Sus funcionarios, que han manejado presupuestos famélicos durante años, están felices de tener este dinero adicional. Sin embargo, les preocupa que esta ayuda pueda desaparecer pronto, a medida que la pandemia se repliega, continuando con un ciclo de altas y bajas en la financiación, que ha plagado al sistema de salud pública de los Estados Unidos durante décadas.

Advierten que, si los presupuestos se recortan de nuevo, la nación podría volver a donde estaba antes de covid: sin preparación para enfrentar una crisis de salud.

“Necesitamos fondos con los que podamos contar año tras año”, dijo la doctora Mysheika Roberts, comisionada de salud de Columbus, Ohio.

Cuando Roberts comenzó en Columbus en 2006, una subvención de preparación para emergencias alcanzó para pagarle a más de 20 empleados. Cuando llegó la pandemia de coronavirus, alcanzó para cerca de 10. Con el dinero de ayuda que llegó el año pasado, el departamento pudo tener más equipos de respuesta a covid. Pero, aunque la financiación ha ayudado a la ciudad a hacer frente a la crisis inmediata, Roberts se pregunta si la historia se repetirá.

Una vez que termine la pandemia, los funcionarios de salud pública temen tener que volver a reunir dinero de múltiples fuentes para brindar servicios básicos a sus comunidades, como pasó después del 9/11, el SARS y el Ebola.

Cuando el virus del Zika transmitido por mosquitos atravesó Sudamérica en 2016, causando graves defectos de nacimiento en recién nacidos, los congresistas no pudieron ponerse de acuerdo sobre cómo y cuánto gastar en los Estados Unidos.

Para los esfuerzos de prevención, como la educación y la eliminación de mosquitos, los Centros para el Control y la Prevención de Enfermedades (CDC) tomaron dinero que estaba destinado al Ebola y de los fondos para los departamento de salud estatales y locales. El Congreso finalmente asignó $1.1 mil millones para el Zika. Pero, para entonces, la temporada de mosquitos ya había pasado en gran parte del país.

“Algo sucede, repartimos un montón de dinero, y luego, en uno o dos años, volvemos a nuestros presupuestos reducidos y no podemos hacer las cosas mínimas que tenemos que hacer día tras día, y mucho menos estar preparados para la próxima emergencia ”, dijo Chrissie Juliano, directora ejecutiva de Big Cities Health Coalition, que representa a líderes de más de dos docenas de departamentos de salud pública.

El financiamiento para el Public Health Emergency Preparedness, que paga por las capacidades de emergencia para los departamentos de salud estatales y locales, se redujo aproximadamente a la mitad entre los años fiscales 2003 y 2021, tomando en cuenta la inflación, según Trust for America’s Health, una organización de investigación y defensa de la salud pública.

Incluso el , que se estableció con la Ley de Cuidado de Salud a Bajo Precio (ACA) para proporcionar $2 mil millones al año para la salud pública, fue allanado en busca de efectivo durante la última década. Si no se hubiera tocado ese dinero, eventualmente los departamentos habrían obtenido $12,4 mil millones adicionales.

Varios legisladores, con la senadora nacional Patty Murray (demócrata de Washington) a la cabeza, buscan poner fin a este círculo vicioso con una legislación que eventualmente proporcionaría $4,500 millones anuales en fondos básicos de salud pública. Los departamentos de salud llevan a cabo funciones gubernamentales esenciales, como administrar la seguridad del agua, emitir certificados de defunción, rastrear enfermedades de transmisión sexual, y estar listos para brotes de enfermedades infecciosas.

El gasto en estos departamentos estatales se redujo en un 16% per cápita de 2010 a 2019, y el gasto en los departamentos de salud locales bajó un 18%, reveló en julio una investigación de KHN y The Associated Press (AP).

Se perdieron al menos 38,000 empleos de salud pública a nivel estatal y local entre la recesión de 2008 y 2019. Hoy en día, se contrata a muchos trabajadores de salud pública de manera temporal o a tiempo parcial. A algunos se les paga tan mal que califican para beneficios del gobierno. Esos factores reducen la capacidad de los departamentos para retener personas con experiencia.

Para peor, la pandemia ha generado un éxodo de funcionarios de salud pública debido al acoso, la presión política y el agotamiento. Un análisis de un año realizado por AP y KHN reveló que al menos 248 líderes de departamentos de salud estatales y locales renunciaron, se retiraron o fueron despedidos entre el 1 de abril de 2020 y el 31 de marzo de 2021. Casi uno de cada 6 estadounidenses perdió a un líder de salud pública local durante la pandemia.

Expertos dicen que es el mayor éxodo de líderes de salud pública en la historia de los Estados Unidos.

Brian Castrucci, director ejecutivo de la Beaumont Foundation, que aboga por la salud pública, llama a la enorme afluencia de efectivo del Congreso en respuesta a la crisis un “vendaje temporal” porque no restaura los cimientos quebrados de la salud pública.

“Me preocupa que al final vayamos a contratar un montón de rastreadores de contactos, para despedirlos poco después”, dijo Castrucci. “Continuamos pasando de un desastre a otro sin siquiera hablar de la infraestructura real”.

Castrucci y otros dicen que necesitan dinero confiable para profesionales altamente capacitados, como epidemiólogos (detectives de enfermedades basados ​​en datos) y para actualizaciones tecnológicas que ayudarían a rastrear brotes y brindar información al público.

En Ohio, el sistema informático utilizado para informar casos al estado es anterior a la invención del iPhone. Funcionarios estatales dijeron durante años que querían mejorarlo, pero no hubo ni dinero ni voluntad política. Muchos departamentos en todo el país han tenido que confiar en las para reportar casos de covid.

Durante la pandemia, el auditor del estado de Ohio descubrió que casi el 96% de los departamentos de salud locales encuestados tenían problemas con el sistema de notificación de enfermedades del estado. Roberts dijo que los trabajadores que entrevistaban a los pacientes tenían que navegar por varias páginas de preguntas, una tarea pesada cuando se manejan 500 casos al día.

El sistema estaba tan desactualizado que parte de la información solo se podía ingresar en un cuadro de comentarios que después no se podía encontrar, y los funcionarios luchaban para extraer datos del sistema para informar al público, como cuántas personas que dieron positivo en la prueba habían asistido a un marcha de Black Lives Matter, que el verano pasado fue una pregunta clave para comprender si las protestas contribuían a la propagación del virus.

Ohio está trabajando en un nuevo sistema, pero a Roberts le preocupa que, sin un presupuesto confiable, el estado tampoco pueda mantenerlo actualizado.

“Vas a necesitar actualizar eso”, dijo Roberts. “Y vas a necesitar dólares para respaldarlo”.

En Washington, Patty Hayes, la directora de salud pública de Seattle y el condado de King, dijo que todo el tiempo le preguntan por qué no hay un solo sitio centralizado para registrarse para una cita de vacunación. La respuesta se reduce al dinero: años de financiación insuficiente dejaron a los departamentos de todo el estado con sistemas informáticos anticuados que no estaban a la altura de la tarea cuando llegó covid.

Hayes recuerda un tiempo en el que su departamento realizaba simulacros de vacunación masiva, pero ese sistema se desmanteló cuando el dinero se agotó después de que se desvaneció el fantasma del 9/11.

Hace aproximadamente seis años, un análisis encontró que a su departamento le faltaban alrededor de $25 millones del dinero que necesitaba anualmente para el trabajo básico de salud pública. Hayes dijo que el año pasado demostró que esa cifra estaba subestimada. Por ejemplo, el cambio climático está generando más preocupaciones de salud pública, como el efecto en los residentes cuando el humo de los incendios forestales cubrió gran parte del noroeste del Pacífico en septiembre.

Funcionarios de salud pública en algunas áreas pueden tener dificultades para defender un financiamiento más estable porque una gran parte del público ha cuestionado, y a menudo ha sido abiertamente hostil, con los mandatos del uso de máscaras y las restricciones a los negocios impuestas a lo largo de la pandemia.

En Missouri, algunos comisionados del condado, frustrados por las restricciones de salud pública, retuvieron dinero de los departamentos.

En el condado de Knox, en Tennessee, el alcalde Glenn Jacobs narró publicado en el otoño que mostraba una foto de funcionarios de salud después de hacer referencia a “fuerzas siniestras”. Más tarde, alguien pintó con spray la palabra “MUERTE” en el edificio del departamento. La Junta de Salud fue despojada de sus poderes en marzo y se le otorgó una función asesora. Un vocero de la oficina del alcalde se negó a comentar sobre el video.

“Esto va a cambiar la posición de la salud pública y lo que podemos y no podemos hacer en todo el país”, dijo la doctora Martha Buchanan, jefa del Departamento de Salud. “Sé que lo va a cambiar aquí”.

Una en diciembre encontró que al menos 24 estados estaban elaborando una legislación que limitaría o eliminaría los poderes de salud pública.

De nuevo en Seattle, las empresas locales han aportado dinero y personal a los sitios de vacunación. Microsoft aloja a uno de estos sitios, mientras que Starbucks ofreció experiencia en servicio al cliente para ayudar a diseñarlos. Hayes está agradecida, pero se pregunta por qué una función del gobierno crítica no contó con los recursos que necesitaba durante una pandemia.

Si la salud pública hubiera recibido financiamiento confiable, su personal podría haber estado trabajando de manera más efectiva con los datos, y podría haber estado preparándose para las amenazas emergentes en el estado donde se confirmó el primer caso de covid del país.

“Mirarán hacia atrás a esta respuesta a la pandemia en este país como un gran ejemplo del fracaso de un país en priorizar la salud de sus ciudadanos, porque no hubo compromiso con la salud pública”, dijo. “Eso será parte de la historia”.

