I was doing research at Chicago’s Harold Washington Library a while back and cracked open a book they had out on display called Voices From the Pandemic. Flipping through the collected first-hand stories from first responders, essential workers, Covid survivors and others, I suddenly was struck by a familiar face: Ian Haydon.
Ian is the younger brother of one of my oldest and best friends, Neil Haydon. I had actually heard, from Neil, that one of his brothers had volunteered for an early version of a Coronavirus vaccine, but that was it; now, here was Ian’s story laid out in a new book.
It took me back to the dark days of 2020 to read his account, which starts like this:
I track the numbers like everyone else, and it keeps getting more depressing. Forty thousand new cases each day. Fifty thousand. Seventy thousand. How high can we go? There are scientifically proven ways to fight this virus, and we’ve failed at every one. We don’t have enough tests. The testing we do have is way too slow. We have no clear leadership. Millions of people can’t afford to stay home, and now we’re throwing fits about social distancing or wearing masks.
Ian goes on to share how he was part of the first clinical trials for Moderna. He heard about the trials through his work, which is at a biotech institute in Seattle, and signed up. Being in good health at age twenty-nine, he felt like a good candidate for a hitherto-untested new vaccine — though I would say, this still took some serious nerve.
He was warned, while signing up, that there might be risks and adverse reactions. But in addition to his trust in science and belief in the importance of the vaccine, some family history bolstered him: a “great-grandfather who died of Spanish flu in 1918, when he was only twenty-three years old.” This was “a chance to be part of something truly historic.”
The test patients were divided into groups, and Ian was among those who received the highest dose — ten times the amount that would be administered normally. But the first shot came with no reaction at all. The next time wasn’t so easy: immediate arm pain was followed by chills, sweats, nausea and fever later that night. After waiting it out for awhile, at four in the morning he went into urgent care.
He met with doctors and nurses (“wearing those space suits for protection”) who ran a panel of tests, gathering data. This would be valuable information for ensuring the safety of the vaccine. Before morning, Ian passed out from the nausea. “It’s probably the sickest I’ve ever been, but I was back to normal the next morning. I was fine.”
Ian reflected on the meaning of his rough ride during Covid trials:
It’s complicated to talk about. I worry it will get twisted by the little army of anti-vaxxers. We’re living through a low point in confidence in scientific institutions, and all the disinformation scares me. People have asked me: “Don’t you regret signing up for the study?” It’s like, “No!” For me, it’s more evidence the process is working. This is what’s supposed to happen.
In other words: controlled experiment, trial and error, testing and recalibration. A process “like walking over thin ice and looking for cracks.”
At the time of Ian’s interview for the book, he was set to complete Phase 1 of Moderna trials through a fourteen month process. At the time of this writing, over 221 million doses of the Moderna vaccine have been administered in the U.S. alone. (source)
On behalf of everyone who’s had their Covid shot and feels more secure going out into the world because of it: thanks, Ian.
For more stories like this, check out the full book by Eli Saslow, Voices From the Pandemic: Americans Tell Their Stories of Crisis, Courage, and Resilience.