{"id":3070,"date":"2021-04-28T11:49:00","date_gmt":"2021-04-28T15:49:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/betsiecurrent.com\/?p=3070"},"modified":"2021-06-03T12:56:04","modified_gmt":"2021-06-03T16:56:04","slug":"a-year-into-the-pandemic-benzie-leelanau-district-health-department","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/betsiecurrent.com\/index.php\/a-year-into-the-pandemic-benzie-leelanau-district-health-department\/","title":{"rendered":"A Year into the Pandemic"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Meet the public health workers protecting our community from COVID-19<\/em><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By Jacob Wheeler
Current Contributor<\/strong>

In prosperous, care-free times, public health workers seem almost invisible. Because their job is to prevent health crises from happening, they remain in the background. Few people learn about their true impact.

But when the COVID-19 global pandemic officially hit Michigan just over a year ago, the public health department, nurses, doctors, and hospital workers suddenly played an outsized role in coaching us on how to survive this deadly pathogen, which as of April 22, 2021, has infected 1,144 residents in Benzie County and has claimed 31 lives.

Thirteen months ago, we had no vaccines and precious few coronavirus tests. We scrambled to sew homemade masks and procure personal protective equipment (PPE) for emergency rooms as we waited for the invisible onslaught to arrive. Scenes flashed on television news broadcasts of New York City streets, eerily empty of people; the silence interrupted by lonesome ambulance sirens. Closer it crept\u2014Detroit, Chicago, Grand Rapids, and finally into Northern Michigan. No community in America would escape this, no matter how rural. 

Through the dizzying year of 2020 and into 2021, our public health workers stepped forward and guided us.
 
\u201cSocially distance yourselves \u2026 Flatten the curve,\u201d they told us. \u201cWash hands frequently \u2026 Wear masks \u2026 Stick to your pod of people \u2026Together we can weather this global crisis \u2026 but we have to be patient.\u201d

Last spring, we honored our essential workers and took steps to protect them. Plastic shields were installed in grocery store checkout aisles, fire stations and ambulances were decked with PPE, and diners opted for take-out meals curbside, so they would not put waiters and cooks at risk. Families and friends were separated; the elderly living in nursing homes and assisted care facilities interacted with loved ones through glass windows. When school resumed last fall, teachers kept their masked students in classroom \u201cpods\u201d during lunchtime.

A summer surge of COVID cases frightened us. We felt helpless during a second wave in the fall, with a long Northern Michigan winter looming ahead and the foreboding that many families would travel during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays and unwittingly spread the disease. But every day, news headlines promised that the vaccines were getting closer.

On December 11, 2020, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) approved emergency use of the Pfizer vaccine, which was manufactured in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and shipped out days later. Those unforgettable days in mid-December offered sweet relief for public health workers who had worked the front lines, day in and day out, for nine hard months. 

Our battle with COVID was far from over. But the weapons to fight back had finally arrived. The vaccination campaign, unprecedented in human history, was ramping up and would soon include other vaccines, such as Moderna, Johnson & Johnson, that would become household names. If we all rolled up our sleeves and took these shots\u2014to protect ourselves, our loved ones, our community, and our nation\u2014we would eventually win this war.

Here are the stories of a few local public health workers who have led our community response to the COVID-19 pandemic. We asked them: why they chose a career in public health; how has their job changed as the public health response to the pandemic has evolved; to describe toughest moments and also points of optimism during these frenetic 13 months; to describe meaningful interactions they have had with people impacted by the massive public health effort; and how they think Americans will see public health differently in the future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Lisa
Lisa Peacock: health officer for Health Department of Northwest Michigan and Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department (BLDHD)<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Lisa Peacock: health officer for Health Department of Northwest Michigan and Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department (BLDHD)<\/strong>
Lisa Peacock grew up in public health. Her mother was a health department administrator in Sault Ste. Marie in Michigan\u2019s Upper Peninsula, and Peacock remembers watching her mother attend board of health meetings and make home visits. That impacted Peacock\u2019s decision to attend nursing school at Grand Valley State  University; this spring, she will receive her Master\u2019s degree in Public Health from Michigan State University.

\u201cI was drawn to public health, because our patients include the whole community,\u201d Peacock says. \u201cI have a deep passion for the underserved. We can\u2019t leave anyone behind.\u201d

Peacock compares running the Health Department of Northwest Michigan to being the CEO of a private corporation. She has 200 employees and covers six counties\u2014including Benzie and Leelanau\u2014and works with six different boards of commissioners.