La corresponsal senior de KHN Anna Maria Barry-Jester y la corresponsal de Montana Katheryn Houghton colaboraron con este informe.

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Public health officials who have juggled bare-bones budgets for years are happy to have the additional money. Yet they worry it will soon dry up as the pandemic recedes, continuing a boom-bust funding cycle that has plagued the U.S. public health system for decades. If budgets are slashed again, they warn, that could leave the nation where it was before covid: unprepared for a health crisis.

“We need funds that we can depend on year after year,” said Dr. Mysheika Roberts, the health commissioner of Columbus, Ohio.

When Roberts started in Columbus in 2006, an emergency preparedness grant paid for more than 20 staffers. By the time the coronavirus pandemic hit, it paid for about 10. Relief money that came through last year helped the department staff up its covid response teams. While the funding has helped the city cope with the immediate crisis, Roberts wonders if history will repeat itself.

After the pandemic is over, public health officials across the U.S. fear, they’ll be back to scraping together money from a patchwork of sources to provide basic services to their communities — much like after 9/11, SARS and Ebola.

When the mosquito-borne Zika virus tore through South America in 2016, causing serious birth defects in newborn babies, members of Congress couldn’t agree how, and how much, to spend in the U.S. for prevention efforts, such as education and mosquito abatement. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention took money from its Ebola efforts, and from state and local health department funding, to pay for the initial Zika response. Congress eventually allocated $1.1 billion for Zika, but by then mosquito season had passed in much of the U.S.

“Something happens, we throw a ton of money at it, and then in a year or two we go back to our shrunken budgets and we can’t do the minimum things we have to do day in and day out, let alone be prepared for the next emergency,” said Chrissie Juliano, executive director of the Big Cities Health Coalition, which represents leaders of more than two dozen public health departments.

Funding for Public Health Emergency Preparedness, which pays for emergency capabilities for state and local health departments, dropped by about half between the 2003 and 2021 fiscal years, accounting for inflation, according to , a public health research and advocacy organization.

Even the federal , established with the Affordable Care Act to provide $2 billion a year for public health, was raided for cash over the past decade. If the money hadn’t been touched, eventually local and state health departments would have gotten an additional $12.4 billion.

Several lawmakers, led by Democratic U.S. Sen. Patty Murray of Washington, are looking to end the boom-bust cycle with that would eventually provide $4.5 billion annually in core public health funding. Health departments carry out essential government functions — such as managing water safety, issuing death certificates, tracking sexually transmitted diseases and preparing for infectious outbreaks.

Spending for state public health departments dropped by 16% per capita from 2010 to 2019, and spending for local health departments fell by 18%, KHN and The Associated Press found in a July investigation. At least 38,000 public health jobs were lost at the state and local level between the 2008 recession and 2019. Today, many public health workers are hired on a temporary or part-time basis. Some are paid so poorly they qualify for public aid. Those factors reduce departments’ ability to retain people with expertise.

Compounding those losses, the pandemic has prompted an exodus of public health officials because of harassment, political pressure and exhaustion. A yearlong analysis by the AP and KHN found at least 248 leaders of state and local health departments resigned, retired or were fired between April 1, 2020, and March 31, 2021. Nearly 1 in 6 Americans lost a local public health leader during the pandemic. Experts say it is the largest exodus of public health leaders in American history.

Brian Castrucci, CEO of the de Beaumont Foundation, which advocates for public health, calls Congress’ giant influx of cash in response to the crisis “wallpaper and drapes” because it doesn’t restore public health’s crumbling foundation.

“I worry at the end of this we’re going to hire up a bunch of contact tracers — and then lay them off soon thereafter,” Castrucci said. “We are continuing to kind of go from disaster to disaster without ever talking about the actual infrastructure.”

Castrucci and others say dependable money is needed for high-skill professionals, such as epidemiologists — data-driven disease detectives — and for technology upgrades that would help track outbreaks and get information to the public.

In Ohio, the computer system used to report cases to the state predates the invention of the iPhone. State officials had said for years they wanted to upgrade it, but they lacked the money and political will. Many departments across the country have relied on to report covid cases.

During the pandemic, Ohio’s that nearly 96% of local health departments it surveyed had problems with the state’s disease reporting system. Roberts said workers interviewing patients had to navigate several pages of questions, a major burden when handling 500 cases daily.

The system was so outdated that some information could be entered only in a non-searchable comment box, and officials struggled to pull data from the system to report to the public — such as how many people who tested positive had attended a Black Lives Matter rally, which last summer was a key question for people trying to understand whether protests contributed to the virus’s spread.

Ohio is working on a new system, but Roberts worries that, without a dependable budget, the state won’t be able to keep that one up to date either.Ìý

“You’re going to need to upgrade that,” Roberts said. “And you're going to need dollars to support that.”

In Washington, the public health director for Seattle and King County, Patty Hayes, said she is asked all the time why there isn’t a single, central place to register for a vaccine appointment. The answer comes down to money: Years of underfunding left departments across the state with antiquated computer systems that were not up to the task when covid hit.

Hayes recalls a time when her department would conduct mass vaccination drills, but that system was dismantled when the money dried up after the specter of 9/11 faded.

Roughly six years ago, an analysis found that her department was about $25 million short of what it needed annually for core public health work. Hayes said the past year has shown that’s an underestimate. For example, climate change is prompting more public health concerns, such as the effect on residents when wildfire smoke engulfed much of the Pacific Northwest in September.

Public health officials in some areas may struggle to make the case for more stable funding because a large swath of the public has questioned — and often been openly hostile toward — the mask mandates and business restrictions that public health officials have imposed through the pandemic.

In Missouri, some county commissioners who were frustrated at public health restrictions withheld money from the departments.

In Knox County, Tennessee, Mayor Glenn Jacobs narrated posted in the fall that showed a photo of health officials after referencing “sinister forces.” Later, someone spray-painted “DEATH” on the department office building. The Board of Health was stripped of its powers in March and given an advisory role. A spokesperson for the mayor’s office declined to comment on the video.

“This is going to change the position of public health and what we can and cannot do across the country,” said Dr. Martha Buchanan, the head of the health department. “I know it’s going to change it here.”

A found at least 24 states were crafting legislation that would limit or remove public health powers.

Back in Seattle, locally based companies have pitched in money and staff members for vaccine sites. Microsoft is hosting one location, while Starbucks offered customer service expertise to help design the sites. Hayes is grateful, but she wonders why a critical government function didn’t have the resources it needed during a pandemic.

If public health had been getting dependable funding, her staff could have been working more effectively with the data and preparing for emerging threats in the state where the was confirmed.

“They'll look back at this response to the pandemic in this country as a great example of a failure of a country to prioritize the health of its citizens, because it didn't commit to public health,” she said. “That will be part of the story.”

KHN senior correspondent Anna Maria Barry-Jester and Montana correspondent Katheryn Houghton contributed to this report.

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Como administradora de salud pública, ha luchado cada día de la pandemia para mantener a salvo a su condado rural, ubicado a lo largo de la frontera con Missouri. A cambio, ha sido acosada, demandada, vilipendiada y le han gritado “cumple-órdenes”.

Los meses de peleas por máscaras y cuarentenas ya la estaban desgastando. Luego contrajo COVID-19, probablemente de su esposo, quien se ha negado a exigir el uso de máscaras en la ferretería familiar. Su madre también lo contrajo y murió el domingo 13 de diciembre.

En todo Estados Unidos, funcionarios de salud pública estatales y locales se han encontrado en el centro de una tormenta política.

Algunos han sido el blanco de activistas de extrema derecha, grupos conservadores y extremistas antivacunas, que se han unido en torno a objetivos comunes: luchar contra los mandatos de uso de máscaras, las cuarentenas y el rastreo de contactos, con protestas, amenazas y ataques personales.

El poder de la salud pública también se está socavando en los tribunales. Legisladores, en al menos 24 estados, han diseñado leyes para debilitar poderes que la salud pública ha mantenido por mucho tiempo.

En medio de este retroceso, desde el 1 de abril, al menos 181 líderes de salud pública estatales y locales, en 38 estados, han renunciado, se han jubilado o han sido despedidos, según una investigación en curso de The Associated Press y KHN. Expertos dicen que se trata del éxodo más grande de líderes de salud pública en la historia de los Estados Unidos.

Uno de cada 8 estadounidenses, 40 millones de personas, vive en una comunidad que perdió a su líder de salud pública local durante la pandemia. En 20 estados, los principales funcionarios de salud pública han dejado sus puestos, y también se ha ido un número incalculable de empleados de niveles inferiores.

Muchos de los líderes se retiraron debido al retroceso político o la presión de la pandemia. Algunos se fueron para ocupar puestos de más alto perfil o por problemas de salud. Otros fueron despedidos por mal desempeño. Docenas se jubilaron.

“No tenemos gente haciendo fila afuera para cubrir estos puestos”, dijo el doctor Gianfranco Pezzino, oficial de salud en el condado de Shawnee, Kansas, quien había decidido jubilarse a fines de año, porque, dijo, ha llegado a su límite. “Es una gran pérdida que es probable que impacte en las  generaciones futuras”.

Pero Pezzino no llegó al 31 de diciembre. El lunes 14, luego que los comisionados del condado , .

Estas partidas son una erosión adicional a la ya frágil infraestructura de salud pública del país, antes de la campaña de vacunación más grande en la historia de los Estados Unidos.

