Long-term care residents' participation in the fastest and most extensive vaccination effort in U.S. history is clouded by a significant complication: More than half have cognitive impairment or dementia.
This article was published on Thursday, December 17, 2020 in Kaiser Health News.
Imagine this: Your elderly mother, who has dementia, is in a nursing home and COVID-19 vaccines are due to arrive in a week or two.
You think she should be vaccinated, having heard the vaccine is effective in generating an immune response in older adults. Your brother disagrees. He worries that development of the vaccine was rushed and doesn't want your mother to be among the first people to get it.
These kinds of conflicts are likely to arise as COVID vaccines are rolled out to long-term care facilities across the country.
Navigating Aging focuses on medical issues and advice associated with aging and end-of-life care, helping America's 45 million seniors and their families navigate the healthcare system.
"This is a highly politicized environment, not only with respect to vaccines but also over the existence of the virus itself," said Michael Dark, a staff attorney with California Advocates for Nursing Home Reform. "It's not hard to imagine disputes arising within families."
About 3 million people — most of them elderly — live in nursing homes, assisted living centers and group homes, where more than 105,000 residents have died of COVID-19. They should be among the first Americans to receive vaccines, along with healthcare workers, according to recommendations from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and various state plans.
But long-term care residents' participation in the fastest and most extensive vaccination effort in U.S. history is clouded by a significant complication: More than half have cognitive impairment or dementia.
This raises a number of questions. Will all older adults in long-term care understand the details of the vaccines and be able to consent to getting them? If individual consent isn't possible, how will families and surrogate decision-makers get the information they need on a timely basis?
And what if surrogates don't agree with the decision an elderly person has made and try to intervene?
"Imagine that the patient, who has some degree of cognitive impairment, says 'yes' to the vaccine but the surrogate says 'no' and tells the nursing home, 'How dare you try to do this?" said Alta Charo, a professor of law and bioethics at the University of Wisconsin-Madison Law School.
Addressing these issues will occur against a backdrop of urgency. Deaths in long-term care facilities are rising dramatically, with new estimates suggesting that 19 residents die of COVID-19 every hour. With viral outbreaks increasing, already-overwhelmed staffers may not have much time to sit down with residents to answer questions or have conversations with families over the phone.
Meanwhile, CVS and Walgreens, the companies operating vaccine programs at most long-term care facilities, have aggressive timetables. Both companies have said the large-scale rollout of the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine — the first one that the Food and Drug Administration has authorized — will begin on Dec. 21.But facilities in some states may get supplies earlier. Altogether, there are more than 15,000 nursing homes and nearly 29,000 assisted living residences in the U.S.
At a meeting of the federal Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices early this month, Dr. Nancy Messonnier, director of the CDC's National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases, acknowledged the agency was "very concerned" that information about vaccines be adequately explained to long-term care residents. "It's very important for the frail elderly not only to ensure that they are understanding the vaccine that they're getting but also that their family members do," she said.
Each vaccine manufacturer will be required to prepare a fact sheet describing what's known about benefits and risks associated with a vaccine, what's not known, and making it clear that a vaccine has received "emergency use authorization" from the FDA — a conditional endorsement that falls short of full approval. A second vaccine, from Moderna, is poised to receive this kind of authorization after an FDA meeting on Thursday.
Something that will need to be made clear to residents: while vaccines have been tested on people age 65 and older, those tests did not include individuals living in long-term care, according to Dr. Sara Oliver, a CDC expert.
Some operators have crafted communication plans around the vaccines and already begun intensive outreach. Others may not be well prepared.
Juniper Communities operates 22 senior housing communities (a standalone nursing home, multiple memory care and assisted living facilities, and two continuing care retirement communities) in Colorado, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. This week, it is planning an hour-long town hall videoconferencing session for residents and families about coronavirus vaccines. Last week, it held a similar event for staffers.
Juniper has contracted with CVS, which is requiring that every resident and staff member fill out consent forms in triplicate before being inoculated. When written consent can't be obtained directly, verbal consent, confirmed independently, may substitute. Walgreens has similar requirements.
For residents with memory impairment, two Juniper nurses will reach out by phone to whomever has decision-making authority. "One will ask questions and obtain verbal consent; the other will serve as a witness," said Lynne Katzmann, Juniper's founder and chief executive officer. Separately, emails, blog posts and prerecorded voice messages about the vaccines have gone out to Juniper residents and staffers, starting at the end of November.
A key message is "we've done this before, not at this scale, mind you, and not at this level of import, but we do flu vaccinations annually," said Katzmann, who plans to be the first Juniper employee to get the Pfizer vaccine when it comes to New Jersey.
At Genesis Healthcare, crucial messages are "these vaccines have been studied thoroughly, tens of thousands of people have received them already, they're very, very effective, and no steps have been skipped in the scientific process," said Dr. Richard Feifer, executive vice president and chief medical officer. Genesis, the nation's largest long-term care company, operates more than 380 nursing homes and assisted living residences in 26 states, with about 45,000 employees and more than 30,000 residents.
Medical directors at each Genesis facility have been scheduling video conferences with families, residents and staffers during the past few weeks to address concerns. They've also distributed a letter and a question-and-answer document prepared by the Society for Post-Acute and Long-Term Care Medicine, in addition to getting information out through closed-circuit TV channels and social media.
In partnership with Brown University researchers, the company will monitor daily the side effects that its long-term care residents experience after getting coronavirus vaccines. Most reactions are expected to be mild or moderate and resolve within a few days. They include fatigue, pain at the injection site, headaches, body aches, fever and, rarely, allergic responses.
Administering the vaccine will occur over three visits for all long-term care facilities. At the first, all Genesis residents and staffers will get inoculations. At the second, three to four weeks later, those same people will get a second dose, and new staffers and residents will get a first dose. At the third, those who still qualify for a second vaccine dose will get one.
What will happen if lots of people experience uncomfortable side effects and employees don't come in for a couple of days while recovering? "It's a very difficult problem and we're making contingency plans to address it," Feifer said.
And what about continuing care retirement communities — also known as "life plan communities" — where residents in skilled nursing, assisted living and independent living can reside in close proximity?
That's the case at Bayview in Seattle, which houses 210 residents in a 10-story building. For the moment, independent living residents aren't on the priority list but "I know there will be a contingent of residents and staff who won't want to be vaccinated and we'll see if we can use those vaccines for our independent living people instead," said Joel Smith, Bayview's health services administrator.
Logistical challenges are sure to arise, but many operators have an acute sense of mission. "It is critical that we lead the way out of this crisis," Feifer of Genesis said. "Nursing homes need to go first and be the first ones to address vaccine hesitancy head-on and be successful at generating a high level of acceptance. There is no alternative, no Plan B right now. We have to be successful."
When her husband was diagnosed with early-stage Alzheimer's disease in 2015, Elizabeth Pan was devastated by the lack of options to slow his inevitable decline. But she was encouraged when she discovered the work of a UCLA neurologist, Dr. Dale Bredesen, who offered a comprehensive lifestyle management program to halt or even reverse cognitive decline in patients like her husband.
After decades of research, Bredesen had concluded that more than 36 drivers of Alzheimer's cumulatively contribute to the loss of mental acuity. They range from chronic conditions like heart disease and diabetes to vitamin and hormonal deficiencies, undiagnosed infections and even long-term exposures to toxic substances. Bredesen's impressive academic credentials lent legitimacy to his approach.
Pan paid $4,000 to a doctor trained in Bredesen's program for a consultation and a series of extensive laboratory tests, then was referred to another doctor, who devised a stringent regimen of dietary changes that entailed cutting out all sugars, eating a high-fat, low-carbohydrate diet and adhering to a complex regimen of meditation, vigorous daily exercise and about a dozen nutritional supplements each day (at about $200 a month). Pan said she had extensive mold remediation done in her home after the Bredesen doctors told her the substance could be hurting her husband's brain.
But two years passed, she said, and her husband, Wayne, was steadily declining. To make matters worse, he had lost more than 60 pounds because he didn't like the food on the diet. In April, he died.
"I imagine it works in some people and doesn't work in others," said Pan, who lives in Oakton, Virginia. "But there's no way to tell ahead of time if it will work for you."
Bredesen wrote the best-selling 2017 book "The End of Alzheimer's" and has promoted his ideas in talks to community groups around the country and in radio and TV appearances like "The Dr. Oz Show." He has also started his own company, Apollo Health, to market his program and train and provide referrals for practitioners.
Unlike other self-help regimens, Bredesen said, his program is an intensely personalized and scientific approach to counteract each individual's specific deficits by "optimizing the physical body and understanding the molecular drivers of the disease," he told KHN in a November phone interview. "The vast majority of people improve" as long as they adhere to the regimen.
