Ricki Lewis

"So, you've been eatin' hot dogs and chicken nuggets all your life and you don't want the vaccine 'cuz you don't know what's in it??" asks a befuddled chicken in a meme.

Actually, plenty of information is out there about "what's in it."

Upon entering a vaccination center, you're handed a multi-page fact sheet that, among many other things, lists the chemicals about to be plunged into your arm.

The first two COVID vaccines are roughly the same recipe, adjusted for proportions and tiny details: mRNA, 4 fats (including cholesterol), a pinch of sugar, and a few salts. No eggs, preservatives, ricin, or leechee nut extract. (See The First COVID-19 Vaccines: What's mRNA Got to do With it?) Ingredient lists for hot dogs and chicken nuggets are far longer and complex.

Yet the comparative transparency of vaccine ingredient lists isn't enough to dispel the fear of something new and unfamiliar being jabbed into your body. For many people that fear arises against a backdrop of the history of dishonesty in medicine that has misled and mistreated marginalized groups, as well as the record of unethical clinical trials for some vaccines, notably influenza.

To continue reading go to my DNA Science blog at Public Library of Science, where this post first appeared.

Most of us have an intuitive understanding of how a vaccine works: show the immune system a bit of a pathogen, or something mimicking it, and trick it into responding as if natural infection is happening. The COVID-19 pandemic ushered in a flood of vaccine options.

When I was writing "How the various COVID vaccines work," which ran here at DNA Science on September 10, I had to keep reviewing summary charts to remember who was doing what. Vaccine technology has gone beyond live, weakened, or killed virus, even past the once-groundbreaking subunit vaccines that present parts of a pathogen, like the hepatitis B surface antigen or pertussis toxin. Now we have DNA and RNA vaccines too, delivered in different ways.

The first two vaccines against COVID-19, Tozinameran (the Pfizer/BioNTech vaccine) and mRNA-1273, Moderna's still unchristened candidate on the brink of emergency use authorization, are mRNA. And that's confusing people, based, perhaps, on when they took high school biology (more on that coming). So here's a brief consideration of mRNA and how it can alert the immune system to fight SARS-CoV-2.

To continue reading, go to my blog DNA Science at Public Library of Science.

COVID vaccine hesitancy is on the rise, perhaps in the wake of pressure to speed approval beyond scientific reason. But I think some of the hesitancy might be due to confusion over how so many different vaccines can target the same pathogen – and why this is a good idea.

The ultimate voice of scientific reason, Anthony Fauci said in a media webinar:

"I'm cautiously optimistic that with the multiple candidates with different platforms that we're going to have a vaccine with a degree of efficacy that would make it deployable. The overwhelming majority of people make an immune response that clears the virus and recover. If the body can mount an immune response and clear the virus in natural infection, that's a pretty good proof-of-concept that you'll have an immune response against a vaccine."

Having choices would provide options for people not covered by some of the vaccines, like those over age 65 and people with certain medical conditions. "It's a misperception that vaccine development is a race to be a winner. I hope more than one is successful, with equitable distribution," Fauci said.

The vaccines work in what can seem to be mysterious ways, but all present a pathogen in some form, or its parts, to alert the immune system to mount a response. Understanding how it all happens isn't like learning "how the sausage gets made." Knowledge may quell fears.

To continue reading, go to my blog DNA Science.