AP y KHN que, desde 2010, el gasto per cápita de los departamentos de salud pública estatales se había reducido en un 16%, y en los departamentos de salud locales, un 18%. Al menos 38,000 empleos de salud pública estatales y locales han desaparecido desde la recesión de 2008.

Desde que comenzó la pandemia, la fuerza laboral de salud pública en Kansas se ha visto muy afectada: 17 de los 100 departamentos de salud del estado han estado perdiendo a sus líderes desde finales de marzo.

La gobernadora demócrata Laura Kelly emitió en julio, pero la legislatura estatal permitió que los condados optaran por no participar. Un informe reciente de los Centros para el Control y Prevención de Enfermedades (CDC) mostró que los 24 condados de Kansas que habían cumplido con este mandato registraron una disminución del 6% en los casos de COVID-19, mientras que los 81 condados que optaron por no participar por completo vieron un aumento del 100%.

Coleman presionó para que el condado de Linn mantuviera la regla, pero los comisionados escribieron que las máscaras “no son necesarias para proteger la salud pública y la seguridad del condado”.

Coleman se sintió decepcionada, pero no sorprendida. “Al menos sé que he hecho todo lo posible para intentar proteger a la gente”, dijo.

En Boise, Idaho, el 8 de diciembre, , algunos armados, invadieron las oficinas de salud del distrito y las casas de los miembros de la junta de salud, gritando y haciendo sonar las bocinas. Entre ellos había miembros del grupo anti-vacunas Health Freedom Idaho.

Según expertos, el movimiento contra las vacunas se ha vinculado con extremistas políticos de derecha, y ha asumido un papel más amplio en contra de la ciencia, rechazando otras medidas de salud pública.

Ahora, los opositores están recurriendo a las legislaturas estatales, e incluso a la Corte Suprema, para despojar a los funcionarios públicos del poder legal que han tenido durante décadas para detener las enfermedades transmitidas por alimentos y las enfermedades infecciosas mediante el cierre de negocios y las cuarentenas, entre otras medidas.

Legisladores de Missouri, Louisiana, Ohio, Virginia y al menos otros 20 estados han elaborado proyectos de ley para limitar los poderes de la salud pública. En algunos estados, estos esfuerzos han fracasado; en otros, los han acogido con entusiasmo.

Mientras tanto, los gobernadores de varios estados, incluidos Wisconsin, Kansas y Michigan, han sido demandados por sus propios legisladores, u otros, por utilizar sus poderes ejecutivos para restringir las operaciones comerciales y exigir máscaras.

En Ohio, un grupo de legisladores busca procesar al gobernador republicano Mike DeWine por sus reglas sobre la pandemia.

Un fallo de 5-4 el mes pasado indicó que la Corte Suprema también está dispuesta a imponer nuevas restricciones a los poderes de la salud pública. Lawrence Gostin, experto en derecho de salud pública de la Universidad Georgetown, en Washington, DC, dijo que la decisión podría animar a legisladores estatales y a gobernadores a buscar limitaciones adicionales.

Junto con la reacción política, muchos funcionarios de salud se han enfrentado a amenazas violentas. En California, un hombre con vínculos con el movimiento de derecha Boogaloo, que está asociado con múltiples asesinatos, fue acusado de acechar y amenazar al funcionario de salud de Santa Clara. Fue arrestado y se declaró inocente.

Linda Vail, funcionaria de salud del condado de Ingham, en Michigan, recibió correos electrónicos y cartas en su casa diciendo que sería “derrocada como la gobernadora”, lo que interpretó como una referencia al intento frustrado de secuestrar a la gobernadora demócrata Gretchen Whitmer.

“Puedo entender completamente por qué algunas personas simplemente se fueron”, dijo. “Hay otros lugares para ir a trabajar”.

A medida que los funcionarios de salud pública a lo largo del país parten, la cuestión de quién ocupa sus lugares preocupa a la doctora Oxiris Barbot, quien dejó su trabajo como comisionada del departamento de salud de la ciudad de Nueva York en agosto en medio de un enfrentamiento con el alcalde demócrata Bill de Blasio.

“Me preocupa si tendrán la fortaleza necesaria para decirles a los funcionarios electos lo que necesitan escuchar en lugar de lo que quieren escuchar”, dijo Barbot.

En el condado de Linn, los casos están aumentando. Hasta el 14 de diciembre, 1 de cada 24 residentes había dado positivo para COVID.

“Por supuesto, podría rendirme y colgar la toalla, pero todavía no he llegado a ese punto”, dijo Coleman.

Ha notado que más personas usan máscaras en estos días.

Pero en la ferretería familiar, todavía no son mandatorias.

Michelle R. Smith es reportera de AP, y Anna Maria Barry-Jester, Hannah Recht y Lauren Weber son reporteras de KHN.

Esta historia es una colaboración entre The Associated Press y KHN (Kaiser Health News), un servicio de noticias sin fines de lucro que cubre temas de salud. Es un programa editorialmente independiente de (Kaiser Family Foundation) que no tiene relación con Kaiser Permanente.

Â鶹ŮÓÅ Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at Â鶹ŮÓÅ—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

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Tisha Coleman has lived in close-knit Linn County, Kansas, for 42 years and never felt so alone.

As the public health administrator, she’s struggled every day of to keep her rural county along the Missouri border safe. In this community with no hospital, she’s failed to persuade her neighbors to wear masks and take precautions against COVID-19, even as cases rise. In return, she’s been harassed, sued, vilified — and called a Democrat, an insult in her circles.

Even her husband hasn’t listened to her, refusing to require customers to wear masks at the family’s hardware store in Mound City.

“People have shown their true colors,” Coleman said. “I’m sure that I’ve lost some friends over this situation.”

By November, the months of fighting over masks and quarantines were already wearing her down. Then she got COVID-19, likely from her husband, who she thinks picked it up at the hardware store. Her mother got it, too, and died on Sunday, 11 days after she was put on a ventilator.

Across the U.S., state and local public health officials such as Coleman have found themselves at the center of a political storm as they combat . Amid a fractured federal response, the usually invisible army of workers charged with preventing the spread of infectious diseases has . Their expertise on how to fight the coronavirus is often disregarded.

Some have become the target of far-right activists, conservative groups and anti-vaccination extremists, who have coalesced around common goals — fighting mask orders, quarantines and contact tracing with protests, threats and personal attacks.

The backlash has moved beyond the angry fringe. In the courts, public health powers are being undermined. Lawmakers in at least 24 states have crafted legislation to weaken public health powers, which could make it more difficult for communities to respond to other health emergencies in the future.

“What we’ve taken for granted for 100 years in public health is now very much in doubt,” said Lawrence Gostin, an expert in public health law at Georgetown University in Washington, D.C.

It is a further erosion of the nation’s already fragile public health infrastructure. At least 181 state and local public health leaders in 38 states have resigned, retired or been fired since April 1, according to an by The Associated Press and KHN. According to experts, this is the largest exodus of public health leaders in American history. An untold number of lower-level staffers has also left.

“I’ve never seen or studied a pandemic that has been as politicized, as vitriolic and as challenged as this one, and I’ve studied a lot of epidemics,” said Dr. Howard Markel, a medical historian at the University of Michigan. “All of that has been very demoralizing for the men and women who don’t make a great deal of money, don’t get a lot of fame, but work 24/7.”

One in 8 Americans — 40 million people — lives in a community that has lost its local public health department leader during the pandemic. Top public health officials in 20 states have left state-level departments, including in North Dakota, which has lost three state health officers since May, one after another.

Many of the state and local officials left due to political blowback or pandemic pressure. Some departed to take higher-profile positions or due to health concerns. Others were fired for poor performance. Dozens retired.

KHN and AP reached out to public health workers and experts in every state and the National Association of County and City Health Officials; examined public records and news reports; and interviewed hundreds to gather the list.

Collectively, the loss of expertise and experience has created a leadership vacuum in the profession, public health experts say. Many health departments are in flux as the nation rolls out and faces what are expected to be the worst months of the pandemic.

“We don’t have a long line of people outside of the door who want those jobs,” said Dr. Gianfranco Pezzino, health officer in Shawnee County, Kansas, who had decided to retire from his job at the end of the year, he said, because he’s burned out. “It’s a huge loss that will be felt probably for generations to come.”

But Pezzino could not even make it to Dec. 31. On Monday, after county commissioners , he .Ìý

“You value the pressure from people with special economic interests more than science and good public health practice,” he to the commissioners. “In full conscience I cannot continue to serve as the health officer for a board that puts being able to patronize bars and sports venues in front of the health, lives and well-being of a majority of its constituents.”

Existing Problems

The departures accelerate problems that had already weakened the nation’s public health system. that per capita spending for state public health departments had dropped by 16%, and for local health departments by 18%, since 2010. At least 38,000 state and local public health jobs have disappeared since the 2008 recession.

Those diminishing resources were already prompting high turnover. Before the pandemic, nearly half of public health workers said in a survey they planned to retire or leave in the next five years. The top reason given was low pay.

Such reduced staffing in departments that have the power and responsibility to manage everything from water inspections to childhood immunizations left public health workforces ill-equipped when COVID-19 arrived. Then, when pandemic shutdowns cut tax revenues, some state and local governments cut their public health workforces further.

“Now we’re at this moment where we need this knowledge and leadership the most, everything has come together to cause that brain drain,” said Chrissie Juliano, executive director of the Big Cities Health Coalition, which represents leaders of more than two dozen public health departments.

Politics as Public Health Poison

Public health experts broadly agree that and save lives and livelihoods. Scientists say that and curtailing indoor activities can also help.

But with the pandemic coinciding with , simple acts such as wearing a mask morphed into , with right-wing conservatives saying such requirements stomped on individual freedom.