Bredesen's peers acknowledge him as an expert on aging. A former postdoctoral fellow under Nobel laureate Stanley Prusiner at the University of California-San Francisco, Bredesen presided over a well-funded lab at UCLA for more than five years. He has been on the UCLA faculty since 1989 and also founded the Buck Institute for Research on Aging in Marin County. He has written or co-authored more than 200 papers.
But colleagues are critical of what they see as his commercial promotion of a largely unproven and costly regimen. They say he strays from long-established scientific norms by relying on anecdotal reports from patients, rather than providing evidence with rigorous research.
"He's an exceptional scientist," said George Perry, a neuroscientist at the University of Texas-San Antonio. "But monetizing this is a turnoff."
"I have seen desperate patients and family members clean out their bank accounts and believe this will help them with every ounce of their being," said Dr. Joanna Hellmuth, a neurologist in the Memory and Aging Center at UCSF. "They are clinging to hope."
Many of the lifestyle changes Bredesen promotes are known to be helpful. "The protocol itself is based on very low-quality data, and I worry that vulnerable patients and family members may not understand that," said Hellmuth. "He trained here" — at UCSF — "so he knows better."
The Bredesen package doesn't come cheap. He has built a network of practitioner-followers by training them in his protocol — at $1,800 a pop — in seminars sponsored by the Institute for Functional Medicine, which emphasizes alternative approaches to managing disease. Apollo Health also offers two-week training sessions for a $1,500 fee.
Once trained in his ReCODE Protocol, medical professionals charge patients upward of $300 for a consultation and as much as $10,500 for eight- to 15-month treatment packages. For the ReCODE protocol, aimed at people already suffering from early-stage Alzheimer's disease or mild cognitive decline, Apollo Health charges an initial $1,399 fee for a referral to a local practitioner that includes an assessment and extensive laboratory tests. Apollo then offers $75-per-month subscriptions that provide cognitive games and online support, and links to another company that offers dietary supplements for an additional $150 to $450 a month. Insurance generally covers little of these costs.
Apollo Health, founded in 1998 and headquartered in Burlingame, California, also offers a protocol geared toward those who have a family history of dementia or want to prevent cognitive decline.
Bredesen estimates that about 5,000 people have done the ReCODE program. The fees are a bargain, Bredesen said, if they slow decline enough to prevent someone from being placed in a nursing home, where yearly costs can climb past $100,000 annually.
Bredesen and his company are tapping into the desperation that has grown out of the failure of a decades-long scientific quest for effective Alzheimer's treatments. Much of the research money in the field has narrowly focused on amyloid — the barnacle-like gunk that collects outside nerve cells and interferes with the brain's signaling system — as the main culprits behind cognitive decline. Drugmakers have tried repeatedly, and thus far without much success, to invent a trillion-dollar anti-amyloid drug. There's been less emphasis in the field on the lifestyle choices that Bredesen stresses.
"Amyloids sucked up all the air in the room," said Dr. Lon Schneider, an Alzheimer's researcher and a professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at the Keck School of Medicine at USC.
Growing evidence shows lifestyle changes help delay the progress of the mind-robbing disease. An exhaustive Lancet report in August identified a long list of risk factors for dementia, including excessive drinking, exposure to air pollution, obesity, loss of hearing, smoking, depression, lack of exercise and social isolation. Controlling these factors — which can be done on the cheap — could delay or even prevent up to 40% of dementia cases, according to the report.
Bredesen's program involves all these practices, with personalized bells and whistles like intermittent fasting, meditation and supplements. Bredesen's scientific peers question whether data supports his micromanaged approach over plain-vanilla healthy living.
Bredesen has publishedthree papersshowing positive results in many patients following his approach, but critics say he has fallen short of proving his method's effectiveness.
The papers lack details on which protocol elements were followed, or the treatment duration, UCSF's Hellmuth said. Nor do they explain how cognitive tests were conducted or evaluated, so it's difficult to gauge whether improvements were due to the intervention, to chance variations in performance or an assortment of other variables, she said.
Bredesen shrugs off the criticism: "We want things to be in an open-access journal so everybody can read it. These are still peer-reviewed journals. So what's the problem?"
Another problem raised about Bredesen's enterprise is the lack of quality control, which he acknowledges. Apollo-trained "certified practitioners" can include everyone from nurses and dietitians to chiropractors and health coaches. Practitioners with varying degrees of training and competence can take his classes and hang out a shingle. That's a painful fact for some who buy the package.
"I had the impression these practitioners were certified, but I realize they all had just taken a two-week course," said a Virginia man who requested anonymity to protect his wife's privacy. He said that he had spent more than $15,000 on tests and treatments for his ailing spouse and that six months into the program, earlier this year, she had failed to improve.
Bredesen said he and his staff were reviewing "who's getting the best results and who's getting the worst results," and intended to cut poor performers out of the network. "We'll make it so that you can only see the people getting the best results," he said.
Colleagues say that to test whether Bredesen's method works it needs to be subjected to a placebo-controlled study, the gold standard of medical research, in which half the participants get the treatment while the other half don't.
In the absence of rigorous studies, said USC's Schneider, a co-author of the Lancet report, "saying you can 'end Alzheimer's now and this is how you do it' is overpromising and oversimplifying. And a lot of it is just common sense."
Bredesen no longer says his method can end Alzheimer's, despite the title of his book. Apollo Health's website still makes that claim, however.
The Rochester Healthy Community Partnership has been working to reduce health disparities in the area's immigrant communities, including Somali, Hispanic, Cambodian, South Sudanese and Ethiopian residents, for 15 years.
This article was published on Thursday, December 17, 2020 in Kaiser Health News.
MINNEAPOLIS — Gloria Torres-Herbeck gets the flu vaccine every year, but the 53-year-old teacher in Rochester, Minnesota, isn't yet convinced she wants to be first in line for a potential COVID-19 vaccine.
"I'm not super old, but I'm not as strong as other people," she said. "So, I need to be realistic on my own situation. Do I want to participate in something that might be a big risk for me?"
This month, the Food and Drug Administration gave emergency use authorization for one vaccine and is weighing approval of another. So, public health officials around the country are gearing up for what might be as challenging as figuring out how to store a vaccine at 70 degrees below zero Celsius. They need to persuade people who are part of communities that have been hit hard by the virus — those in low-income families and some minority populations, especially Black and Latino residents — to take a vaccine developed in less than a year and approved under emergency use authorization.
Yet there are a few places where officials think they have a head start. Rochester, Minnesota, home of the Mayo Clinic, is one of them. The Rochester Healthy Community Partnership has been working to reduce health disparities in the area's immigrant communities, including Somali, Hispanic, Cambodian, South Sudanese and Ethiopian residents, for 15 years.
The partnership is composed of Mayo health providers and researchers, county public health officials and community volunteers like Torres-Herbeck, who immigrated to the U.S. 27 years ago from Mexico. One of the first of its kind, other similar efforts have sprung up around the country, but no one officially tracks such partnerships.
"What we realized when the pandemic hit in spades in March was that with long-established partnerships we were uniquely positioned to leverage" trust built up over the years between Mayo experts and their community partners, said Dr. Mark Wieland, who helps direct the group and studies the impact of such partnerships. "We realized we were obligated to jump in with two feet."
Although only preliminary evidence has been gathered so far, there are indications that since the efforts began, Rochester has increased COVID-19 testing, improved contact tracing and boosted preventive behaviors such as mask-wearing, hand-washing and physical distancing in these vulnerable communities, he said. The group is hoping those early successes portend well for vaccine acceptance.
Learning From a Measles Outbreak
The Rochester partnership is banking on a commonsense approach that focuses on shared values, transparency and clear communication.
It's a strategy that has succeeded in the past.
When a measles epidemic hit the large Somali population in Minneapolis-St. Paul in 2017, the Mayo Clinic reached out to community leaders among the 25,000 Somali immigrants in the Rochester area. Many had been frightened of the measles vaccine by baseless claims that it could cause autism, and vaccination rates were low in the community. Medical experts held town hall meetings in mosques and community centers, answering questions about vaccine safety and reassuring people that there was no scientific evidence of a link to autism. Somali actors created YouTube videos to help address common concerns. In the end, there were no recorded cases of measles in Olmsted County, home to Rochester.
About a year ago, Dr. Robert Jacobson, medical director for the Population Health Science Program at Mayo Clinic, at the request of a rabbi visited an Orthodox Jewish community in New York in which vaccine refusal was fueling another measles outbreak. He helped healthcare leaders there allay concerns.
"The Orthodox Jews in that community were refusing that vaccine for the same reason we were recommending it," Jacobson said. "They were trying to protect their children."
Efforts by Jewish leaders, public health experts such as Jacobson and lawmakers who tightened up laws on vaccine exemptions helped quell the outbreak.
Since March, the Rochester partnership has broadcast similar messages about COVID-19 to diverse audiences. Fear or misunderstanding was an issue at the beginning of the pandemic. Health leaders found that members of the immigrant communities were hanging up when the public health department called. So, the partnership developed messaging in several languages to explain the importance of the phone calls. They worked around problems, including that other languages don't always have terms that mesh with English words for illnesses. For example, the word for "cold" and "flu" is the same in Somali.
