As the world slowly returns to a new normal, it’s important to reflect back on the hardships our community faced and the incredible compassion shown just to help each other survive. So, in this issue, we are highlighting the ways Tacoma community members faced the COVID-19 pandemic and the great acts of compassion they demonstrated as they showed up to help one another through this historic time.
Our story starts at the beginning of COVID, when fear was high and understanding of the virus was low, at the Cascade Park Gardens memory care facility and the staff that worked 14-plus hour days to care for their residents. Our next story looks at a group of volunteers who registered over 1,000 people for vaccine appointments, and finally, we look at the community groups still working to vaccinate our most impacted friends, family, and neighbors.
Outside the Cascade Park Gardens memory care facility
Jen Drake was camping with her family when she got the phone call; the first resident at the Cascade Park Gardens memory care facility had tested positive for COVID. Just two days later – facing the rigorous new protocols and fear of the impacts of the virus on the health of themselves and their families – 50 percent of the staff had quit. As she recalled that first moment vividly, Jen said, “We were all just standing there looking at each other, all believing we were going to get COVID, but it’s not just a job. And, at great personal cost, our staff stayed to care for our residents.”
Staff worked 14 to 20 hours each day, living in “Dark Age fear,” knowing very little about the virus, but working tirelessly to care for the residents. At night, they returned home to routines of sanitizing themselves head to toe and quarantining away from their families.
Many staff moved out of their homes entirely into a nearby hotel, but they were kicked out when it was discovered that they worked in a COVID-positive facility.
COVID was hard not just on the staff, but on the Senior resident families too. They were unable to see their mothers, fathers, spouses, and grandparents who lived at Cascade Park Gardens, and instead had to speak through screens. Twelve families had to say goodbye through a screen. Jen speaks of the “death gift” – the gift of seeing a family member one last time, of hugging them, of kissing them, of telling them you love them, and of saying goodbye. Twelve families were robbed of this gift.
Staff had to say goodbye too, and nearly said goodbye to one of their own.
“One of our activity assistants contracted COVID from working in the building. After a month of recovery, she came back despite the extreme fatigue she experienced. She did not have to. We did not want to push her, but she felt such love for our residents. It was her call of duty to come back in. While she couldn’t move much, she could sit, visit, laugh, hug, and hold our COVID residents,” said Jen. “Another staff member had recently survived cancer and was at high risk for COVID, but continued to care for the residents because, ‘If not me, who?’”
Within the many days of fear, sacrifice, and tears, moments of pure humanity shined through. Residents and staff mopped the floors together, dancing to classic oldies. One COVID-positive resident with severe dementia was a “real hugger”. He didn’t know he shouldn’t hug, so, “Did I hug him? Did I show my humanity? Of course I hugged him,” Jen remembered.
Slowly, the community saw the immense hardship happening inside Cascade Park Gardens. Businesses started sending food and drinks, and other healthcare providers sent messages of encouragement that were read out over the loudspeaker: “We see you.”
After three months, a nursing agency was hired to provide extra staff, and slowly COVID became better understood. The memories, trauma, panic attacks, and pain remain for many who gave so much. So, as a community and as a city, we must continue to recognize and honor the sacrifices endured, and the compassion shown, by Cascade Park Gardens residents, staff, and families.
When asked for a final thought, Jen said simply, “We can spread love, we can spread hate, we can spread COVID, and we can stop COVID. I never want to go through this again. So please, get vaccinated.”
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Bonnie McGuire can type 110 words per minute and, as the former principal of Foss High School, knows all about navigating data systems to connect people to needed resources. In January of this year, she put these skills to use to hunt down COVID vaccines for family and friends in need. A month later, her effort had become a group of 12 retired educators – the Vaccine Bookers of Washington – working 10 to 14 hours a day to connect hundreds of elderly Washingtonians to shots.
By early February, the Vaccine Bookers of Washington was getting hundreds of emails and, after a local news interview, it became thousands. “People were afraid. They weren’t ready to die. They didn’t want to die on a ventilator; they wanted to die later on their own terms,” said Bonnie, remembering the many seniors she had connected to vaccines.
The Vaccine Bookers of Washington team meeting
After nearly a year of waiting, Washington seniors were finally able to get a vaccine. The online systems were often overly complicated for people with landlines and flip phones though. And many people didn’t have unlimited internet data, meaning they couldn’t afford to spend hours online looking for a vaccine. It was these Washingtonians who were often at the greatest risk from COVID, who most struggled to find a life-saving vaccine.
As retired school administrators and educators, Bonnie and her group organized into teams to manage tech support, social media outreach, front-end appointment bookings, and hard-to-solve problem cases. They soon realized they wouldn’t be able to sign everyone up, and started hosting Zoom classes on how to find a vaccine. The classes were immensely popular and, until then, Bonnie said she didn’t realize Zoom had a limit of 100 attendees.
It often came down to one-on-one support for individual cases. One couple hadn’t left their house in a year from fear of the virus and were too afraid to go to a clinic. Eventually, the fire department visited them at their home and administered the COVID vaccinations. Many other seniors had to be connected to transportation or were living with dementia or Alzheimer’s and needed extra help reaching their appointment.