On the campaign trail, President Donald Trump ridiculed President-elect Joe Biden for wearing a mask and egged on by tweeting

Coleman, a Christian and a Republican, said that’s just what happened in Linn County. “A lot of people are shamed into not wearing a mask ... because you’re considered a Democrat,” she said. “I’ve been called a ‘sheep.’”

The politicization has put some local governments at odds with their own health officials. In California, near Lake Tahoe, the Placer County Board of Supervisors voted to end a local health emergency and declared support for a widely discredited “herd immunity” strategy, which would let the virus spread. The idea is endorsed by many conservatives, including , as a way to keep the economy running, but it has been denounced by public health experts who say millions more people will unnecessarily suffer and die. The supervisors also endorsed a false conspiracy theory claiming many COVID-19 deaths are not actually from COVID-19.

The meeting occurred just days after county Public Health Officer Dr. Aimee Sisson explained to the board the rigorous standards used for counting COVID-19 deaths. Sisson quit the next day.

In Idaho, protests against public health measures are intensifying. Hundreds of protesters, some armed, and health board members’ homes in Boise on Dec. 8, screaming and blaring air horns. They included members of the anti-vaccination group Health Freedom Idaho.

Dr. Peter Hotez, dean of the National School of Tropical Medicine at Baylor College of Medicine, has tracked the anti-vaccine movement and said it has linked up with political extremists on the right, and taken on a larger anti-science role, pushing back against other public health measures such as contact tracing and physical distancing.

Members of a group called the Freedom Angels in California, which sprung up in 2019 around a state law to tighten vaccine requirements, have been organizing protests at health departments, posing with guns and calling themselves a militia on the group’s Facebook page.

The latest Idaho protests came after a July skirmish in which Ammon Bundy who tried to stop him and his maskless supporters from entering a health meeting.

Bundy, whose family led armed standoffs against federal agents in 2014 and 2016, has become , most recently forming a multistate network called People’s Rights that has organized protests against public health measures.

“We don’t believe they have a right to tell us that we have to put a manmade filter over our face to go outside,” Bundy said. “It’s not about, you know, the mandates or the mask. It’s about them not having that right to do it.”

Kelly Aberasturi, vice chair for the Southwest District Health, which covers six counties, said the worker Bundy shoved was “just trying to do his job.”

Aberasturi, a self-described “extremist” right-wing Republican, said he, too, has been subjected to the backlash. Aberasturi doesn’t support mask mandates, but he did back the board’s recommendation that people in the community wear masks. He said people who believe even a recommendation goes too far have threatened to protest at his house.

The Mask Fight in Kansas

The public health workforce in Kansas has been hit hard — 17 of the state’s 100 health departments have lost their leaders since the end of March.Ìý

Democratic Gov. Laura Kelly in July, but the state legislature allowed counties to opt out. A recent showed the 24 Kansas counties that had upheld the mandate saw a 6% decrease in COVID-19, while the 81 counties that opted out entirely saw a 100% increase.

Coleman, who pushed unsuccessfully for Linn County to uphold the rule, was sued for putting a community member into quarantine, a lawsuit she won. In late November, she spoke at a to discuss a new mask mandate — it was her first day back in the office after her own bout with COVID-19.

She pleaded for a plan to help stem the surge in cases. One resident referenced Thomas Jefferson, saying, “I prefer a dangerous freedom over a peaceful slavery.” Another falsely argued that masks caused elevated carbon dioxide. Few, besides Coleman, wore a mask at the meeting.

Commissioner Mike Page supported the mask order, noting that a close friend was fighting COVID-19 in the hospital and saying he was “ashamed” that members of the community had sued their public health workers while other communities supported theirs.

In the end, the commissioners encouraged community members to wear masks but opted out of a county-wide rule, writing they had determined that they are “not necessary to protect the public health and safety of the county.”

Coleman was disappointed but not surprised. “At least I know I’ve done everything I can to attempt to protect the people,” she said.

The next day, Coleman discussed Christmas decorations with her mother as she drove her to the hospital.

Stripping of Powers

The state bill that let Linn County opt out of the governor’s mask mandate is one of dozens of efforts to erode public health powers in state legislatures across the country.

For decades, government authorities have had the legal power to stop foodborne illnesses and infectious diseases by closing businesses and quarantining individuals, among other measures.

When people contract tuberculosis, for example, the local health department might isolate them, require them to wear a mask when they leave their homes, require family members to get tested, relocate them so they can isolate and make sure they take their medicine. Such measures are meant to protect everyone and avoid the shutdown of businesses and schools.

Now, opponents of those measures are turning to state legislatures and even the Supreme Court to strip public officials of those powers, defund local health departments or even dissolve them. The American Legislative Exchange Council, a corporate-backed group of conservative lawmakers, has published for .

Lawmakers in Missouri, Louisiana, Ohio, Virginia and at least 20 other states have crafted bills to limit public health powers. In some states, the efforts have failed; in others, legislative leaders have embraced them enthusiastically.

Tennessee’s Republican House leadership is backing a bill to constrain the state’s six local health departments, granting their powers to mayors instead. The bill stems from clashes between the mayor of Knox County and the local health board over mask mandates and business closures.

In Idaho, lawmakers to review the authority of local health districts in the next session. The move doesn’t sit right with Aberasturi, who said it’s hypocritical coming from state lawmakers who profess to believe in local control.

Meanwhile, governors in Wisconsin, Kansas and Michigan, among others, have been sued by their own legislators, state think tanks or others for using their executive powers to restrict business operations and require masks. In Ohio, a group of lawmakers is seeking to impeach Republican Gov. Mike DeWine over his pandemic rules.

The U.S. Supreme Court in 1905 found it was constitutional for officials to issue orders to protect the public health, in a case upholding a Cambridge, Massachusetts, requirement to get a smallpox vaccine. But a indicated the majority of justices are willing to put new constraints on those powers.

“It is time — past time — to make plain that, while the pandemic poses many grave challenges, there is no world in which the Constitution tolerates color-coded executive edicts that reopen liquor stores and bike shops but shutter churches, synagogues, and mosques,” Justice Neil Gorsuch wrote.

Gostin, the health law professor, said the decision could embolden state legislators and governors to weaken public health authority, creating “a snowballing effect on the erosion of public health powers and, ultimately, public’s trust in public health and science.”

Who's Left?

Many health officials who have stayed in their jobs have faced not only political backlash but also threats of personal violence. Armed paramilitary groups have put public health in their sights.

In California, a man with ties to the right-wing, anti-government Boogaloo movement was accused of stalking and threatening Santa Clara’s health officer. The suspect was arrested and has pleaded not guilty. The Boogaloo movement is associated with multiple murders, including of a Bay Area sheriff deputy and federal security officer.

Linda Vail, health officer for Michigan’s Ingham County, has received emails and letters at her home saying she’d be “taken down like the governor,” which Vail took to be a reference to . Even as other health officials are leaving, Vail is choosing to stay despite the threats.

“I can completely understand why some people, they’re just done,” she said. “There are other places to go work.”

In mid-November, Danielle Swanson, public health administrator in Republic County, Kansas, said she was planning to resign as soon as she and enough of her COVID-19-positive staff emerged from isolation. Someone threatened to go to her department with a gun because of a quarantine, and she’s received hand-delivered hate mail and calls from screaming residents.

“It’s very stressful. It’s hard on me; it’s hard on my family that I do not see,” she said. “For the longest time, I held through it thinking there’s got to be an end in sight.”

Swanson said some of her employees have told her once she goes, they probably will not stay.

As public health officials depart across the country, the question of who takes their places has plagued Dr. Oxiris Barbot, who in August amid a clash with Democratic Mayor Bill de Blasio. During the height of the pandemic, the mayor empowered the city’s hospital system to lead the fight against COVID-19, passing over her highly regarded department.

“I’m concerned about the degree to which they will have the fortitude to tell elected officials what they need to hear instead of what they want to hear,” Barbot said.

In Kentucky, 189 employees, about 1 in 10, left local health departments from March through Nov. 21, according to Sara Jo Best, public health director of the Lincoln Trail District Health Department. That comes after a decade of decline: Staff numbers fell 49% from 2009 to 2019. She said workers are exhausted and can’t catch up on the overwhelming number of contact tracing investigations, much less run COVID-19 testing, combat flu season and prepare for COVID-19 vaccinations.

And the remaining workforce is aging. According to the de Beaumont Foundation, which advocates for local public health, 42% of governmental public health workers are over age 50.

Back in Linn County, cases are rising. As of Dec. 14, 1 out of every 24 residents has tested positive.

The day after her mother was put on a ventilator, Coleman fought to hold back tears as she described the 71-year-old former health care worker with a strong work ethic.

“Of course, I could give up and throw in the towel, but I’m not there yet,” she said, adding that she will "continue to fight to prevent this happening to someone else.”

Coleman, whose mother died Sunday, has noticed more people are wearing masks these days.

But at the family hardware store, they are still not required.

This story is a collaboration between The Associated Press and KHN.

Methodology

KHN and AP counted how many state and local public health leaders have left their jobs since April 1, or who plan to leave by Dec. 31.

The analysis includes the exits of top department officials regardless of the reason. Some departments have more than one top position and some had multiple top officials leave from the same position over the course of the pandemic.

To compile the list, reporters reached out to public health associations and experts in every state and interviewed hundreds of public health employees. They also received information from the National Association of County and City Health Officials, and combed news reports and public records, such as meeting minutes and news releases.

The population served by each local health department is calculated using the Census Bureau 2019 Population Estimates based on each department’s jurisdiction.