\u201cWe always prepare for public health emergencies, so I knew what my role as incident commander might look like,\u201d she says. \u201cThroughout the pandemic, I\u2019ve needed to keep our teams moving forward, no matter what.\u201d

Peacock\u2019s anxious moments included April 2020, when the pandemic was surging through southeast Michigan and she worried there would not be enough nurses and PPE to care for the sick. The state surged, then flattened the curve, got more supplies and COVID tests, and public health workers adjusted on the fly. 

\u201cThe next time I felt that moment of panic was when cases started surging again in the fall. I remember feeling like I wasn\u2019t sure what to tell my team,\u201d she says. But the vaccine\u2019s arrival brought tears of joy and relief. \u201cI remember that weekend when we held our first vaccine clinics. I came home afterwards and was just overjoyed. I felt, for the first time in a long time, like \u2018We\u2019re gonna get there\u2019.\u201d

When Michigan opened eligibility for anyone aged 65 or older to get vaccinated, demand skyrocketed, though health departments did not yet have enough shots. Peacock\u2019s phone number and email were published online, as she was one of several officials to contact. On most days, her voicemail and her inbox filled with hundreds of messages\u2014mostly from frightened older people who did not know what to do. She spent each Saturday this winter calling those people back. 

\u201cI wanted to assure them, give them some hope, and tell them where they needed to go to sign up,\u201d she explains.

One man in his 80s who slipped and fell at a vaccine clinic later received a courtesy, check-in call from Peacock. 

\u201cAre you the Lisa who put together that clinic?\u201d he asked her. \u201cThat was the nicest clinic… I don\u2019t understand news reports saying it\u2019s hard to get the vaccine.\u201d

Peacock hopes that Americans will see public health through a new lens in the future: 

\u201cI hope it\u2019s not so invisible, and people understand how important it is. I hope we can build trust.\u201d 

Michelle Klein: director of personal health for BLDHD<\/strong>
\u201cOur mantra at the health department is: \u2018We\u2019re always pivoting\u2019,\u201d says Michelle Klein, who leads operations for Benzie and Leelanau counties. \u201cThere have been new challenges and priorities every week. Sometimes drastic changes are needed.\u201d

Klein\u2019s job includes overseeing the local vaccine clinics, case management and contact tracing, and training new staff. The Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department has hired 23 temporary staff during the pandemic and approximately 60 volunteers for the vaccine clinics. 

\u201cPeople have really stepped up in our community,\u201d she says. \u201cWe couldn\u2019t do this without them.\u201d

Early in the pandemic, Klein and one other nurse were doing the bulk of the contact tracing, which meant calling people who may have come into close contact with someone who tested positive for COVID; they, too, would have to quarantine.

\u201cWhen you\u2019re diagnosed, you\u2019re fearful for your own health and fearful for those around you,\u201d Klein says. \u201cThere\u2019s guilt involved, because maybe you passed it onto others. There are financial concerns: you have to be off work, and your family will have to be quarantined. There\u2019s a gamut of emotions that go along with these phone calls. Sometimes, there\u2019s even anger directed at us, like people saying, \u2018You can\u2019t make me quarantine.\u2019 By far, though, most people are wonderful and concerned and want to do the right thing.\u201d

Klein lost sleep over record-high case counts in November and December, when the vaccine was not yet available.

\u201cWe were dealing with people dying. Our case management teams had to call families who were anxious about their loved ones in the hospital. There were outbreaks happening in businesses, schools, and within families,\u201d Klein says. But the vaccine rollout in mid-December represented a \u201clight at the end of the tunnel. We\u2019re seeing another big increase in cases right now, but we know that we have vaccines… I can see that, in three months, it\u2019ll be a different picture. Before, we had so many seniors getting sick. Now, we\u2019re seeing a pivot to younger folks. That tells us the vaccines are working. If we can get the rest of the crew vaccinated, we\u2019ll be in a good place.\u201d 

As of print time, almost 80 percent of Benzie and Leelanau County residents 65 and older have received their first dose of vaccine; nearly 60 percent of residents 16 and older have had their first dose, but most experts agree it will take at least 70 percent to reach \u201cherd immunity.\u201d

Klein hopes that, in the future, the community will know who public health workers are. 

\u201cPublic health is a hidden profession, because it\u2019s so much about prevention,\u201d she explains. \u201cWe do all kinds of important work, but we\u2019re in the background. We manage communicable diseases every day, but it\u2019s typically a few cases of Hepatitis or STDs [sexually transmitted diseases]. But now people know what public health does.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Diane
Diane Stier, nurse for Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Diane Stier: nurse for BLDHD<\/strong>
In the early days of the pandemic, Diane Stier was tasked with contact tracing. When the caseload began to increase in August and September, the health department hired other nurses to perform that role, and Stier switched to the immunization clinics, once the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines arrived. She is now a pod manager at BLDHD\u2019s vaccine clinics\u2014which have included Suttons Bay Middle School, the United Methodist Community Center in Lake Ann, as well as Frankfort and Benzie Central schools. Each clinic is run by the health department and the National Guard but is staffed by many volunteers, including everyone from veterinarians to retired surgeons.

