Staring down the threat of COVID, Fresno nurse helped keep county election workers safe

In a horror starkly repeating itself, I watched the past become the future. The national news anchor amplified the tension in his voice: COVID-19 was surging. Hospitals were bursting. There was not enough mask wearing. Business closures might be revisited. Weary travelers, beware.

This was just a few weeks ago.

I heard the message loud and clear: It’s time to hunker down again. Similar challenges are occurring in our own region.

Fortunately, we’ve learned much in the last nine months. The virus has forced our hand. We know what we‘re supposed to do. Whether we choose to take those steps is another matter.

Since the beginning, all of us have been playing risk roulette. Every day is a new opportunity to weigh the probabilities. Should we do this? Should we try that? Will there be a sick person here? Will there be an asymptomatic carrier there? The psychological gyrations are endless.

We continue to look into the dark abyss, wondering how our bodies might respond should the virus attack. We worry for our loved ones. Those who have already become infected tend to count their blessings, becoming proselytes for prevention. If COVID has brought great loss to your life, long nights might trigger the blame game. “What if?”

The virus doesn’t care.

In the spring, as I watched front-line caregivers brave their assaults, trying to pull patients through oxygen-deprived hell, I felt powerless. That used to be me, I thought. I cared for AIDS patients. I administered thousands of influenza vaccines. I planned for Ebola. Now, I was doing nothing to help, a retired nurse pressing closer to the age of high risk. Still, it was hard to stand motionless. So I put my name on a list. Several months later, the call came.

But this story isn’t about me. It’s about all of us coming together for the greater good. I share one prescient example: The leadership of David Pomaville, Fresno County director of public health, and Brandi Orth, Fresno County clerk and registrar of voters. These two individuals put together a plan to keep staff who worked the Fresno County elections safe. I served as a nurse liaison between the two departments.

A small team and I provided routine screening services to employees, public observers, and members of the news media. There were no guarantees, but we worked to increase the odds that our fellow citizens would remain healthy, and that the virus would have less chance to infiltrate.

Even during this time of social distancing, we live our lives within a kaleidoscope of choices. Some activities are essential. Most, frankly, are not. Participating in a safe and fair electoral process was crucial to our democracy. I was happy to do my part. I monitored the workplace. I watched staff for symptoms. I served gentle reminders to “please pull up your mask.”

This kind of collaborative effort between two departments can serve as a model for others. Of course, not every business or organization needs a nurse at its door. Temperature and symptom screening is a simple task. But it’s what you do with that information that counts. How enthusiastically do you support the universal message that “we’re all in this together”? Because we are — and we will be — until we walk through the valley of the virus or we dodge its grim shadow for the last time.

Like so many of you, I will have to make some difficult decisions in the coming weeks. We’ve been through this before. The early months of the pandemic were extremely difficult. Navigating the upcoming holiday season will feel particularly hard. I understand. I live alone.

But we must remember the greater goal at play. We are aiming for a better COVID future, a time when we will have ample treatment options for severe illness, not to mention a readily available vaccine. This will be a time when we will define success not only by the avoidance of death, but by the absence of the long-term sequelae that often trail the disease. Until then, we’re flailing in this quagmire together.

COVID-19 didn’t disappear on Nov. 4. It will be around on Jan. 20. A virus is not a political being. It’s a tiny clump of genetic and protein material that can play havoc with its host. In all our cherished freedoms, I hope we will choose to respect its power by cutting off its chances to spread.