The count of legislation came from reviewing bills in every state, prefiled bills for 2021 sessions, where available, and news reports. The bills include limits on quarantines, contact tracing, vaccine requirements and emergency executive powers.

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By February, as the disease crept across the U.S., Keeley said she found her calling: a career in public health. “This is something that’s going to be necessary,” Keeley remembered thinking. “This is something I can do. This is something I’m interested in.”

In August, Keeley began studying at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign to become an epidemiologist.

Public health programs in the United States have seen a surge in enrollment as the coronavirus has swept through the country, killing more than 246,000 people. As state and local public health departments struggle with unprecedented challenges — slashed budgets, surging demand, staff departures and even threats to workers’ safety — a new generation is entering the field.

Among the more than 100 schools and public health programs that use the common application — a single admissions application form that students can send to multiple schools — there was a 20% increase in applications to master’s in public health programs for the current academic year, to nearly 40,000, according to the Association of Schools and Programs of Public Health.

Some programs are seeing even bigger jumps. Applications to Brown University’s small master’s in public health program rose 75%, according to Annie Gjelsvik, a professor and director of the program.

Demand was so high as the pandemic hit full force in the spring that Brown extended its application deadline by over a month. Seventy students ultimately matriculated this fall, up from 41 last year.

“People interested in public health are interested in solving complex problems,” Gjelsvik said. “The COVID pandemic is a complex issue that’s in the forefront every day.”

It’s too early to say whether the jump in interest in public health programs is specific to that field or reflects a broader surge of interest in graduate programs in general, according to those who track graduate school admissions. Factors such as pandemic-related deferrals and disruptions in international student admissions make it difficult to compare programs across the board.

Magnolia E. Hernández, an assistant dean at Florida International University’s Robert Stempel College of Public Health and Social Work, said new student enrollments in its master’s in public health program grew 63% from last year. The school has especially seen an uptick in interest among Black students, from 21% of newly admitted students last fall to 26.8% this year.

Kelsie Campbell is one of them. She’s part Jamaican and part British. When she heard in both the British and American media that Black and ethnic minorities were being disproportionately hurt by the pandemic, she wanted to focus on why.

“Why is the Black community being impacted disproportionately by the pandemic? Why is that happening?” Campbell asked. “I want to be able to come to you and say ‘This is happening. These are the numbers and this is what we’re going to do.’”

The biochemistry major at Florida International said she plans to explore that when she begins her MPH program at Stempel College in the spring. She said she hopes to eventually put her public health degree to work helping her own community.

“There’s power in having people from your community in high places, somebody to fight for you, somebody to be your voice,” she said.

Public health students are already working on the front lines of the nation’s pandemic response in many locations. Students at Brown’s public health program, for example, are crunching infection data and tracing the spread of the disease for the Rhode Island Department of Health.

Some students who had planned to work in public health shifted their focus as they watched the devastation of COVID-19 in their communities. In college, Emilie Saksvig, 23, double-majored in civil engineering and public health. She was supposed to start working this year as a Peace Corps volunteer to help with water infrastructure in Kenya. She had dreamed of working overseas on global public health.

The pandemic forced her to cancel those plans, and she decided instead to pursue a master’s degree in public health at Emory University.

“The pandemic has made it so that it is apparent that the United States needs a lot of help, too,” she said. “It changed the direction of where I wanted to go.”

These students are entering a field that faced serious challenges even before the pandemic exposed the strains on the underfunded patchwork of state and local public health departments. An analysis by AP and KHN found that since 2010, per capita spending for state public health departments has dropped by 16%, and for local health departments by 18%. At least 38,000 state and local public health jobs have disappeared since the 2008 recession.

And the workforce is aging: Forty-two percent of governmental public health workers are over 50, according to the de Beaumont Foundation, and the field has high turnover. Before the pandemic, nearly half of public health workers said they planned to retire or leave their organizations for other reasons in the next five years. Poor pay topped the list of reasons. Some public health workers are paid so little that they qualify for public aid.

Brian Castrucci, CEO of the de Beaumont Foundation, which advocates for public health, said government public health jobs need to be a “destination job” for top graduates of public health schools.

“If we aren’t going after the best and the brightest, it means that the best and the brightest aren’t protecting our nation from those threats that can, clearly, not only devastate from a human perspective, but from an economic perspective,” Castrucci said.

The pandemic put that already-stressed public health workforce in the middle of what became a pitched political battle over how to contain the disease. As public health officials recommended closing businesses and requiring people to wear masks, many, including Dr. Anthony Fauci, the U.S. government’s top virus expert, faced threats and political reprisals, AP and KHN found. Many were pushed out of their jobs. An ongoing count by AP/KHN has found that more than 100 public health leaders in dozens of states have retired, quit or been fired since April.

Those threats have had the effect of crystallizing for students the importance of their work, said Patricia Pittman, a professor of health policy and management at George Washington University’s Milken Institute School of Public Health.

“Our students have been both indignant and also energized by what it means to become a public health professional,” Pittman said. “Indignant because many of the local and the national leaders who are trying to make recommendations around public health practices were being mistreated. And proud because they know that they are going to be part of that front-line public health workforce that has not always gotten the respect that it deserves.”

Saksvig compared public health workers to law enforcement in the way they both have responsibility for enforcing rules that can alter people’s lives.

“I feel like before the coronavirus, a lot of people didn’t really pay attention to public health,” she said. “Especially now when something like a pandemic is happening, public health people are just on the forefront of everything.”

KHN Midwest correspondent Lauren Weber and KHN senior correspondent Anna Maria Barry-Jester contributed to this report.

This story is a collaboration between The Associated Press and KHN.

Â鶹ŮÓÅ Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at Â鶹ŮÓÅ—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

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Cuando Musicant reubicaba a trabajadores de prevención de la violencia y otros programas básicos, los funcionarios estatales debatían cómo distribuir los $1,87 mil millones que Minnesota había recibido en ayuda federal.

Mientras esperaba, el obtuvo $6 millones en dinero federal para continuar sus operaciones, y una compañía de cobro de deudas fuera de Minneapolis recibió al menos $5 millones del Programa de Protección de Cheques de Pago federal, según datos federales.

No fue hasta el 5 de agosto —meses después de que el Congreso aprobara la ayuda para el coronavirus— que el departamento de Musicant finalmente recibió $1,7 millones, el equivalente a $4 por cada residente de la ciudad.

Desde que comenzó la pandemia, el Congreso ha reservado miles de millones para aliviar la crisis. Una investigación conjunta de Kaiser Health News y Associated Press encuentra que muchas comunidades con grandes brotes han gastado poco de ese dinero federal en los departamentos locales de salud pública para trabajos como pruebas y rastreo de contactos. Otras, como Minnesota, tuvieron respuestas lentas.

Por ejemplo, los estados, territorios y 154 grandes ciudades y condados que recibieron asignaciones del Fondo de Alivio para el Coronavirus de $150 mil millones informaron haber gastado sólo el 25% de ese dinero hasta el 30 de junio, según informes que los destinatarios presentaron al Departamento del Tesoro de los Estados Unidos.

Muchas localidades han utilizado más dinero desde la fecha límite de presentación de informes del 30 de junio, y tanto los gobernadores republicanos como los demócratas dicen que necesitan más para evitar despidos y recortes en servicios estatales vitales.

Aún así, a medida que los casos en los Estados Unidos superan los 5,4 millones y las muertes confirmadas se elevan a más de 171,000, los republicanos en el Congreso señalan la lentitud del gasto para argumentar en contra del envío de más dinero a los gobiernos estatales y locales para ayudar en su respuesta a la pandemia.

El líder de la mayoría republicana del Senado, Mitch McConnell, dijo el martes 11 de agosto que los esfuerzos de los demócratas del Congreso para conseguir más dinero para los estados “no se basan en las matemáticas. No se basan en la pandemia”.

Las negociaciones sobre un nuevo proyecto de ley de ayuda se rompieron hace pocos días, en parte porque los demócratas y los republicanos no se pusieron de acuerdo sobre la financiación de los gobiernos estatales y locales.

KHN y AP solicitaron desgloses detallados de los gastos a los receptores del dinero del Fondo de Ayuda contra el Coronavirus —creado en marzo como parte de la Ley CARES de 1,9 mil millones— y recibieron respuestas de 23 estados y 62 ciudades y condados. Esas entidades dedicaron, hasta junio, el 23% de sus gastos del fondo a la salud pública y el 7% a la salud pública y a la seguridad de la nómina.

Un 22% adicional fue transferido a los gobiernos locales, algunos de los cuales eventualmente lo pasarán a los departamentos de salud.

La lentitud de la ayuda se debe a muchas razones, incluyendo la burocracia, la política y la falta de personal que dificulta a los departamentos navegar por el sistema.

“No tiene sentido para mí que alguien piense que ésta es la manera de hacer las cosas”, dijo E. Oscar Alleyne, jefe de programas y servicios de la Asociación Nacional de Funcionarios de Salud del Condado y la Ciudad.

El Congreso ordenó que el Fondo de Alivio para el Coronavirus se distribuyera a los gobiernos estatales y locales en función de la población. Minneapolis, con 430,000 residentes, no alcanzó el umbral de 500,000 personas que le hubiera permitido recibir dinero directamente.

El estado de Minnesota recibió $1,87 mil millones, una parte de los cuales estaba destinada a ser enviada a las comunidades locales. Los legisladores inicialmente enviaron algo de dinero del estado para ayudar a las comunidades hasta que el dinero federal llegara. El departamento de salud de Minneapolis recibió unos $430,000 en dinero estatal.

Sin embargo, cuando llegó el momento de decidir cómo utilizar el dinero del CARES Act, los legisladores de Minnesota no se pusieron de acuerdo.