\u201cWe use a lot of math and story problems at the clinics,\u201d Stier says. \u201cHow many stations? How many individuals to run through every five minutes? So we can meet the number of doses we have allocated to use.\u201d

The pandemic has pushed the health department to grow together as a team, Stier says. But hearing reports of people who are sick or who have died has weighed heavily on her. 

\u201cI had a couple at a clinic last week who lost their daughter to COVID last winter,\u201d she says. \u201cIt\u2019s hard to hear that from individuals.\u201d

A high point for Stier was when BLDHD administered its 10,000th dose in the Frankfort High School gymnasium on March 26, 2021, to 92-year-old Dorothy McDougall.

\u201cGetting the vaccine helps protect us, and we should all do it,\u201d McDougall says.

Stier has also witnessed people show deep gratitude for, and bond with, the workers administering the vaccines. At the Lake Ann clinic recently, she observed a woman in her 90s approach a National Guardsman who bore a Polish last name on his uniform. 

\u201cI was born in Germany, but I want you to know that I hated Hitler and hated the Nazis,\u201d she apologized to the soldier, who was in his early 20s and who came from the Lansing area. He shrugged it off, for the Second World War was distant history to him. 

\u201cTo think what people carry through their lives,\u201d Stier reflects. \u201cWe\u2019ve seen people more than 100 years old who survived the 1918 \u2018Spanish Flu\u2019 pandemic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Tammy
Tammy Sorensen: director of community for Northwest Michigan Health Services<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Tammy Sorensen: director of community for Northwest Michigan Health Services<\/strong>
Tammy Sorensen, who has a nursing background, says that she realized the true importance of public health when she watched her father deal with a serious health event in 2017. 

\u201cThough he\u2019s a privileged white man with access to insurance, watching him try to navigate our healthcare system was sad,\u201d she explains. \u201cThere were so many barriers, so many confusing things. It made me think about what it\u2019s like for someone who doesn\u2019t have access to healthcare.\u201d

Sorensen started at Northwest Michigan Health Services (NWMHS) in January 2020, just weeks before COVID hit. She and a colleague developed a plan for curbside drive-through testing for migrant farmworkers, which started in Benzonia and later moved to Shelby in Oceana County. 

\u201cWith my history of bloodbanking and mobile operations, it was an easy fit,\u201d Sorensen says.

Between August 11 and early October, 2020, NWMHS had administered 1,529 COVID tests for migrant farmworkers in seven counties, from Antrim down to Oceana, along Michigan\u2019s west coast fruit belt. Thirty of those tests came back positive. Sixty percent of the tests were conducted in Leelanau County. In order to pool resources, as many as five farms would sometimes come to one testing location. 

NWMHS has now shifted to vaccinate farmworkers, who are integral to our food supply and our economy here in Northern Michigan. Before it was pulled, Sorensen had hopes that they can use the Johnson & Johnson one-shot vaccine for farmworkers, whose busy work schedules may prevent them from returning for a second shot, and some of whom follow the crops and move across the state.

A low point for Sorensen has been the distance she has had to keep from her parents, who live in the Grand Rapids area and who have health issues; she has only seen them three times over the past year, each time while wearing a mask.

\u201cOther frustrations include watching people act careless,\u201d she says. \u201cKindness and grace are important during this pandemic. We\u2019re fighting the good fight, but there are people out there who just don\u2019t care. That\u2019s disheartening.\u201d

A high point came when Sorensen was working a vaccination clinic in Mason County, where they only had a small number of shots to give. A kind and graceful older woman approached Sorensen and confessed that she did not make it in time for an appointment but her lifelong partner was dying of cancer. 

\u201cI\u2019d like to get a vaccine today, so I can travel together with my partner,\u201d she told Sorensen, who found a seat and an extra Moderna shot for her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Mari
Mari Raphael (left): registered nurse for the family health clinic of the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians (GTB), along with Lynn Squanda.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Mari Raphael: registered nurse for the family health clinic of the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians (GTB)<\/strong>
Mari Raphael\u2019s first real job was working as an aid at a nursing home in Grand Rapids when she was 17. Elders there felt so isolated that they would stop her and grab her shirt, just because they were lonely. 

