” I asked. “Cause we are all heroes here, girl“, answered.” I have a lot of gadgets, stickers, a T-shirt, a mask, with ‘Covid warriors’ or ‘Covid superheroes’ written on them. “The lab asked me to download an app to monitor my temperature. And any symptoms. When I got home, my arm hurt a little. I was wondering: Did I really get the vaccine? Three days of internet searches for” injection site “Vaccine”, “muscle pain” and other expressions got me nowhere.
The second dose arrived in mid-September. It hurt a lot more and for a while. A small hard red bump appeared right at the injection site. But I still have no idea if it was the placebo or the vaccine. I have to wait for Moderna to tell me one day. I finally realized that participating in the process was a way of processing my pain, for losing my father and seeing the world this time. It was a small gesture, but it was the only way I could convince myself that I was fighting.