Entonces la policía de Minneapolis mató a George Floyd, y la ciudad estalló en protestas por la injusticia racial, haciendo la situación aún más difícil.

Finalmente, el gobernador demócrata Tim Walz decidió repartir el dinero utilizando una fórmula basada en la población, desarrollada anteriormente por los líderes legislativos republicanos y demócratas, que no tenía en cuenta los casos de COVID-19 ni las disparidades raciales.

El estado envió entonces cientos de millones de dólares a las comunidades locales. Aún así, incluso después que el dinero llegara a Minneapolis hace un mes, Musicant esperó a que los líderes de la ciudad decidieran cómo gastarlo.

Una coalición que incluye a la Asociación Nacional de Gobernadores ha culpado de los retrasos en el gasto al gobierno federal, diciendo que la orientación final sobre cómo los estados podrían gastar el dinero no llegó hasta finales de junio. La coalición comunicó que los gobiernos estatales y locales habían actuado “de manera expeditiva y responsable” para utilizar el dinero.

Algunas ciudades recibieron grandes subsidios federales, entre ellas Louisville, en Kentucky, cuyo departamento de salud obtuvo $42 millones en abril, lo que duplicó con creces su presupuesto.

Pero a mediados de julio en Missouri, al menos 50 departamentos de salud locales aún no habían recibido el dinero federal que habían solicitado, según una encuesta estatal. El dinero debe fluir primero a través de los comisionados locales del condado, algunos de los cuales no están dispuestos a enviar dinero a las agencias de salud pública que cerraron los negocios.

El condado rural de Saline, en Missouri, recibió los mismos fondos que los condados de tamaño similar, a pesar de que el virus golpeó la zona con especial dureza, con brotes en una planta de empaquetado de carne y en una fábrica.

Fue a finales de julio cuando $250,000 en dinero de la Ley Federal CARES finalmente llegaron al departamento de salud de 11 personas —demasiado tarde para contratar al ejército de rastreadores de contacto que podrían haber frenado el virus en abril, señaló Tara Brewer, administradora del departamento de salud de Saline.

Algunos funcionarios de salud locales dijeron que el laborioso proceso requerido para calificar para alguna de las ayudas federales también es un problema.

Lisa Harrison, directora de salud pública de Granville Vance Public Health en la zona rural de Carolina del Norte, comentó que resulta duro ver cómo importantes sistemas hospitalarios como la Universidad de Duke reciben decenas de millones de dólares en depósitos directos, mientras que su departamento sólo recibió unos $122,000 a través de tres subvenciones a finales de julio. Su equipo rellenó una solicitud de 25 páginas sólo para conseguir una de ellas.

En Minneapolis, Musicant dijo que el nuevo dinero de CARES permitió al departamento hacer pruebas gratuitas de COVID-19 en una iglesia, a una milla del lugar donde tuvo lugar el asesinato de Floyd.

Hará falta más dinero para hacer todo lo que la comunidad necesita, aseguró Musicant; pero con el Congreso estancado, no está segura de que lo consigan pronto.

Smith es periodista de The Associated Press, y Weber, Recht y Ungar son periodistas de KHN. Los periodistas de AP Camille Fassett y Steve Karnowski colaboraron con este informe.

Esta historia es una colaboración entre y KHN, que es un servicio de noticias sin fines de lucro que cubre temas de salud. Es un programa editorialmente independiente de la . KHN no está afiliada a Kaiser Permanente.

Â鶹ŮÓÅ Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at Â鶹ŮÓÅ—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about .

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While Musicant diverted workers from violence prevention and other core programs to the COVID-19 response, state officials debated how to distribute $1.87 billion Minnesota received in federal aid.

As she waited for federal help, the got $6 million in federal money to continue operations, and a debt collection company outside Minneapolis received at least $5 million from the federal Paycheck Protection Program, according to federal data.

It was not until Aug. 5 — months after Congress approved aid for the pandemic — that Musicant’s department finally received $1.7 million, the equivalent of $4 per Minneapolis resident.

“It’s more a hope and a prayer that we’ll have enough money,” Musicant said.

Since the pandemic began, Congress has set aside trillions of dollars to ease the crisis. A joint KHN and Associated Press investigation finds that many communities with big outbreaks have spent little of that federal money on local public health departments for work such as testing and contact tracing. Others, like Minnesota, were slow to do so.

For example, the states, territories and 154 large cities and counties that received allotments from the $150 billion Coronavirus Relief Fund reported spending only 25% of it through June 30, according to reports that recipients submitted to the U.S. Treasury Department.

Many localities have deployed more money since that June 30 reporting deadline, and both Republican and Democratic governors say they need more to avoid layoffs and cuts to vital state services. Still, as cases in the U.S. top 5.2 million and deaths soar past 167,000, Republicans in Congress are pointing to the slow spending to argue against sending more money to state and local governments to help with their pandemic response.

“States and localities have only spent about a fourth of the money we already sent them in the springtime,” Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said Tuesday. Congressional Democrats’ efforts to get more money for states, he said, “aren’t based on math. They aren’t based on the pandemic.”

Negotiations over a new pandemic relief bill broke down last week, in part because Democrats and Republicans could not agree on funding for state and local governments.

KHN and the AP requested detailed spending breakdowns from recipients of money from the Coronavirus Relief Fund — created in March as part of the $1.9 trillion CARES Act — and received responses from 23 states and 62 cities and counties. Those entities dedicated 23% of their spending from the fund through June to public health and 7% to public health and safety payroll.

An additional 22% was transferred to local governments, some of which will eventually pass it down to health departments. The rest went to other priorities, such as distance learning.

So little money has flowed to some local health departments for many reasons: Bureaucracy has bogged things down, politics have crept into the process, and understaffed departments have struggled to take time away from critical needs to navigate the red tape required to justify asking for extra dollars.

“It does not make sense to me how anyone thinks this is a way to do business,” said E. Oscar Alleyne, chief of programs and services at the National Association of County and City Health Officials. “We are never going to get ahead of the pandemic response if we are still handicapped.”

Last month, KHN and the AP detailed how state and local public health departments across the U.S. have been starved for decades. Over 38,000 public health worker jobs have been lost since 2008, and per capita spending on local health departments has been cut by 18% since 2010. That’s left them underfunded and without adequate resources to confront the coronavirus pandemic.

“Public health has been cut and cut and cut over the years, but we’re so valuable every time you turn on the television,” said Jan Morrow, the director and 41-year veteran of Ripley County health department in rural Missouri. “We are picking up all the pieces, but the money is not there. They’ve cut our budget until there’s nothing left.”

Politics and Red Tape

Why did the Minneapolis health department have to wait so long for CARES Act money?

Congress mandated that the Coronavirus Relief Fund be distributed to states and local governments based on population. Minneapolis, with 430,000 residents, missed the threshold of 500,000 people that would have allowed it to receive money directly.

The state of Minnesota, however, received $1.87 billion, a portion of which was meant to be sent to local communities. Lawmakers initially sent some state money to tide communities over until the federal money came through — the Minneapolis health department got about $430,000 in state money to help pay for things like testing.

But when it came time to decide how to use the CARES Act money, lawmakers in Minnesota’s Republican-controlled Senate and Democratic-controlled House were at loggerheads.

Myron Frans, commissioner of Minnesota Management and Budget, said that disagreement, on top of the economic crisis and pandemic, left the legislature in turmoil.

After the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis, the city erupted in protests over racial injustice, making a difficult situation even more challenging.

Democratic Gov. Tim Walz favored targeting some of the money to harder-hit communities, a move that might have helped Minneapolis, where cases have surged since mid-July. But lawmakers couldn’t agree. Negotiations dragged on, and a special session merely prolonged the standoff.

Finally, the governor divvied up the money using a population-based formula developed earlier by Republican and Democratic legislative leaders that did not take into account COVID-19 caseloads or racial disparities.

“We knew we needed to get it out the door,” Frans said.

The state then sent hundreds of millions of dollars to local communities. Still, even after the money got to Minneapolis a month ago, Musicant had to wait as city leaders made difficult choices about how to spend the money as the economy cratered and the list of needs grew.

“Even when it gets to the local government, you still have to figure out how to get it to local public health,” Musicant said.

Meanwhile, some in Minneapolis have noticed a lack of services. Dr. Jackie Kawiecki has been providing help to people at a volunteer medical station near the place where Floyd was killed ― an area that at times has drawn hundreds or thousands of people per day. She said the city did not do enough free, easy-to-access testing in its neighborhoods this summer.

“I still don’t think that the amount of testing offered is adequate, from a public health standpoint,” Kawiecki said.

A coalition of groups that includes the National Governors Association has blamed the spending delays on the federal government, saying the final guidance on how states could spend the money came late in June, shortly before the reporting period ended. The coalition said state and local governments had moved “expeditiously and responsibly” to use the money as they deal with skyrocketing costs for health care, emergency response and other vital programs.

New York’s Nassau County was among six counties, cities and states that had spent at least 75% of its funds by June 30.

While most of the money was not spent before then, the National Association of State Budget Officers says a July 23 survey of 45 states and territories found they had allocated, or set aside, an average of 74% of the money.

But if they have, that money has been slow to make it to many local health departments.

As of mid-July in Missouri, at least 50 local health departments had yet to receive any of the federal money they requested, according to a state survey. The money must first flow through local county commissioners, some of whom aren’t keen on sending money to public health agencies.

“You closed their businesses down in order to save their people’s lives and so that hurt the economy,” said Larry Jones, executive director of the Missouri Center for Public Health Excellence, an organization of public health leaders. “So they’re mad at you and don’t want to give you money.”