Now fewer people hang up.
At the same time, these public health teams report back to the medical experts on what the community needs. "They're the experts on the subtleties of their communities," Wieland said.
So when the group learned that many immigrants were intimidated by COVID-19 testing and unsure of the logistics, the group recommended simplifying the process: Now, videos featuring community leaders on social media direct people to testing sites. Once there, anyone who doesn't speak English automatically gets tested — no identification or insurance card necessary.
"We think that's part of the reason that, as a county, we have overtested minority populations in relation to white populations," Wieland said.
The 'Why' Was Missing
Only 40% of older Black adults and 51% of older Hispanics said they are somewhat or very likely to get the COVID-19 vaccination — compared with 63% of older white people, a University of Michigan poll shows. Their concerns mirror Torres-Herbeck's: how well will the vaccine work or how safe it will be.
An even more recent survey of people of all ages for the COVID Collaborative, an advocacy group of national and state health and economic leaders, the NAACP and other groups shows trust in vaccine safety is as low as 14% in Black Americans and 34% in Latinos.
Older adults said they would like recommendations from doctors, health officials, or family and friends — people they trust, according to the Michigan poll. And Black Americans are twice as likely to trust Black messengers versus white messengers, the other survey showed.
"Even if people don't trust doctors in general, they trust their own doctor," said Dr. Preeti Malani, one of the authors of the Michigan survey and chief health officer of the university.
The advantage of groups like the Rochester partnership is that its members are also trusted messengers.
Several weeks ago, Torres-Herbeck said, she talked to a landscaper who didn't wear a mask while working with his business partner. She told him that COVID-19 is a virus and explained how it spreads. He was surprised, and Torres-Herbeck understood. "When I came here 27 years ago, we were not as educated on that," she said. "When I grew up, it was believed that if you walk barefoot you will catch a cold."
Often, she said, public health officials provide directions on how to act and what to do, such as use a mask and clean your hands, but don't explain why.
"That 'why' was missing for him," she said.
Now when she talks to him, he puts a mask on.
In mid-November, Jacobson visited with members of the Rochester partnership via Zoom, part of the group's initial effort to disseminate vaccine information.
Approving a vaccine under emergency use authorization is no less stringent than the normal procedure, he explained. The process has been dramatically sped up and condensed, he said, by the amount of money poured in and newer technology — and by increased FDA resources.
It's not all about disseminating facts, however. Focusing on shared values is key to building trust. So when Adeline Abbenyi, the Mayo Clinic program manager for the Center for Healthy Equity and Community Engagement Research, said her mother, who had never feared vaccines, was hesitant to get a COVID-19 vaccine, Jacobson understood.
"A lot of us are feeling the same way," Jacobson said in that Zoom meeting. "I go into this optimistic that we will have a vaccine that's safe and effective, but I won't use it until I see that evidence" of safety and efficacy the FDA is reviewing.
It's normal for people to hesitate, he said, but that is far different from — and more widespread than — the anti-vaccine movement. Doctors and nurses getting the first doses will likely help many people overcome that hesitancy, he said.
Indeed, one thing that would persuade Torres-Herbeck to be inoculated? Seeing Jacobson get the vaccine, she said.
A Florida taxi driver and his wife had seen enough conspiracy theories online to believe the virus was overblown, maybe even a hoax. So no masks for them. Then they got sick. She died. A college lecturer had trouble refilling her lupus drug after the president promoted it as a treatment for the new disease. A hospital nurse broke down when an ICU patient insisted his illness was nothing worse than the flu, oblivious to the silence in beds next door.
Lies infected America in 2020. The very worst were not just damaging, but deadly.
President Donald Trump fueled confusion and conspiracies from the earliest days of the coronavirus pandemic. He embraced theories that COVID-19 accounted for only a small fraction of the thousands upon thousands of deaths. He undermined public health guidance for wearing masks and cast Dr. Anthony Fauci as an unreliable flip-flopper.
But the infodemic was not the work of a single person.
Anonymous bad actors offered up junk science. Online skeptics made bogus accusations that hospitals padded their coronavirus case numbers to generate bonus payments. Influential TV and radio opinion hosts told millions of viewers that physical distancing was a joke and that states had all of the personal protective equipment they needed (when they didn’t).
It was a symphony of counter-narrative, and Trump was the conductor, if not the composer. The message: The threat to your health was overhyped to hurt the political fortunes of the president.
Every year, PolitiFact editors review the year’s most inaccurate statements to elevate one as the Lie of the Year. The “award” goes to a statement, or a collection of claims, that prove to be of substantive consequence in undermining reality.
It has become harder and harder to choose when cynical pundits and politicians don’t pay much of a price for saying things that aren’t true. For the past month, unproven claims of massive election fraud have tested democratic institutions and certainly qualify as historic and dangerously baldfaced. Fortunately, the constitutional foundations that undergird American democracy are holding.
Meanwhile, the coronavirus has killed more than300,000 in the United States, a crisis exacerbated by the reckless spread of falsehoods.
PolitiFact’s 2020 Lie of the Year: claims that deny, downplay or disinform about COVID-19.
‘I Wanted to Always Play It Down’
On Feb. 7, Trump leveled with book author Bob Woodward about the dangers of the new virus that was spreading across the world, originating in central China. He told the legendary reporter that the virus was airborne, tricky and “more deadly than even your strenuous flus.”
Trump told the public something else. On Feb. 26, the president appeared with his coronavirus task force in the crowded White House briefing room. A reporter asked if he was telling healthy Americans not to change their behavior.
“Wash your hands, stay clean. You don’t have to necessarily grab every handrail unless you have to,” he said, the room chuckling. “I mean, view this the same as the flu.”
Three weeks later, March 19, he acknowledged to Woodward: “To be honest with you, I wanted to always play it down. I still like playing it down. Because I don’t want to create a panic.”
His acolytes in politics and the media were on the same page. Rush Limbaugh told his audience of about 15 million on Feb. 24 that the coronavirus was being weaponized against Trump when it was just “the common cold, folks.” That’s wrong — even in the early weeks, it was clear the virus had a higher fatality rate than the common cold, with worse potential side effects, too.
As the virus was spreading, so was the message to downplay it.
“There are lots of sources of misinformation, and there are lots of elected officials besides Trump that have not taken the virus seriously or promoted misinformation,” said Brendan Nyhan, a government professor at Dartmouth College. “It’s not solely a Trump story — and it’s important to not take everyone else’s role out of the narrative.”
The skeptics cited Centers for Disease Control and Prevention data to claim that only 6% of COVID-19 deaths could actually be attributed to the virus. On Aug. 24, BlazeTV host Steve Deace amplified it on Facebook.
“Here’s the percentage of people who died OF or FROM Covid with no underlying comorbidity,” he said to his 120,000 followers. “According to CDC, that is just 6% of the deaths WITH Covid so far.”
That misrepresented the reality of coronavirus deaths. The CDC had always said people with underlying health problems — comorbidities — were most vulnerable if they caught COVID-19. The report was noting that 6% died even without being at obvious risk.
But for those skeptical of COVID-19, the narrative confirmed their beliefs. Facebook users copied and pasted language from influencers like Amiri King, who had 2.2 million Facebook followers before he was banned. The Gateway Pundit called it a “SHOCK REPORT.”
“I saw a statistic come out the other day, talking about only 6% of the people actually died from COVID, which is very interesting — that they died from other reasons,” Trump told Fox News host Laura Ingraham on Sept. 1.
Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, addressed the claim on “Good Morning America” the same day.
“The point that the CDC was trying to make was that a certain percentage of them had nothing else but just COVID,” he said. “That does not mean that someone who has hypertension or diabetes who dies of COVID didn’t die of COVID-19 — they did.”
Trump retweeted the message from an account that sported the slogans and symbols of QAnon, a conspiracy movement that claims Democrats and Hollywood elites are members of an underground pedophilia ring.
False information moved between social media, Trump and TV, creating its own feedback loop.
“It’s an echo effect of sorts, where Donald Trump is certainly looking for information that resonates with his audiences and that supports his political objectives. And his audiences are looking to be amplified, so they’re incentivized to get him their information,” said Kate Starbird, an associate professor and misinformation expert at the University of Washington.
Weakening the Armor: Misleading on Masks
At the start of the pandemic, the CDC told healthy people not to wear masks, saying they were needed for health care providers on the front lines. But on April 3 the agency changed its guidelines, saying every American should wear non-medical cloth masks in public.
Trump announced the CDC’s guidance, then gutted it.
“So it’s voluntary. You don’t have to do it. They suggested for a period of time, but this is voluntary,” Trump said at a press briefing. “I don’t think I’m going to be doing it.”
