What No One Told Me at the Pediatrician’s Office: How to Read Vaccine Inserts

This video is important. I never realized how much my story mattered back in the day—I was hesitant to speak up. But now, as a grandmother, I see the situation has only worsened. I can't stay silent.

Let me start at the beginning of my learning curve. In college, I worked as a veterinary assistant. Back then, you didn’t need a degree to wash dogs, scrub cages, or assist during surgeries. I also gave animals their shots. The first time I was asked to do so, I was told to grab a syringe from the fridge. Inside the box was a flyer, and the senior assistant suggested I read it. "Beyond all the big words, there’s some good information," she said. I can’t say I retained much, but that moment stuck with me.

Fast forward a few years to my baby's first pediatrician visit. The nurse handed me a vague, faded permission slip and told me to sign while she prepared the shots. There was no meaningful information on that paper. Remembering that flyer from my veterinary days, I asked for the information sheet from the box. The nurse seemed irritated and denied its existence. I insisted she open another box and check. With steely eyes, she complied. I told her I’d review it and give my answer at the next visit. She wasn’t pleased and warned me about being "off schedule" and "endangering" my child.

That night, my husband and I read the insert. He asked how likely it was that our child would contract the disease the shot was meant to prevent. According to the numbers, the odds were about 1 in 500,000—maybe even less, I don't remember now. It was just an unfathomable number. Then he pulled out his lottery ticket with better odds and asked, "When was the last time we won anything?" The answer: never. But I didn't want my kid to be the 1.

We researched the disease itself—its symptoms were straightforward, and antibiotics could effectively treat it. But the side effects of the shot - mind you, "side effects" are documented effects, they're just not what you intended - had double-digit incident rates: high fever, brain swelling, and worse. These were documented kids, not statistical odds. The odds of our child developing meningitis after the shot were less than 1 in 100.

Meanwhile, the odds of contracting the disease naturally were closer to 1 in a million.

I still hear my husband’s voice: "Why are we getting this again?"

It’s a question that still matters today.

My kids have had chickenpox, pertussis, and multiple strains of flu—the worst one followed a military-issued vaccine. We lived through it. Honestly, most of those illnesses weren’t alarming. We spent a few days resting on the couch by the fire or outside in the sunshine. We ate chicken soup—or sometimes nothing at all.

You must consider what you’re giving your children. In 2002, when one of my kids had an injury, the on-call pediatrician told me not to worry. The country had run out of tetanus vaccine the previous year (later confirmed by the CDC as a shortage from 1998-2000). Of 129 verified cases during that time, only 37% sought medical care, and just 63% of those were eligible for tetanus toxoid for prevention—not treatment. There were no deaths. A respected doctor at the CDC confirmed this at a cocktail party months later. Once I truly began researching for myself, I found the record.

So, I ask again: Do we really need this shot? All these shots?

If you were buying lottery tickets with these odds, would you? If there was a 1 in 500,000 chance of winning, but a 1 in 30 chance you’d end up hospitalized with massive bills—would you spend the $5?

I lived in Las Vegas for a few years. Those are not winning odds.

Many parents today are asking these same questions, especially when their children struggle with lingering colds, chronic congestion, or unexplained fatigue after receiving multiple vaccinations. If your child seems stuck in a cycle of illness and can’t shake it, there are ways to support and detox their system naturally. I can help you restore balance and resilience in your children’s health. If you’re looking for answers, reach out—I’d love to help.