The winding path federal money takes as it makes its way to states and cities also could exacerbate the stark economic and health inequalities in the U.S. if equity isn’t considered in decision-making, said Wizdom Powell, director of the University of Connecticut Health Disparities Institute.

“Problems are so vast you could unintentionally further entrench inequities just by how you distribute funds,” Powell said.

‘Everything Fell Behind’

The amounts eventually distributed can induce head-scratching.

Some cities received large federal grants, including Louisville, Kentucky, whose health department was given $42 million by April, more than doubling its annual budget. Because of the way the money was distributed, Louisville’s health department alone received more money from the CARES Act than the entire government of the city of Minneapolis, which received $32 million in total.

Philadelphia’s health department was awarded $100 million from a separate fund from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Honolulu County, where COVID cases have remained relatively low, received $124,454 for every positive case it had reported as of Aug. 9, while El Paso County in Texas got just $1,685 per case. Multnomah County, Oregon — with nearly a quarter of its state’s COVID-19 cases — landed only 2%, or $28 million, of the state’s $1.6 billion allotment.

Rural Saline County in Missouri received the same funding as counties of similar size, even though the virus hit the area particularly hard. In April, outbreaks began tearing through a Cargill meatpacking plant and a local factory there. By late May, the health department confirmed 12 positive cases at a local jail.

Tara Brewer, Saline’s health department administrator, said phone lines were ringing off the hook, jamming the system. Eventually, several department employees handed out their personal cellphone numbers to take calls from residents looking to be tested or seeking care for coronavirus symptoms.

“Everything fell behind,” Brewer said.

The school vaccination clinic in April was canceled, and a staffer who works as a Spanish translator for the Women, Infants and Children nutritional program was enlisted to contact-trace for additional COVID-19 exposures. All food inspections stopped.

It was late July when $250,000 in federal CARES Act money finally reached the 11-person health department, Brewer said — four months after Congress approved the spending and three months after the county’s first outbreak.

That was far too late for Brewer to hire the army of contact tracers that might have helped slow the spread of the virus back in April. She said the money already has been spent on antibody testing and reimbursements for groceries and medical equipment the department had bought for quarantined residents.

Another problem: Some local health officials say that the laborious process required to qualify for some of the federal aid discourages overworked public health officials from even trying to secure more money and that funds can be uneven in arriving.

Lisa Macon Harrison, public health director for Granville Vance Public Health in rural Oxford, North Carolina, said it’s tough to watch major hospital systems — some of which are sitting on billions in reserves — receive direct deposits, while her department received only about $122,000 through three grants by the end of July. Her team filled out a 25-page application just to get one of them.

She is now waiting to receive an estimated $400,000 more. By contrast, the Duke University Hospital System, which includes a facility that serves Granville, already has received over $67.3 million from the federal Provider Relief Fund.

“I just don’t understand the extra layers of onus for the bureaucracy, especially if hundreds of millions of dollars are going to the hospitals and we have to be responsible to apply for 50 grants,” she said.

The money comes from dozens of funds, including several programs within the CARES Act. Nebraska alone received money from 76 federal COVID relief funding sources.

Robert Miller, director of health for the Eastern Highlands Health District in Connecticut, which covers 10 towns, received $29,596 of the $2.5 million the state distributed to local departments from the CDC fund and nothing from CARES. It was only enough to pay for some contact tracing and employee mileage.

Miller said that he could theoretically apply for a little more from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, but that the reporting requirements — which include collecting every receipt — are extremely cumbersome for an already overburdened department.

So he wonders: “Is the squeeze worth the juice?”

Back in Minneapolis, Musicant said the new money from CARES allowed the department to run a free COVID-19 testing site Saturday, at a church that serves the Hispanic community about a mile from the site of Floyd’s killing.

It will take more money to do everything the community needs, she says, but with Congress deadlocked, she’s not sure they’ll get it anytime soon.

AP writers Camille Fassett and Steve Karnowski contributed to this report.

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One of the latest departures came Sunday, when California’s public health director, Dr. Sonia Angell, was ousted following a technical glitch that caused a delay in reporting virus test results — information used to make decisions about reopening businesses and schools.

Last week, New York City’s health commissioner was replaced after months of friction with the police department and City Hall.

A review by KHN and The Associated Press finds at least 49 state and local public health leaders have resigned, retired or been fired since April across 23 states. The list has grown by more than 20 people since the AP and KHN started keeping track in June.

Dr. Tom Frieden, former director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, called the numbers stunning. He said they reflect burnout, as well as attacks on public health experts and institutions from the highest levels of government, including from President Donald Trump, who has sidelined the CDC during the pandemic.

“The overall tone toward public health in the U.S. is so hostile that it has kind of emboldened people to make these attacks,” Frieden said.

The past few months have been “frustrating and tiring and disheartening” for public health officials, said former West Virginia public health commissioner Dr. Cathy Slemp, who was forced to resign by Republican Gov. Jim Justice in June.

“You care about community, and you’re committed to the work you do and societal role that you’re given. You feel a duty to serve, and yet it’s really hard in the current environment,” Slemp said in an interview Monday.

The departures come at a time when public health expertise is needed more than ever, said Lori Tremmel Freeman, CEO of the National Association of County and City Health Officials.

“We’re moving at breakneck speed here to stop a pandemic, and you can’t afford to hit the pause button and say, ‘We’re going to change the leadership around here and we’ll get back to you after we hire somebody,’” Freeman said.

As of Monday, confirmed infections in the United States stood at over 5 million, with deaths topping 163,000, the highest in the world, according to the count kept by Johns Hopkins University researchers. The confirmed number of coronavirus cases worldwide topped 20 million.

Many of the firings and resignations have to do with conflicts over mask orders or shutdowns to enforce social distancing, Freeman said. Despite the scientific evidence that such measures help prevent transmission of the coronavirus, many politicians and others have argued they are not needed, no matter what health experts tell them.

“It’s not a health divide; it’s a political divide,” Freeman said.

Some health officials said they were stepping down for family reasons, and some left for jobs at other agencies, such as the CDC. Some, , were ousted because of what higher-ups said was or a failure to do their job.

Others have complained that they were overworked, underpaid, unappreciated or thrust into a pressure-cooker environment.

“To me, a lot of the divisiveness and the stress and the resignations that are happening right and left are the consequence of the lack of a real national response plan,” said Dr. Matt Willis, health officer for Marin County in Northern California. “And we’re all left scrambling at the local and state level to extract resources and improvise solutions.”

Public health leaders from Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, down to officials in small communities have reported death threats and intimidation. Some have seen their home addresses published or been the subject of sexist attacks on social media. Fauci has said his have received threats.

In Ohio, the state’s health director, Dr. Amy Acton, resigned in June after months of pressure during which Republican lawmakers tried to strip her of her authority and armed protesters showed up at her house.

It was on Acton’s advice that GOP Gov. Mike DeWine became the first governor to shut down schools statewide. Acton also called off the state’s presidential primary in March just hours before polls were to open, angering those who saw it as an overreaction.

The executive director of Las Animas-Huerfano Counties District Health Department in Colorado, Kim Gonzales, found her car vandalized twice, and a group called Colorado Counties for Freedom ran a radio ad demanding that her authority be reduced. Gonzales has remained on the job.

In West Virginia, the governor forced Slemp’s resignation over what he said were discrepancies in the data. Slemp said the department’s work had been hurt by and slow computer networks. Tom Inglesby, director of the UPMC Center for Health Security at Johns Hopkins, said the issue amounted to a clerical error easily fixed.

Inglesby said it was deeply concerning that public health officials who told “uncomfortable truths” to political leaders had been removed.

“That’s terrible for the national response because what we need for getting through this, first of all, is the truth. We need data, and we need people to interpret the data and help political leaders make good judgments,” Inglesby said.

Since 2010, spending on state public health departments has dropped 16% per capita, and the amount devoted to local health departments has fallen 18%, according to a KHN and AP analysis. At least 38,000 state and local public health jobs have disappeared since the 2008 recession, leaving a skeleton workforce for what was once viewed as one of the world’s top public health systems.

Another sudden departure came Monday along the Texas border. Dr. Jose Vazquez, the Starr County health authority, resigned after a proposal to increase his pay from $500 to $10,000 a month was rejected by county commissioners.

Starr County Judge Eloy Vera, a county commissioner who supported the raise, said Vazquez had been working 60 hours per week in the county, one of the poorest in the U.S. and recently one of those hit hardest by the virus.

“He felt it was an insult,” Vera said.

In Oklahoma, both the state health commissioner and state epidemiologist have been replaced since the outbreak began in March.

In rural Colorado, Emily Brown was fired in late May as director of the Rio Grande County Public Health Department after clashing with county commissioners over reopening recommendations. The person who replaced her resigned July 9.

The months of nonstop and often unappreciated work are prompting many public health workers to leave, said Theresa Anselmo of the Colorado Association of Local Public Health Officials.

“It will certainly slow down the pandemic response and become less coordinated,” she said. “Who’s going to want to take on this career if you’re confronted with the kinds of political issues that are coming up?”

Weber reported from St. Louis. Associated Press writers Paul Weber, Sean Murphy and Janie Har and California Healthline senior correspondent Anna Maria Barry-Jester contributed reporting.

This story is a collaboration between KHN and The Associated Press.

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Republican Gov. Jim Justice  Dr. Cathy Slemp’s resignation on June 24. He complained about discrepancies in the number of active cases and accused Slemp of not doing her job. He has .