Rather than an advance in best practices on coronavirus prevention, face masks turned into a dividing line between Trump’s political calculations and his decision-making as president. Americans didn’t see Trump wearing a mask until a July visit to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.
In September, the CDC reported a correlation between people who went to bars and restaurants, where masks can’t consistently be worn, and positive COVID-19 test results. Bloggers and skeptical news outlets countered with a misleading report about masks.
On Oct. 13, the story landed on Fox News’ flagship show, “Tucker Carlson Tonight.” During the show, Carlson claimed “almost everyone — 85% — who got the coronavirus in July was wearing a mask.”
“So clearly [wearing a mask] doesn’t work the way they tell us it works,” Carlson said.
That’s wrong, and it misrepresented a small sample of people who tested positive.Public health officials and infectious disease experts have been consistent since April in saying that face masks are among the best ways to prevent the spread of COVID-19.
But two days later, Trump repeated the 85% stat during a rally and at a town hall with NBC’s Savannah Guthrie.
“I tell people, wear masks,” he said at the town hall. “But just the other day, they came out with a statement that 85% of the people that wear masks catch it.”
The Assault on Hospitals
On March 24, registered nurse Melissa Steiner worked her first shift in the new COVID-19 ICU of her southeastern Michigan hospital. After her 13-hour workday caring for two critically ill patients on ventilators, she posted a tearful video.
“Honestly, guys, it felt like I was working in a war zone,” Steiner said. “[I was] completely isolated from my team members, limited resources, limited supplies, limited responses from physicians because they’re just as overwhelmed.”
“I’m already breaking, so for f—’s sake, people, please take this seriously. This is so bad.”
Steiner’s post was one of manyemotionalpleas offered by overwhelmed hospital workers last spring urging people to take the threat seriously. The denialists mounted a counteroffensive.
On March 28, Todd Starnes, a conservative radio host and commentator, tweeted a video from outside Brooklyn Hospital Center. There were few people or cars in sight.
“This is the ‘war zone’ outside the hospital in my Brooklyn neighborhood,” Starnes said sarcastically. The video racked up more than 1.5 million views.
Starnes’ video was one of the first examples of #FilmYourHospital, a conspiratorial social media trend that pushed back on the idea that hospitals had been strained by a rapid influx of coronavirus patients.
Several internet personalities asked people to go out and shoot their own videos. The result: a series of user-generated clips taken outside hospitals, where the response to the pandemic was not easily seen. Over the course of a week, #FilmYourHospital videos were uploaded to YouTube and posted tens of thousands of times on Twitter and Facebook.
Nearly two weeks and more than 10,000 deaths later, Fox News featured a guest who opened a new misinformation assault on hospitals.
Dr. Scott Jensen, a Minnesota physician and Republican state senator, told Ingraham that, because hospitals were receiving more money for COVID-19 patients on Medicare — a result of a coronavirus stimulus bill — they were overcounting COVID-19 cases. He had no proof of fraud, but the cynical story took off.
Trump used the false report on the campaign trail to continue to minimize the death toll.
“Our doctors get more money if somebody dies from COVID,” Trump told supporters at a rally in Waterford, Michigan, on Oct. 30. “You know that, right? I mean, our doctors are very smart people. So what they do is they say, ‘I’m sorry, but, you know, everybody dies of COVID.’”
The Real Fake News: The Plandemic
The most viral disinformation of the pandemic was styled to look as if it had the blessing of people Americans trust: scientists and doctors.
In a 26-minute video called “Plandemic: The Hidden Agenda Behind COVID-19,” a former scientist at the National Cancer Institute claimed the virus was manipulated in a lab, hydroxychloroquine is effective against coronaviruses, and face masks make people sick.
Judy Mikovits’ conspiracies received more than 8 million views, partly credited to the online outrage machine — anti-vaccine activists, anti-lockdown groups and QAnon supporters — that push disinformation into the mainstream. The video was circulated in a coordinated effort to promote Mikovits’ book release.
Around the same time, a similar effort propelled another video of fact-averse doctors to millions of people in only a few hours.
On July 27, Breitbart publisheda clip of a press conference hosted by a group called America’s Frontline Doctors in front of the U.S. Supreme Court. Looking authoritative in white lab coats, these doctors discouraged mask-wearing and falsely said there was already a cure in hydroxychloroquine, a drug used to treat rheumatoid arthritis and lupus.
Trump, who had been talking up the drug since March and claimed to be taking it himself as a preventive measure in May, retweeted clips of the event before Twitter removed them as misinformation about COVID-19. He defended the “very respected doctors” in a July 28 press conference.
When Olga Lucia Torres, a lecturer at Columbia University, heard Trump touting the drug in March, she knew it didn’t bode well for her own prescription. Sure enough, the misinformation led to a run on hydroxychloroquine, creating a shortage for Americans like her who needed the drug for chronic conditions.
A lupus patient, she went to her local pharmacy to request a 90-day supply of the medication. But she was told they were granting only partial refills. It took her three weeks to get her medication through the mail.
“What about all the people who were silenced and just lost access to their staple medication because people ran to their doctors and begged to take it?” Torres said.
No Sickbed Conversion
On Sept. 26, Trump hosted a Rose Garden ceremony to announce his nominee to replace the late Ruth Bader Ginsburg on the U.S. Supreme Court. More than 150 people attended the event introducing Amy Coney Barrett. Few wore masks, and the chairs weren’t spaced out.
In the weeks afterward, more than two dozenpeople close to Trump and the White House became infected with COVID-19. Early on Oct. 2, Trump announced his positive test.
Those hoping the experience and Trump’s successful treatment at Walter Reed might inform his view of the coronavirus were disappointed. Trump snapped back into minimizing the threat during his first moments back at the White House. He yanked off his mask and recorded a video.
“Don’t let it dominate you. Don’t be afraid of it,” he said, describing experimental and mostly out-of-reach therapies he received. “You’re going to beat it.”
In Trump’s telling, his hospitalization was not the product of poor judgment about large gatherings like the Rose Garden event, but the consequence of leading with bravery. Plus, now, he claimed, he had immunity to the virus.
On the morning after he returned from Walter Reed, Trump tweeted a seasonal flu death count of 100,000 lives and added that COVID-19 was “far less lethal” for most populations. More false claims at odds with data — the U.S. average for flu deaths over the past decade is 36,000, and experts said COVID-19 is more deadly for each age group over 30.
When Trump left the hospital, the U.S. death toll from COVID-19 was more than 200,000. Today it is more than 300,000. Meanwhile, this month the president has gone ahead with a series of indoor holiday parties.
The Vaccine War
The vaccine disinformation campaign started in the spring but is still underway.
In April, blogs and social media users falsely claimed Democrats and powerful figures like Bill Gates wanted to use microchips to track which Americans had been vaccinated for the coronavirus. Now, false claims are taking aim at vaccines developed by Pfizer and BioNTech and other companies.
A blogger claimed Pfizer’s head of research said the coronavirus vaccine could cause female infertility. That’s false.
An alternative health website wrote that the vaccine could cause an array of life-threatening side effects, and that the FDA knew about it. The list included all possible — not confirmed— side effects.
Social media users speculated that the federal government would force Americans to receive the vaccine. Neither Trump nor President-elect Joe Biden has advocated for that, and the federal government doesn’t have the power to mandate vaccines, anyway.
As is often the case with disinformation, the strategy is to deliver it with a charade of certainty.
“People are anxious and scared right now,” said Dr. Seema Yasmin, director of research and education programs at the Stanford Health Communication Initiative. “They’re looking for a whole picture.”
Most polls have shown far from universal acceptance of vaccines, with only 50% to 70% of respondents willing to take the vaccine. Black and Hispanic Americans are even less likely to take it so far.
Meanwhile, the future course of the coronavirus in the U.S. depends on whether Americans take public health guidance to heart. The Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation projected that, without mask mandates or a rapid vaccine rollout, the death toll could rise to more than 500,000 by April 2021.
“How can we come to terms with all that when people are living in separate informational realities?” Starbird said.
PolitiFact staff researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report.
There is no analogue in recent U.S history to the scale of death brought on by the coronavirus, which now runs unchecked in countless towns, cities and states.
This article was published on Tuesday, December 15, 2020 in Kaiser Health News.
By Will Stone
More than 300,000 people have died from COVID-19 in the United States.
It is the latest sign of a generational tragedy — one still unfolding in every corner of the country — that leaves in its wake an expanse of grief that cannot be captured in a string of statistics.
"The numbers do not reflect that these were people," said Brian Walter, of New York City, whose 80-year-old father, John, died from COVID-19. "Everyone lost was a father or a mother, they had kids, they had family, they left people behind."
There is no analogue in recent U.S history to the scale of death brought on by the coronavirus, which now runs unchecked in countless towns, cities and states.
"We're seeing some of the most deadly days in American history," said Dr. Craig Spencer, director of Global Health in Emergency Medicine at NewYork-Presbyterian/Columbia University Medical Center.