\u201cIt opened a whole new world for me on how important it is to take care of each other,\u201d she says. \u201cThey just wanted to have human touch for a minute or two. As a 17-year-old, it was huge to learn that. Nursing is transformative: we\u2019re trying to help people.\u201d

Since the pandemic arrived, Raphael jokes that she has worn many different hats at work. Since June, the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians has offered rapid testing at a drive-thru structure in Peshawbestown in Leelanau County. People remain in their car, while Raphael and others collect nasal swabs. 

\u201cWe\u2019ve worked in everything from 80-degree weather to windstorms,\u201d she says, noting that hot summer days proved particularly difficult. \u201cWe were mentally exhausted. I would look down and see drips of my sweat on the ground below me. When we were wearing masks, we couldn\u2019t drink water. It was just exhausting.\u201d

The sense of loss was palpable, as well. The Tribe lost 32-year-old Maryan Petoskey to COVID on November 23, 2020, and she remains the youngest person to die of the disease in Leelanau County; tribal elder Phyllis Wanageshik, age 76, died of COVID on December 5, 2020. To some, she was considered \u201cthe queen of Peshawbestown.\u201d The following day, church bells in the community rang 76 times in her honor.

Vaccines are now offered a couple of days a week at the Strongheart Center, the Tribe\u2019s civic center. Raphael and her crew have been able to vaccinate 70 percent of tribal elders.

\u201cThat is what\u2019s going to lead us out of pandemic,\u201d she says. \u201cWe got the vaccine early through the Indian Health Service, and those couple weeks could be the difference between life and death for some.\u201d

Nevertheless, Raphael has met tribal members who are afraid to get the second vaccine, because they have heard it made them feel ill.

\u201cYou can see the frightened looks in their eyes,\u201d Raphael says. \u201cWe\u2019ve all become experts at reading people\u2019s eyes. But I need to hand it to them: they didn\u2019t bail.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Jan
Jan Frazee: retired nurse and volunteer for Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Jan Frazee: retired nurse and volunteer for BLDHD<\/strong>
Jan Frazee retired three years ago after working for the Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department for more than a decade, following stints as a nurse practitioner in Grand Traverse County and managing the region\u2019s Planned Parenthood clinic when it opened in 1987. 

\u201cMy whole nursing practice has been directed at preventative healthcare,\u201d Frazee says. \u201cPublic health deals with people across their whole lifespan. It looks at the community, not just the individual, and tries to protect all of our population.\u201d

Though retired, she could not stay away. BLDHD kept asking her to come back and train nurses or relieve someone on vacation or maternity leave. Once COVID hit, she did not feel comfortable returning to the office, but by October, she saw all her colleagues \u201cputting their lives on the line,\u201d so she contacted Michelle Klein and offered to help as a contract tracer from her home.

A low point for Frazee was watching the \u201cunnecessary\u201d death of more than half a million Americans. 

\u201cIf we had accurate information about how to protect ourselves, and how serious this pandemic was, if we had access to testing earlier, it wouldn\u2019t have been quite as devastating,\u201d Frazee laments. \u201cThe science wasn\u2019t being followed.\u201d

Her role as a contact tracer meant calling and talking with people\u2014often the elderly\u2014who felt lonely in their home. She coached them on how to stay safe and on the need to isolate themselves, and she gathered information on their recent contacts. But she also listened to them. 

\u201cThey\u2019re so grateful to have someone to talk to and tell their story,\u201d Frazee says. \u201cIt\u2019s that human contact. Everyone has a story.\u201d

Once she received her shots, Frazee began volunteering in the vaccination clinic at the Suttons Bay Middle School gymnasium. 

\u201cI said to one of my colleagues, \u2018This is the most people I\u2019ve been around in more than a year.\u2019 I got choked up. I missed human contact,\u201d she says, noting that she witnessed outpourings of joy and gratitude at the clinic. \u201cPeople were grateful. They\u2019d cry. They\u2019d bring us treats, like ginger snap cookies… That\u2019s what I love about being a nurse: touching people, looking people in their eyes, and sitting with them. It\u2019s different than calling them on the phone.\u201d

Frazee hopes that COVID is teaching Americans that dealing with a pandemic requires all of us to work together.

\u201cThis pandemic has divided people in political ways. But public health is a nonpartisan issue,\u201d she says. \u201cThis virus doesn\u2019t care what your political affiliation is. We have to come together and know that we\u2019re connected.\u201d

Tina Plamondon: nurse at Grand Traverse Women\u2019s Clinic, part-owner of Dick’s Pour House, volunteer for BLDHD<\/strong>
Tina Plamondon protects public health in several capacities. She is a registered nurse and midwife at the Grand Traverse Women\u2019s Clinic, which is part of Munson Medical Center. She is also part-owner of Dick\u2019s Pour House in Lake Leelanau, which has remained open during COVID and which required masks and other safety measures to protect customers. Starting in January, she began volunteering at the BLDHD.