Often, people asked to pay for the service, but were refused. They were, instead, asked to pay it forward. Some newly vaccinated people did this by giving rides to those unable to reach their appointments. Eventually, the Vaccine Bookers of Washington selected the Claire Bear Foundation to receive any monetary donations people wished to make. One vaccine recipient gave $10,000.
In the end, 935 people were officially signed up for an appointment. However, as the group connected many acquaintances to appointments and instructed hundreds more on how to find one, they estimate the total to be closer to 1,200 people served.
Many people broke down crying, realizing they’d finally be able to see their grandchildren, realizing the fear of COVID was gone. “You could feel their fear,” Bonnie said, “so protect each other, do right by one another, and get vaccinated.”
As Tacoma looks to the second half of 2021, hoping to a return to what the world once was, we must remember that there is still much work to be done. Many in our community remain unvaccinated; some are immuno-compromised and need special help getting a vaccine; some have been victims of many years of trauma and don’t trust the health care system; and some remain hard to reach because of vaccine access issues such as language barriers.
COVID-19 has demonstrated that compassion shown to one person really is compassion shown to the whole community. It is this collective compassion that keeps us strong. Many local community nonprofits are doing this work, helping vaccinate the most vulnerable and historically marginalized members of our community and working tirelessly to keep all of us strong.
Latinos Unidos of South Sound (LUSS) has worked since the beginning of the vaccine rollout to connect Latinx and Spanish speaking community members to vaccine appointments. To do this, they’ve hosted listening sessions and relied on Promotoras, or trusted Community Navigators, to understand the community’s fears. “Latinx community members often do the jobs that are paid the least, but keep others safe and able to work and go about their lives more smoothly,” said LUSS member Liesl Santkuyl. “If more people who do those jobs stay well, we all will have a better chance of staying well and our community is able to function better.”
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The Pierce County Aids Foundation (PCAF) has been working to find creative ways to reach HIV positive community members who are at the intersection of numerous inequities – BIPOC, LGBTQ, immuno-compromised, unstably housed – and are often mistrustful of health systems that historically have not provided them with equitable service. As a way to advance both individual and collective community health, PCAF has worked to celebrate each person’s vaccination, to celebrate each person showing their collective compassion in helping us reach herd immunity. To do this, they’ve partnered with local businesses like Sirius Wood Fired Pizza and The Mix to provide celebratory incentives for those who choose to be vaccinated, and are currently planning a vaccination event and community resource fair around Tacoma Pride - Vaccinated with Pride - on July 9th.
The COVID pandemic has been a serious diversion for our local nonprofits, “I want to get back to doing the regular PCAF work,” said Prevention Team Lead Erica Crittendon, “ending the HIV epidemic.” Fighting to end a pandemic in order to get back to fighting to end an epidemic is true compassion in action.
The Tacoma Urban League’s Leaders in Women’s Health works to confront the centuries of racial inequities faced by the black community, most recently seen in the higher COVID infection and hospitalization rates and lower rates of vaccinations. Centuries of not being treated equitably by the medical profession has led to community mistrust, requiring the Leaders in Women’s Health to pivot to hosting vaccine clinics in safe spaces run by trusted community leaders. “Meeting people where they’re at is compassionate, Black folks giving vaccinations to Black folks,” said Alicia Klein, one of the group’s leaders and a Health Center Manager for Planned Parenthood. To build this trust, the clinics have been hosted at the Tacoma Urban League headquarters and run by the Ebony Nurses, a group of mostly retired Black nurses.
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The Ebony Nurses helping vaccinate people at a Tacoma Urban League vaccine clinic
Leah Ford, another group leader and the Deputy Equity Officer in charge of countywide vaccine outreach strategy for the Tacoma-Pierce County Health Department added, “Getting vaccinated is such a personal decision, so it’s okay to take time and to ask questions. Having trusted community messengers is vital to answer these questions.”
LUSS, PCAF, and the Tacoma Urban League’s Leaders in Women’s Health are among the many groups continuing to act with the compassion that will usher Tacoma into a post-COVID world. Our city is beginning to heal, but the work is not over. LUSS’s Promotoras are still reaching out to non-English speaking residents, PCAF’s staff and volunteers are eager to return to the work of solving the HIV epidemic, and the trusted community messengers at the Tacoma Urban League continue to answer questions and overcome centuries of mistrust in the medical field.
Each of these groups, and everyone still working to heal our community, deserve our praise and our deepest gratitude.
No matter how you are showing your compassion – whether you are helping with vaccines, assisting a neighbor in need, or working to make our community cleaner and safer – this is the collective compassion that will make our city whole again, and we thank everyone continuing to do this vitally important work.
Have you seen a friend, loved one, or neighborhood act with compassion? Have you felt the compassion of another's actions? Have you shown compassion? Please, we want to hear your stories. Follow this link to share your story or send it to compassion@cityoftacoma.org.
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