During the past two weeks, COVID-19 was the leading cause of death in the U.S., outpacing even heart disease and cancer.
"That should be absolutely stunning," Spencer said. And yet the most deadly days of the pandemic may be to come, epidemiologists predict.
Even with a rapid rollout of vaccines, the U.S. may reach a total of more than half a million deaths by spring, said Ali Mokdad of the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of Washington.
Some of those deaths could still be averted. If everyone simply began wearing face masks, more than 50,000 lives could be saved, IHME's model shows. And physical distancing could make a difference too.
No other country has come close to the calamitous death toll in the U.S. And the disease has amplified entrenched inequalities. Blacks and Hispanics/Latinos are nearly three times more likely to die from COVID-19 than whites.
"I'm really amazed at how we have this sense of apathy," said Dr. Gbenga Ogedegbe, a professor of medicine and population health at New York University Grossman School of Medicine. He said there's evidence that socioeconomic factors, not underlying health problems, explain the disproportionate share of deaths.
The disease, he said, reveals "the chronic neglect of Black and brown communities" in this country.
Though the numbers are numbing, for bereaved families and for front-line workers who care for people in their dying moments, every life is precious.
Here are reflections from people who've witnessed this loss — how they are processing the grief and what they wish the rest of America understood.
'There Are Things We Can Do to Still Make a Difference'
Darrell Owens, a doctor of nursing practice in Seattle, was startled to learn recently that he had signed more death certificates for COVID-19 than anyone else in Washington.
"I'm feeling much more anger and frustration than I did before because much of what we're dealing with now was preventable," Owens said.
"We're all in this great big storm, but some people are in a yacht and some people are on a cruise ship and some people are on a raft," he added. "We're not all in this together."
Owens still finds moments of grace and meaning as he cares for the dying.
"The other day, there was a lady I was taking care of who'd come from a local nursing home and it was very clear that she was nearing the end," Owens said. "I just picked up her hand. I sat there. I held her hand for about 25 minutes until she took her last breath."
He stepped out of the room and called the patient's daughter.
"It made such a difference for her that her mom was not alone," he said. "What an incredible gift that she gave me and that I was able to give her daughter. So there are things that we can do to still make a difference."
'It's Not a Joke. It's Not a Hoax.'
Since his father died of COVID-19 in the spring, Brian Walter of Queens, New York, has helped run a support group on Facebook for people who've lost family and friends to COVID-19.
It's helped him grieve his father John, whom he describes as a very loving man dedicated to his autistic grandson and to running a youth program for teenagers.
"It's been lifesaving in a lot of ways," Walter said. "Together, we face a lot of issues since we are grieving in isolation. But at the same time, we're also dealing with people that openly tell us that this is not a real condition, that this is not a real issue."
Some in their group admit they denied the severity of the virus and shunned precautions until it was too late.
"It's not a joke. It's not a hoax, and you will not understand how horrible this is until it enters your family and takes away someone," he said.
All of this complicates the grief, but it has also led Walter and others in his group to speak out and share their stories, so that numbers don't obscure the actual people who were leading full lives before dying from COVID-19.
"I know what it's like to have to say goodbye to somebody over a Zoom call and to not have a funeral," Walter said.
'300,000 Stories That Got Shut Down Too Quickly'
Martha Phillips, an ER nurse who took assignments in New York and Texas in the spring and summer, said there is one patient who has become almost a stand-in for the grief of the many whose deaths she witnessed.
It was the very last COVID patient she cared for in Houston.
"I reached down to just adjust her oxygen tubing just a little bit," Phillips recalled. "And she looks up at me and she sees me through my goggles and my mask and my shield and meets my eyes and she goes, 'Do you think I'm going to get better?'"
"What do you say to someone who's not ready to die? Who has so much to live for, but got this and now they're trapped?"
Two months later, Phillips discovered the woman's obituary online.
"That one was the hardest," she said. "But there's 300,000 people who had time left that was stolen from them; 300,000 stories that got shut down too quickly."
'This Is Worse Than Being in War'
ER physician Dr. Cleavon Gilman, a veteran of the Iraq War, said it's still hard to communicate the brutality of a disease that kills people in the privacy of a hospital wing.
When Gilman was in New York City during the spring surge, he never imagined the U.S. would be losing thousands of people each day to COVID-19 so many months later.
"That 300,000 Americans would be dead and life would go on and people would not have empathy for their fellow Americans," he said. "I can tell you this is worse than being in war."
The enemy is invisible, he said, the war zone is everywhere, and many refuse to take the most simple actions to combat the virus, even as morgues fill up in their own community.
Throughout the pandemic, Gilman, who is now working in Yuma, Arizona, has shared photos and stories of people who've died from COVID-19 each day on social media. "It's really important to honor them," he said.
This story is from a reporting partnership with NPR and KHN.
If clinical trials for COVID-19 vaccines aren't expanded soon to include children, it's unlikely that even kids in their teens will be vaccinated in time for the next school year.
The hurdle is that COVID vaccine makers are only in the early stages of testing their products on children. The Pfizer vaccine authorized for use by the Food and Drug Administration on Friday was greenlighted only for people ages 16 and up. Moderna just started trials for 12- to 17-year-olds for its vaccine, likely to be authorized later this month.
It will take months to approve use of the vaccines for middle- and high school-aged kids, and months more to test them in younger children. But some pediatricians say that concerns about the safety of the front-runner vaccines make the wait worthwhile.
Although most pediatricians believe the eventual vaccination of children will be crucial to subduing the COVID virus, they're split on how fast to move toward that, says Dr. James Campbell, professor of pediatrics at the University of Maryland School of Medicine's Center for Vaccine Development and Global Health. Campbell and colleagues say it's a matter of urgency to get the vaccines tested in kids, while others want to hold off on those trials until millions of adults have been safely vaccinated.
Much of the debate centers on two issues: the degree of harm COVID-19 causes children, and the extent to which children are spreading the virus to their friends, teachers, parents and grandparents.
COVID-19's impact on children represents a tiny fraction of the suffering and death experienced by vulnerable adults. Yet it would qualify as a pretty serious childhood disease, having caused 154 deaths and more than 7,500 hospitalizations as of Dec. 3 among people 19 and younger in the United States. Those numbers rank it as worse than a typical year of influenza, and worse than diseases like mumps or hepatitis B in children before the vaccination era.
Studies thus far show that 1%-2% of children infected with the virus end up requiring intensive care, Dr. Stanley Plotkin, professor emeritus of pediatrics at the University of Pennsylvania, told a federal panel. That's in line with the percentage who become gravely ill as result of infections like Haemophilus influenza type B, or Hib, for which doctors have vaccinated children since the 1980s, he pointed out.
Campbell, who with colleagues has developed a plan for how to run pediatric COVID vaccine trials, points out that "in a universe where COVID mainly affected children the way it's affecting them now, and we had potential vaccines, people would be clamoring for them."
The evidence that teens can transmit the disease is pretty clear, and transmission has been documented in children as young as 8. Fear of spread by children has been enough to close schools, and led the American Academy of Pediatrics to demandthat children be quickly included in vaccine testing.
"The longer we take to start kids in trials, the longer it will take them to get vaccinated and to break the chains of transmission," said Dr. Yvonne Maldonado, a professor of pediatrics at Stanford University who chairs the AAP's infectious disease committee. "If you want kids to go back to school and not have the teachers union terrified, you have to make sure they aren't a risk."
Other pediatricians worry that early pediatric trials could backfire. Dr. Cody Meissner, chief of pediatric infectious diseases at Tufts Medical Center and a member of the FDA's advisory committee on vaccines, is worried that whatever causes Multisystem Inflammatory Syndrome in Children, a rare but frightening COVID-related disorder, might also be triggered, however rarely, by vaccination.
Meissner abstained from the committee's vote Thursday that supported, by a 17-4 vote, an emergency authorization of the Pfizer vaccine for people 16 and older.
"I have trouble justifying it for children so unlikely to get the disease," he said during debate on the measure.
But panel member Dr. Ofer Levy, director of the Precision Vaccines Program at Boston Children's Hospital, said the 16-and-up authorization would speed the vaccine's testing in and approval for younger children. That is vital for the world's protection from COVID-19, he said, since in the United States and most places "most vaccines are delivered early in life."
While vaccines given to tens of thousands of people so far appear to be safe, the lack of understanding of the inflammatory syndrome means that children in any trials should be followed closely, said Dr. Emily Erbelding, director of the Division of Microbiology and Infectious Diseases at the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases.
Under a 2003 law, vaccine companies are required eventually to test all their products on children. By late last month, Pfizer had vaccinated approximately 100 children 12-15 years of age, said spokesperson Jerica Pitts.
Moderna has started enrolling 3,000 children 12 and over in another clinical trial, and other companies have similar plans. Assuming the trials show the vaccines are safe and provide a good immune response, future tests could include progressively younger children, moving to, say, 6- to 12-year-olds next, then 2- to 6-year-olds. Eventually, trials could include younger toddlers and infants.