\u201cWhen the pandemic hit, I knew the health department would be hard-pressed to get everyone vaccinated,\u201d she says. \u201cI wanted to make myself available to help the community.\u201d

Early this year, when vaccines were scarce and only those 65 and older were eligible to receive shots, Plamondon observed that the few people coming to the clinics were navigating new waters. 

\u201cThey were brave leaders in the community, stewards of what we needed to do to get through this,\u201d she explains.

As eligibility expanded, and as word got out, the clinics hosted scenes that were sometimes celebratory, sometimes emotional. 

\u201cThere was a great atmosphere. Some people cried as you administered the shots. It\u2019s a moving moment. They\u2019re just so thankful, \u201c Plamondon says. \u201cIn healthcare, I normally see people when they\u2019re in pain. This has been different. My role has been to allay their fears, to encourage people to encourage others. \u2018When it\u2019s your turn, get vaccinated.\u2019 …Lately, we\u2019ve begun to see more hesitant people show up at the clinics.\u201d

Still, naysayers remain. At Dick\u2019s Pour House, Plamondon has encountered customers who still refuse to wear masks and who yell at her servers for asking them to do so. 

\u201cThey don\u2019t believe it\u2019s out there, making people sick,\u201d she says. \u201cThey think the medical community is propagating a big lie.\u201d 

Plamondon has also faced criticism from others who say that Dick\u2019s Pour House should not be open at all. 

\u201cWhy am I serving people in the restaurant when it could be killing people?, they say.\u201d She laments how entrenched both sides are. \u201cLet\u2019s just work in the middle, and make things as safe as possible.\u201d

Plamondon has received plenty of gratitude, too\u2014whether it is from a restaurant customer who thanks the staff at Dick\u2019s for remaining open and safe, or from a COVID-positive woman in labor who is so afraid of the disease that she has not left her house in months. 

\u201cIt\u2019s important to keep things as normal as possible, despite the pandemic,\u201d she says.

At a vaccine clinic in Benzonia recently, Plamondon received a pregnant young woman who was afraid of what the Moderna shot might do to her baby. 

\u201cI explained my background as a midwife, and I told her about vertical transmission [of the antibodies] to the baby\u201d Plamondon recalls. \u201cThat was a powerful moment for me, to be able to relate to her specifically. She was terrified.\u201d

Plamondon hopes that, in the long run, Americans will fully embrace and understand public health workers, just as they honored healthcare workers in hospitals a year ago and first responders during previous climactic episodes in our history, such as 9\/11. She described being moved to tears when she would leave the Women\u2019s Clinic on the Munson campus last spring, and encountered Traverse City residents serenading her with honking horns and roadside signs of \u201cthanks\u201d.

\u201cThe population recognized how valuable healthcare workers are,\u201d she says.\u201d That hasn\u2019t happened yet with public health. But as we continue to administer vaccines and make the experience as personal as possible, people will realize what an endeavor it\u2019s been. How committed we are as public health workers.\u201d

When 92 year-old Dorothy McDougall received the 10,000th vaccine shot administered by BLDHD, on March 26, 2021 in the Frankfort gymnasium, it was Tina Plamondon who put the needle in her right arm. 

\u201cI\u2019m just so anxious to help stop this pandemic,\u201d McDougall said. \u201cIf they at the Health Department are doing whatever they can do, I think we ought to do what we can do. I\u2019m glad if it will help anybody.\u201d

The celebratory moment turned humorous when McDougall\u2019s son Robert, who was also there for his vaccine, joked: \u201cWell, what do I get?\u201d

\u201cYou\u2019re important, too,\u201d replied Plamondon. \u201cYou\u2019ll get the first of the next 10,000 doses.\u201d

A version of this article first published in the Glen Arbor Sun<\/strong><\/a>, a Leelanau County-based semi-sister publication to The Betsie Current.<\/strong><\/em>

Featured Photo Caption: <\/strong>On March 26, 2021, 92-year-old Dorothy McDougall of Frankfort received the 10,000th dose of the COVID-19 vaccine that had been given out by the Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department. On April 23, 2021, 16-year-old Josephine Gorman, a high school student attending St. Francis in Traverse City, received the 15,000th dose of COVID-19 vaccine administered by the Benzie-Leelanau District Health Department; she was accompanied by her mother, Jennifer. Photos courtesy of BLDHD. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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