The next morning, Georgia called Evelyn for her sister Emily’s vaccine card. Evelyn, as efficient as Georgia expected, already had it and rolled off the numbers of the lot.
“And the card definitely lists Jefferson Medical as the manufacturer?”
“It does,” Evelyn said. “How’s it going? Have you found out anything yet?”
“Not really,” Georgia said. “But I’m putting out feelers. Something should turn up soon.”
“Sounds like my late husband. Big fly fisherman. Always bragging about the wide net he cast.” Evelyn chuckled. “But he never came home with much. I think those trips were just an excuse to get loaded with his buddies.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t drink and I wouldn’t know one end of a fishing pole from the other.”
“I’m not worried. Ellie told me about you.”
Georgia smiled. Evelyn sounded warm and down to earth this morning, much different from her stiff-necked posture the first time they’d met. Maybe she just had to get used to someone before she let out that sly sense of humor.
After she hung up, Georgia forced herself to do some research. Four or five companies produced vaccines in the US, and there were other manufacturers in other countries. How could all of them assure the public that the process of making the vaccine hadn’t been contaminated somewhere along the line? Knowing how the vaccine was made and dispensed might give her a clue.
The World Health Organization claimed that after the vaccine was approved, the antigen—the active part of the vaccine—was combined with other ingredients and scaled up. WHO made sure to mention that rigorous quality control and safety tests were done during production, but they didn’t mention any specific tests. Was that important? Or were there just too many to describe?
She dug deeper and found that the ingredients added to the vaccine each served a purpose, and that each element was tested for safety. Those ingredients included preservatives; stabilizers; surfactants, which kept all the ingredients blended together; and residuals, which contained trace elements of inactive vaccine elements. Then there were dilutants, mostly sterile water, that was added to make sure the vaccine was at the correct concentration, as well as something called an adjuvant, which was supposed to improve the immune response to the vaccine. These adjuvants were typically a tiny amount of aluminum salts, which people eat and drink regularly.
Georgia leaned back and blew out a breath. Based on the ingredients, that made five possibilities where contaminated ingredients could affect the vaccine. Not including the glass vial or the cap that stoppered it.
She circled back to her original question. How could manufacturers assure the public that the vaccine and all its additives were pristine? How could quality control inspectors vouch for each ingredient at each facility at each company when there were facilities all over the world?
The answer was that they couldn’t. As far as she could tell, investigating the cause of an adverse reaction was like looking for a goldfish in the ocean. Investigators would have to check who manufactured each ingredient and test it. And who had the time or resources for that when people were dying every day?
She read on. Everyone made a big deal about the refrigeration of the vaccine and how it traveled by air or truck, packed in dry ice or in refrigerated compartments, each batch equipped with a GPS Bluetooth device to monitor the temperature. That was supposed to reassure the public that the vaccines were as pure as they’d been the instant they rolled off the assembly line. But if the vaccine was already defective, what did it matter? What if someone was administering a vaccine and inserted a dirty syringe into the vial? People could get sick. Or die. This was not a job for rookies. Georgia rubbed her temples. It was time for a break.
She threw on a sweatshirt, grabbed her keys, and went out for a jog.
Twenty minutes later, she was back at her computer. There was one more thing she needed to check out. What happened when manufacturers discovered or were notified about adverse reactions? Apparently, health-care providers were supposed to report incidents to VAERS, the Vaccine Adverse Effect Reporting System. They were reported online, and if the government, specifically the FDA or CDC, which co-managed the database, had questions, they would contact whoever reported the incident to get more information.
But what if the situation wasn’t reported? Were there penalties for not reporting? What she read next confirmed that fear. VAERS was primarily for monitoring adverse health events. Health-care professionals, using their clinical judgment, the VAERS rules said, could decide whether or not to report a medical error.
Georgia got up and paced the room. She’d found the Catch-22. The entire VAERS program was bullshit. She began to understand why the anti-vaxxers were so vocal about the vaccine safety. She could understand a doctor or health-care professional deciding not to report one adverse reaction. But here were three deaths possibly caused by the vaccine. Surely, Dr. Blackstone or one of his people must have reported the cases. Wouldn’t they?
Although she was exhausted, Georgia felt triumphant. Because of her dyslexia, it had taken her all morning to plow through the information. But now she knew her next step.