Similar stepdown approaches were taken to test vaccines against human papillomavirus (HPV), influenza and other diseases in the past, Erbelding noted. Such trials are easiest to conduct when researchers know that a measurable immune response, like antibody levels in the blood, translates to effective protection against disease. Armed with such knowledge, they can see whether children were protected without them having to be exposed to the virus. Federal scientists hope to get that data from the Moderna and Pfizer adult vaccine trials, she said.
Vaccine trials geared to tweens or younger children may involve testing half-doses, which, if protective, would require less vaccine and might cause fewer incidents of sore arms and fevers that afflicted many who've received the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines, Campbell said.
But unless additional studies begin quickly, the window for having an FDA-authorized vaccine available before the next school year "will be closed even for our oldest children," said Dr. Evan Anderson, a pediatrics professor at Emory University. "Our younger children are almost certainly going into next school year without a vaccine option available for them."
In the meantime, teachers are likely to be high on the priority list for vaccination. Protecting school staff could allow more schools to reopen even if most children can't be vaccinated, Erbelding said.
Eventually, if the SARS-CoV-2 virus remains in circulation, governments may want to mandate childhood vaccination against the virus to protect them as they grow up and protect society as a whole, Plotkin said.
In the 1960s, Plotkin invented the rubella vaccine that has been given to hundreds of millions of children since. Like COVID-19, rubella, or German measles, is not usually a serious illness for children. But congenital rubella syndrome afflicted babies in the womb with blindness, deafness, developmental delays and autism. Immunizing toddlers, which, in turn, protects their pregnant mothers, has indirectly prevented hundreds of thousands of such cases.
"We don't want to use children to protect everyone in the community," said Campbell. "But when you can protect both children and their community, that's important."
And while a coronavirus infection may not be bad for most children, missed school, absent friends and distanced families have caused them immense suffering, he said.
"It's a huge burden on a child to have their entire world flipped around," Campbell said. "If vaccinating could help to flip it back, we should begin testing to see if that's possible."
In the final weeks before the Nov. 3 election, supporters of a down-in-the-weeds effort to overturn a tax law in Colorado received a cascade of big checks, for a grand total of more than $2 million.
All came from Kent Thiry, the former CEO of DaVita, one of the largest kidney care companies in the country. This was not the first time he donated big to a ballot initiative aimed at tweaking the nitty-gritty details of how Colorado functions. Nor will it be the last.
Thiry hasgiven at least $5.9 million to Colorado ballot measures since 2011 — and all of them won, according to a KHN review of Colorado campaign finance data. According to data from the National Institute on Money in Politics, Thiry's donations to ballot measures in that state are second only to those of billionaire Pat Stryker, an heiress whose grandfather founded a medical technology company. Campaign finance records show that before that, he gave to ballot issue committees in California, where he used to live, dating to at least 2007.
It's the same playbook his former company has successfully used in California. As KHN has reported, in 2018 DaVita was among several companies to break an industry record in campaign spending for a ballot measure by any one side in California. This year, the industry came close to breaking that record to defeat a measure that would have further regulated dialysis clinics and that DaVita said would have limited access to care.
"Wealthy individuals have been pouring money into ballot measures, even seemingly unrelated to their industry, for over a century," Daniel Smith, a political scientist studying direct democracy at the University of Florida, wrote in an email to KHN.
Given that healthcare is a $3.6 trillion industry, its top executives are among the ranks of those who can have an enormous impact in ballot measure politics. This year, Kent Thiry and Mike Fernandez, chairman and CEO of private equity firm MBF Healthcare Partners, were among the 19 individuals or couples who spent $1 million or more on ballot issue campaigns this year, according to Bloomberg. In previous elections, medical equipment company owner Loren Parks has also given big money to ballot initiatives.
Overall, those in the health industry have spent more on ballot measures in Colorado than in any other state except Missouri and California, according to data from the National Institute on Money in Politics, and that's largely due to Thiry.
"He really has become the 800-pound gorilla of the ballot initiative process in Colorado," said Josh Penry, a Republican campaign strategist in Denver who has worked with Thiry, including on a ballot measure campaign Thiry helped fund. "He wields more power in an informal way than virtually all the elected officials, if you look at the impact he's had."
Even though Thiry and his wife, Denise O'Leary, a former venture capitalist on the board of directors of medical device company Medtronic, have madehefty earnings from healthcare, Thiry's ballot initiative donations as an individual have nothing to do with the industry.
"I prefer things that have systemic impact," said Thiry. Measures he has bankrolled have eliminated the caucus system for presidential primaries, brought unaffiliated voters into the primaries and created a system intended to eliminate gerrymandering.
"Democracy is not a spectator sport," he said.
Thiry previously donated to ballot measure committees in California, to prevent changes to term limits and to create a system for redistricting led jointly by Democrats, Republicans and citizens unaffiliated with a political party.
After moving his company's headquarters from Los Angeles to Denver in 2010, he began backing ballot measures in his new state, too, with equal success and bigger sums, jumping from the tens of thousands to the millions. He spent more than $2 million backing a pair of measures to allow unaffiliated voters to participate in primaries.
In 2018, while his company was helping break an election spending record to defeat a California measure that would have cappedthe industry's profits, Thiry was putting more than $1.2 million toward redistricting efforts in Colorado very similar to the one he backed in his previous home state to help reduce gerrymandering.
His latest donations went to a measure that successfully overturned a tax law from the 1980s that may have helped Colorado homeowners, but which critics saidleft public services like education and fire districts underfunded in some rural areas.
Thiry doesn't just shell out cash. As the online newspaper The Colorado Independent has pointed out, Thiry's offices played a large role in bringing two warring groups with different ideas about redistricting to the same table. His efforts tend to revolve around raising the power of unaffiliated voters, who make up about 40% of Colorado's active voters, according to state data.
Fernandez, the private equity billionaire, said he has similar motivations. He donated $7.3 million to a Florida initiative to change how primaries work in that state and bring unaffiliated voters like himself into the fold.
"I've never spent so much money [on] something that I have no business reason to be in at all," he said.
The effort was, he said, nearly "a one-man show" in terms of financing. But it still failed, garnering 57% of votes when it needed 60% to pass. Fernandez said he'll try again in 2022.
"I come from a country where you can see that control of a government by a single party is deadly," said Fernandez, who was born in Cuba. "Florida has been controlled by the Republican Party for the last three decades. And when I was a Republican, that was great."
But, he said, it quickly became clear that bringing the issue to legislators was a dead end. That's expected, according to John Matsusaka, executive director of the Initiative and Referendum Institute at the University of Southern California. Ballot initiatives are a natural route to tweak electoral machinery, he said, because legislators have a conflict of interest on issues like gerrymandering and term limits.
"I don't look at ballot propositions as a way to drive a progressive agenda or conservative agenda or any sort of agenda," he said. "I view it as a way to put the people in control. And they can go where they want to go."
Even if that means eroding their own power a little. One of the first initiatives Thiry donated to in Colorado is something Matsusaka considers "anti-democracy" — an effort called Raise the Bar, a ballot initiative about ballot initiatives. Itrequired petitioners to get signatures from every corner of the state to put an initiative on the ballot. Some view this as problematic.
"You have to now collect signatures in every senate district of Colorado," said Corrine Rivera Fowler, director of policy and legal advocacy with the Ballot Initiative Strategy Center, a national organization that supports progressive ballot initiatives. "That's a tremendous undertaking for grassroots communities."
Thiry, meanwhile, intends to take what he's learned in Colorado and apply it elsewhere. He said he's getting more involved in several national democracy reform groups, including Unite America, an effort to break what's been called the "doom loop" of partisanship. Thiry said he hopes to help create "a tidal tsunami of political momentum."
"One of my goals is to have this democracy reform energy in places like Colorado — or elsewhere — move from being an ad hoc collection of activist projects to a true movement," he said. "Kind of like the civil rights movement, kind of like the gay marriage movement, and like the #MeToo movement or Black Lives Matter."
He no longer works for DaVita, after stepping down as executive chairman earlier this year.
"I have no title anymore. Just 'citizen.' It's a title I wear with great pride and energy," he said.
As for the next measure Thiry will back, he's open to recommendations.
[Update: This article was revised at 10:15 a.m. ET on Dec. 14, 2020, to provide more context on billionaire Pat Stryker.]
If there's such a thing as a date with destiny, it's marked on Dr. Taison Bell's calendar.
At noon Tuesday, Bell, a critical care physician, is scheduled to be one of the first healthcare workers at the University of Virginia Health System to roll up his sleeve for a shot to ward off the coronavirus.
"This is a long time coming," said Bell, 37, who signed up via hospital email last week. "The story of this crisis is that each week feels like a year. This is really the first time that there's genuine hope that we can turn the corner on this."
For now, that hope is limited to a chosen few. Bell provides direct care to some of the sickest COVID-19 patients at the UVA Health hospital in Charlottesville, Virginia. But he is among some 12,000 "patient-facing" workers at his hospital who could be eligible for about 3,000 early doses of vaccine, said Dr. Costi Sifri, director of hospital epidemiology.
"We're trying to come up with the highest-risk categories, those who really spend a significant amount of time taking care of patients," Sifri said. "It doesn't account for everybody."
Even as the federal Food and Drug Administration engaged in intense deliberations ahead of Friday's authorization of the Pfizer and BioNTech COVID vaccine, and days before the initial 6.4 million doses were to be released, hospitals across the country have been grappling with how to distribute the first scarce shots.
An advisory committee of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has recommended that top priority go to long-term care facilities and front-line healthcare workers, but the early allocation was always expected to fall far short of the need and require selective screening even among critical hospital workers.
Hospitals in general are advised to target the members of their workforce at highest risk, but the institutions are left on their own to decide exactly who that will be, Colin Milligan, a spokesperson for the American Hospital Association, said in an email.
"It is clear that the hospitals will not receive enough in the first weeks to vaccinate everyone on their staff, so decisions had to be made," Milligan wrote.
At Intermountain Healthcare in Salt Lake City, the first shots will go to staff members "with the highest risk of contact with COVID-positive patients or their waste," said Dr. Kristin Dascomb, medical director of infection prevention and employee health. Within that group, managers will determine which caregivers are first in line.
At UW Medicine in Seattle, which includes Harborview Medical Center, one early plan called for high-risk staff to be selected randomly to receive first doses, said Dr. Shireesha Dhanireddy, medical director of the infectious disease clinic. But the University of Washington hospital system expects to receive enough doses to vaccinate everyone in that high-risk tier within two weeks, so randomization isn't necessary — for now.
"We are allowing people to schedule themselves," Dhanireddy said, and encouraging staffers to be vaccinated near the end of their workweeks in case they have reactions to the new vaccine.
Trial results have shown the shots frequently produce side effects that, while not debilitating, could cause symptoms such as fever, muscle aches or fatigue that might keep someone home for a day or two.
"We want to make sure that not everybody has the vaccine on the same day so that if there are some side effects, we don't end up being short-staffed," said Sifri, of UVA Health, noting that guidelines call for no more than 25% of any unit to be vaccinated at once.
At UVA Health, once the initial 3,000 doses are distributed, the hospital plans to rely on what Sifri described as "a very strong honor code" to allow staff members to decide where they should be in line. They've been asked to consider professional factors, like the type of work they do, as well as personal risks, such as age or underlying conditions like diabetes.
"We're going to ask team members, using the honor code, to determine what their risk is for COVID and to determine whether they need to have an early vaccine sign-up time or a later vaccine sign-up time," he said.
That plan was chosen after healthcare staff members soundly rejected other options. For instance, few favored a proposal to allocate dosages via a lottery, like the chaotic birthday-based system depicted in the 2011 pandemic horror film "Contagion." "That was the biggest loser," he said.
Hospital officials also stressed they are trying to devise distribution plans that ensure vaccines are allocated equitably among healthcare workers, including the social, racial and ethnic groups that have been disproportionately harmed by COVID-19 infections. That requires thinking beyond front-line doctors and nurses.
At UVA Health, for example, one of the first groups invited to get shots will be 17 workers whose job is to clean rooms in the special pathogens unit where severe COVID cases are treated.
"We acknowledge that everybody is at risk for COVID, everybody is deserving of a vaccine," Sifri said.
In many cases, it will be clear who should go first. For instance, although Dhanireddy is an infectious disease doctor who consults on COVID cases, she is happy to wait to be vaccinated. "I wouldn't put myself in the first group at all," she said. "I think that we need to protect our staff that are really right there with them most of the day — and that's not me."
But hospitals must remain vigilant about relying on workers to prioritize their own access, Dhanireddy cautioned. "Sometimes, self-selection works more for self-advocacy," she said. "It's great that some individuals say they would defer to others, but sometimes that's not actually the case."
For some healthcare workers, not being first in line for vaccination is fine. Because the vaccine initially has been authorized only for emergency use, hospitals won't require employees to be inoculated as part of this first round. Between 70% and 75% of healthcare staff at UVA Health and Intermountain Health would accept a COVID vaccine, internal surveys showed. The rest are unsure — or unwilling.
"There are some that will be immediate acceptors and some who will want to watch and wait," Dascomb said.
Still, hospital officials say they're confident that those who want the vaccine won't have to wait long. Enough doses for roughly 21 million healthcare personnel should be available by early January, according to CDC officials.
Bell, the critical care doctor, said he's grateful to be among the first to receive the vaccine, especially after his parents, who live in Boston, both contracted COVID-19. He has posted about his upcoming appointment on Twitter and said he and other healthcare workers who are among the first in line should be public about the process.
"We'll serve as an example that this is a safe and effective vaccine," he said. "We're letting it go into our bodies. You should let it go into yours, too."
Public health officials are bracing for an additional surge in cases resulting from the millions who, despite CDC advice, traveled home for Thanksgiving.
This article was published on Thursday, December 11, 2020 in Kaiser Health News.
Vivek Kaliraman, who lives in Los Angeles, has celebrated every Christmas since 2002 with his best friend, who lives in Houston. But, this year, instead of boarding an airplane, which felt too risky during the COVID pandemic, he took a car and plans to stay with his friend for several weeks.
The trip — a 24-hour drive — was too much for one day, though, so Kaliraman called seven hotels in Las Cruces, New Mexico — which is about halfway — to ask how many rooms they were filling and what their cleaning and food-delivery protocols were.
“I would call at nighttime and talk to one front desk person and then call again at daytime,” said Kaliraman, 51, a digital health entrepreneur. “I would make sure the two different front desk people I talked to gave the same answer.”
Once he arrived at the hotel he’d chosen, he asked for a room that had been unoccupied the night before. And even though it got cold that night, he left the window open.
Scary Statistics Trigger Strict Precautions
Many Americans, like Kaliraman, who did ultimately make it to Houston, are still planning to travel for the December holidays, despite the nation’s worsening coronavirus numbers.
Last week, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that the weekly COVID hospitalization rate was at its highest point since the beginning of the pandemic. More than 283,000 Americans have died of COVID-19. Public health officials are bracing for an additional surge in cases resulting from the millions who, despite CDC advice, traveled home for Thanksgiving, including the 9 million who passed through airports Nov. 20-29. Hospital wards are quickly reaching capacity. In light of all this, health experts are again urging Americans to stay home for the holidays.
For many, though, travel comes down to a risk-benefit analysis.
According to David Ropeik, author of the book “How Risky Is It, Really?” and an expert in risk perception psychology, it’s important to remember that what’s at stake in this type of situation cannot be exactly quantified.
Our brains perceive risk by looking at the facts of the threat — in this case, contracting or transmitting COVID-19 — and then at the context of our own lives, which often involves emotions, he said. If you personally know someone who died of COVID-19, that’s an added emotional context. If you want to attend a wedding of loved family members, that’s another kind of context.
“Think about it like a seesaw. On one side are all the facts about COVID-19, like the number of deaths,” said Ropeik. “And then on the other side are all the emotional factors. Holidays are a huge weight on the emotional side of that seesaw.”
The people we interviewed for this story said they understand the risk involved. And their reasons for going home differed. Kaliraman likened his journey to see his friend as an important ritual — he hasn’t missed this visit in 19 years.
What’s clear is that many aren’t making the decision to travel lightly.
For Annette Olson, 56, the risk of flying from Washington, D.C., to Tyler, Texas, felt worth it because she needed to help take care of her elderly parents over the holidays.
“In my calculations, I would be less of a risk to them than for them to get a rotating nurse that comes to the house, who has probably worked somewhere else as well and is repeatedly coming and going,” said Olson. “Once I’m here, I’m quarantined.”
Now that she’s with her parents, she’s wearing a mask in common areas of the house until she gets her COVID test results back.
Others plan on quarantining for several weeks before seeing family members — even if, as in Chelsea Toledo’s situation, the family she hopes to see is only an hour’s drive away.
Toledo, 35, lives in Clarkston, Georgia, and works from home. She pulled her 6-year-old daughter out of her in-person learning program after Thanksgiving, in hopes of seeing her mom and stepdad over Christmas. They plan to quarantine for several weeks and get groceries delivered so they won’t be exposed to others before the trip. But whether Toledo goes through with it is still up in the air, and may change based on COVID case rates in their area.
“We’re taking things week by week, or really day by day,” said Toledo. “There is not a plan to see my mom; there is a hope to see my mom.”
And for young adults without families of their own, seeing parents at the holidays feels like a needed mood booster after a difficult year. Rebecca, a 27-year-old who lives in Washington, D.C., drove up with a roommate to New York City to see her parents and grandfather for Hanukkah. (Rebecca asked KHN not to publish her last name because she feared that publicity could negatively affect her job, which is in public health.)
“I’m doing fine, but I think having something to look forward to is really useful. I didn’t want to cancel my trip completely,” said Rebecca. “I’m the only child and grandchild who doesn’t have children. I can control my actions and exposures more than anyone else can.”
She and her two roommates quarantined for two weeks before the drive and also got tested for COVID-19 twice during that time. Now that Rebecca is in New York, she’s also quarantining alone for 10 days and getting tested again before she sees her family.
“I think, based on what I’ve done, it does feel safe,” said Rebecca. “I know the safest thing to do is not to see them, so I do feel a little bit nervous about that.”
But the best-laid plan can still go awry. Tests can return false-negative results and relatives may overlook possible exposure or not buy into the seriousness of the situation. To better understand the potential consequences of the risk you’re taking, Ropeik advises coming up with “personal, visceral” thoughts of the worst thing that could happen.
“Envision Grandma getting sick and dying” or “Grandma in bed and in the hospital and not being able to visit her,” said Ropeik. That will balance the positive emotional pull of the holidays and help you to make a more grounded decision.
Harm Reduction?
All of those interviewed for this story acknowledged that many of the precautions they’re taking are possible only because they enjoy certain privileges, including the ability to work from home, isolate or get groceries delivered — options that may not be available to many, including essential workers and those with low incomes.
Still, Americans are bound to travel over the December holidays. And much like teaching safe-sex practices in schools rather than an abstinence-only approach, it’s important to give out risk mitigation strategies so that “if you’re going to do it, you think about how to do it safely,” said Dr. Iahn Gonsenhauser, chief quality and patient safety officer at the Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center.
First, Gonsenhauser advises that you look at the COVID case numbers in your area, consider whether you are traveling from a higher-risk community to a lower-risk community, and talk to family members about the risks. Also, check whether the state you’re traveling to has quarantine or testing requirements you need to adhere to when you arrive.
Also, make sure you quarantine before your trip — recommendations range from seven to 14 days.
Another thing to remember, Gonsenhauser said, is that a negative COVID test before traveling is not a free pass, and it works only if done in combination with the quarantine period.
Finally, once you’ve arrived at your destination, prepare for what might be the most difficult part: to continue physical distancing, wearing masks and washing your hands. “It’s easy to let our guard down during the holidays, but you need to stay vigilant,” said Gonsenhauser.
On tap is an initial stockpile of vaccines made during the approval process, with federal officials hoping to distribute at least 20 million doses by year’s end.
This article was published on Thursday, December 11, 2020 in Kaiser Health News.
High stakes and big challenges await as the U.S. prepares to roll out vaccines against COVID-19, with front-line health care workers and vulnerable nursing home residents recommended as the top priority.
Doses could be on their way very soon. An independent advisory committee to the Food and Drug Administration on Thursday gave a green light to the first vaccine candidate, made by Pfizer in conjunction with the German company BioNTech — a recommendation expected to be approved by the agency within days. The committee is scheduled to consider a second candidate, made by Moderna, Dec. 17.
On tap is an initial stockpile of vaccines made during the approval process, with federal officials hoping to distribute at least 20 million doses by year’s end.
While that will go a long way toward reaching the top-priority groups — the nation’s 21 million health care workers and 3 million long-term care residents — there won’t be enough to inoculate everyone on Day One, or even the first week.
In Ohio, for example, the governor expects an initial delivery of 98,000 doses, with the state allocating 88,000 of those to long-term care facilities, said Pete Van Runkle, executive director of the Ohio Health Care Association, which represents long-term care facilities.
“It’s more than a drop in the bucket, but it’s not all that’s needed,” said Van Runkle, who estimated there are between 150,000 and 175,000 residents and staff members in long-term care centers in the state.
Consequently, the doses will be distributed in waves, with the centers and hospitals not chosen for the first wave getting them in the coming weeks, he said.
Facilities will have to divvy up the supplies to best address the needs of patients and employees.
For hospitals, first up are likely to be “workers with the greatest exposure” to the virus, said Anna Legreid Dopp, a senior director at the American Society of Health-System Pharmacists, a trade group representing more than 55,000 pharmacists who work for hospitals and health systems.
Then who? Perhaps those with personal medical conditions putting them at higher risk. And there may be other considerations specific to individual hospitals. What if, for example, only two people are trained to run a specialized treatment system in the ICU needed to care for patients seriously ill with COVID-19?
“Are they at the top of the list?” asked Dopp.
Nursing homes have a slightly different calculation because they have fewer employees than hospitals, said Van Runkle.
“It’s more a question of choosing which facilities” will get the initial doses, he said. “Once those are chosen, they’ll vaccinate everyone there [who consents], not pick and choose among people.”
Even so, there may be some selectivity because most nursing home employees are women and many are of child-bearing age. Because the vaccines have not yet been tested on pregnant women, those who are pregnant or breastfeeding may not be eligible in the initial rollout.
Which long-term care facilities get the vaccine first may come down to where they are located in relation to two large pharmacy chains: CVS and Walgreens.
In October, the federal government signed an agreement with CVS and Walgreens to store and administer the vaccines. Most long-term care facilities opted to join the partnership.
Under the agreement, the pharmacist teams will make at least three trips to each nursing home over a couple of months to administer the vaccines, which must be given in two doses, set several weeks apart.
One big hurdle in distributing the two vaccines seeking FDA approval is keeping them cold. The Pfizer vaccine is stored at around 94 degrees below zero, while the Moderna option is kept at minus 4 degrees. CVS expects to keep the vaccine at 1,100 locations around the country that have the required refrigeration technology, said Mike DeAngelis, senior director of corporate communications at CVS Health. From those hubs, teams of pharmacists and pharmacy technicians will take thawed doses of the vaccines to the long-term care facilities and administer them to staff and residents. About 30,000 homes have signed on with CVS for the clinics.
Walgreens expects to administer the vaccinations in more than 23,000 long-term care locations, according to a written statement.
While there’s no charge to the nursing homes or residents, Medicare will pay an administrative fee to CVS and Walgreens of $16.94 for the first shot and $28.39 for the second.
Yet there’s a flip side to the supply equation: What if no one wants to go first?
“That’s what keeps me up at night,” said Dr. Michael Wasserman, the immediate past president of the California Association of Long Term Care Medicine, a group of physicians, nurses, social workers and others who provide care to seniors.
That’s key because a good portion of America must be vaccinated to get to the much-sought-after “herd immunity,” in which most people are protected and the virus finds it difficult to spread.
“What if government and pharmacies do a great job in getting vaccine to the front door, then no one takes it?” Wasserman worries.
Nursing home residents are particularly vulnerable to COVID-19 and account for 40% of all reported deaths.
With COVID-positive test results on the rise in almost every state, vaccinating nursing home workers is crucial to protecting not only themselves, but also their patients.
That reality meets a reluctance among many front-line nursing home workers to take the vaccine, said Lori Porter, co-founder and CEO of the National Association of Health Care Assistants, which represents certified nursing assistants who work in long-term care.
Their distrust stems from many things, she said, including politicization around the vaccines, fueled by misinformation on social media.
Educational campaigns and personal endorsements from trusted organizations could help counter the falsehoods, she said. A nationwide event planned for next week by her organization will allow certified nursing assistants to ask questions directly of physician experts and hear from a panel of their peers.
“I’m asked 100 times a day if I’m going to be taking it,” said Porter, who definitely will, hoping to do so in a live webcast, to further convince her members it’s safe.
Despite the need to vaccinate staff to protect residents, Wasserman, a former regulator and nursing home executive, does not think mandates are appropriate for workers, many of whom are low-paid and people of color. “As a society, are we prepared to force this group of folks to get a brand-new vaccine?” he asked.
A better approach, he said, is the type of educational programs that Porter mentioned, so that workers can weigh the evidence and decide whether they want to get vaccinated.
Although employers may have the authority to mandate vaccination, many experts don’t think that policy will be widespread in the nursing home industry, given a shortage of workers and a fear of losing staffers who choose not to comply.
“I can tell you our members are not going to do that,” said Van Runkle, with the Ohio trade group. “If they were to try a mandate, some number of workers would say, ‘Sorry, this is the last straw. I’m leaving.’”
Instead of a mandate, Porter said, a few nursing homes are offering prizes or financial incentives — with at least one talking about offering a drawing for a new car among those who participate. Others, however, may take the opposite approach: ending supplemental hazard pay for workers who refuse.
As for residents, there is no debate. They will not get the vaccine unless they agree, often in writing, said Van Runkle.
For those with dementia or other health problems that prevent making such a decision, family members or others with legal authority must sign, which could slow down the vaccination process considerably.
“During a pandemic, it may be difficult to get hold of them or get their handwritten signature on a document,” said Van Runkle. “We’ve got to sort all this out in the next couple of weeks.”