In her first comments about what happened, Slemp declined in a series of interviews to directly discuss the governor’s decision, saying she wanted to focus on improving the public health system. She defended how the data was handled and she detailed how money dwindled over the years. That meant fewer staff members, and they were hobbled by outdated technology that slowed their everyday work and their focus on the coronavirus.

Among the challenges: a computer network so slow that employees would sometimes lose their work when it timed out; the public’s demand for real-time data; and a struggle to feed information into systems designed when faxes were considered high-speed communication.

“We are driving a great-aunt’s Pinto when what you need is to be driving a Ferrari,” Slemp said.

A joint investigation published this month by KHN and The Associated Press detailed how state and local public health departments across the country have been starved for decades, leaving them underfunded and without adequate resources to confront the pandemic.

In West Virginia, spending on public health fell by 27% from 2010 to 2018, according to an AP/KHN analysis of data provided by the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials. Full-time jobs in the state public health department dropped from 875 in 2007 to 620 in 2019, according to the group.

Slemp said the staffing numbers were even worse than that when the pandemic hit because between 20% and 25% of all health department jobs were vacant. In epidemiology, the vacancy rate was 30%.

Those kinds of cuts “absolutely” had an effect on the department’s operations, she said.

At the beginning of the pandemic, Slemp said, workers received stacks of faxed lab reports that had to be entered manually, even though they had spent two decades trying to persuade some hospital and commercial labs to send their results electronically. After her department required it, she said, 37 labs started filing electronically within a week.

“There was a political will and a societal will to say, ‘We need to fix this,’” Slemp said.

Public health staffers had to come up with time-consuming workarounds, such as entering information about disease outbreaks onto paper forms because their computer systems weren’t designed for such work. That was the source of Justice’s complaints, which centered on exactly how many active cases of COVID-19 were in a prison, she said.

In Randolph County, where the prison is, a top local health official said confusion about the number of cases at the facility emerged because the state’s cumbersome electronic reporting system required thorough information on an infected person’s contacts before a case could be deemed cleared.

In an email, Bonnie Woodrum of the Randolph-Elkins Health Department said that it “hurt a little to be singled out as reporting inaccurate numbers” but that “it’s just a case of a small health department attempting to use an electronic reporting system that has never been easy to use.”

The problem had no impact on the ability to track new diseases in the state, Slemp said. Indeed, she said, the disputed data from the prison outbreak was being tracked, but it wasn’t getting entered as quickly as the more critical data for new cases, which they prioritized.

“Because that’s where the public health action is most critical,” Slemp said.

Slemp’s forced resignation drew criticism from leading national figures in public health, including Tom Inglesby of the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health. Inglesby, who serves with Slemp on the board of scientific counselors at the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, praised Slemp’s management of the coronavirus in West Virginia.

He said the issue appeared to be a clerical error that was easily fixed.

“It’s a little like shooting the messenger,” Inglesby said.

Slemp said the governor never discussed his complaints with her before he demanded her resignation.

It’s challenging to be a public health leader “in a world that wants immediate information and definitive answers, when reality is, there are nuances,” she said. “Sometimes political expediency can conflict with public health practice.”

Smith reported from Providence, Rhode Island. KHN data reporter Hannah Recht contributed to this report

This story is a collaboration between The Associated Press and KHN.

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Mientras enfrentan juntos una pandemia que ha enfermado al menos a 2.3 millones de personas en el país, y matado a más de 120,000, y que ha costado millones de empleos y $3 mil millones en dinero de rescate federal, a los trabajadores de salud de los gobiernos estatales y locales a veces se les paga tan poco que califican para ayuda pública. Rastrean al coronavirus en registros compartidos por fax. Trabajando los siete días de la semana por meses, temiendo que se congelen sus salarios, que los despidan, e incluso la reacción negativa del público.

Desde 2010, el gasto para los departamentos de salud pública estatales ha disminuido un 16% per cápita, y el ha bajado un 18%, según un análisis de KHN y Associated Press. Al menos 38,000 empleos de salud pública locales y estatales han desaparecido desde la recesión de 2008, dejando en algunos lugares una fuerza laboral esquelética.

KHN y AP entrevistaron a más de 150 trabajadores de salud pública, legisladores y expertos, analizaron registros de gastos de cientos de departamentos de salud estatales y locales, e indagaron en las legislaturas estatales. La investigación reveló que, a todo nivel, el sistema está amenazado por la falta de financiación y medios.

A lo largo del tiempo, los departamentos de salud estatales y locales han recibido tan poco apoyo que se encontraron sin dirección, ignorados e incluso vilipendiados.

En medio de la recesión económica causada por la pandemia, los estados, las ciudades y los condados han comenzado a cesantear y despedir al personal, aun cuando los estados están reabriendo y comienzan a aumentar los casos de COVID.

“No le decimos al departamento de bomberos, ‘lo siento. No hubo incendios el año pasado, por lo que vamos a quitarle el 30% de su presupuesto’. Eso sería una locura, ¿verdad?”, dijo el doctor Gianfranco Pezzino, oficial de salud en el condado de Shawnee, en Kansas. “Pero lo hacemos con la salud pública, día tras día”.

El Departamento de Salud del condado de Toledo-Lucas, en Ohio, gastó solo $40 por persona en 2017. Cuando atacó el coronavirus, tenía tan poco personal que las tareas de Jennifer Gottschalk, supervisora ​​de salud ambiental, incluían supervisar las inspecciones de campamentos y piscinas, y el control de roedores, además de la preparación para brotes.

Cuando Gottschalk, de 42 años, y cinco colegas se enfermaron con COVID-19, se encontró respondiendo llamadas de trabajo desde su cama del hospital. “Tienes que hacer lo que tienes que hacer para que el trabajo se haga”, expresó.

Casi dos tercios de los estadounidenses viven en condados que gastan más del doble en vigilancia policial que en la atención médica no hospitalaria, que incluye la salud pública.

La subvaloración de la salud pública contrasta con su papel multidimensional. A diferencia del sistema de atención médica que está dirigido a las personas, el de salud pública se centra en la salud de las comunidades en general. Las agencias están legalmente obligadas a proporcionar una amplia gama de servicios esenciales.

“A la salud pública le encanta decir: cuando hacemos nuestro trabajo, no pasa nada. Pero nadie nos da una medalla por eso”, dijo Scott Becker, director ejecutivo de la Asociación de Laboratorios de Salud Pública. “Les hacemos pruebas al 97% de los bebés de los Estados Unidos para detectar trastornos metabólicos, y otros problemas. Testeamos el agua. ¿Te gusta nadar en el lago y no te gusta que tenga excremento? Piensa en nosotros”.

El público no ve los desastres que se evitan. Y es fácil no prestar atención a lo que no vemos.

Una historia de privaciones

Las promesas ocasionales del gobierno federal de apoyar los esfuerzos locales de salud pública han sido efímeras.

Por ejemplo, la Ley de Cuidado de Salud a Bajo Precio (ACA) estableció el Fondo de Prevención y Salud Pública, que se suponía alcanzaría los $2 mil millones anuales para 2015. Pero la administración Obama y el Congreso lo postergaron por otras prioridades, y ahora la administración Trump está presionando para derogar ACA, lo cual lo eliminaría.

Si no se hubiera tocado, los departamentos de salud estatales y locales hubieran recibido eventualmente un monto adicional de $12.4 mil millones, lo que los hubiera fortalecido frente a la actual pandemia.

Los líderes locales y estatales tampoco lograron priorizar la salud pública. En Carolina del Norte, por ejemplo, la fuerza laboral de salud pública del condado de Wake se redujo de 882 personas en 2007 a 614 una década después, incluso cuando la población creció un 30%.

Años de recortes financieros dejaron frágil a esta fuerza laboral predominantemente femenina. En 2017, más de una quinta parte de los trabajadores de salud pública en los departamentos locales o regionales fuera de las grandes ciudades ganaron $35,000 o menos al año, según realizada por la Asociación de Oficiales de Salud Territoriales y Estatales y la Fundación Beaumont.

planean retirarse o irse de sus organizaciones en los próximos cinco años, y la razón que encabeza la lista es una remuneración deficiente.

Hace dos años, Julia Crittendon, ahora de 46 años, aceptó un trabajo en el departamento de salud estatal de Kentucky. Pasaba sus días reuniendo información sobre las parejas sexuales de las personas para combatir la propagación del VIH y la sífilis. Ganaba tan poco que calificó para Medicaid, el programa de salud federal gerenciado por los estados para los estadounidenses de bajos recursos. Al no ver oportunidades de crecimiento, renunció.

Desde que comenzó la pandemia, líderes de salud pública estatales y locales . Desde abril, al menos 32 presentaron su renuncia, se retiraron o fueron despedidos en 16 estados, según una revisión de KHN/AP.

De mal en peor

Scott Lockard, director de salud pública para el Departamento de Salud del distrito Kentucky River, en Appalachia, está luchando contra el virus con un servicio celular 3G, registros en papel y un tercio de los empleados comparado con los que tenía el departamento hace 20 años.

En la zona rural de Missouri, Melanie Hutton, administradora del Centro de Salud Pública del condado de Cooper, dijo que su estado le dio $18,000 al servicio de ambulancias local para combatir COVID y proporcionó máscaras a los departamentos de bomberos y policía.

“Para nosotros, ni una moneda de cinco centavos, ni una máscara”, contó. “Obtuvimos [cinco] galones de desinfectante de manos casero hecho por prisioneros”.

La Asociación de Oficiales de Salud Territoriales y Estatales dijo que, desde que comenzó la pandemia, el gobierno federal ha asignado más de $13 mil millones para actividades de los departamentos de salud estatales y locales, incluyendo rastreo de contactos, control de infecciones y actualizaciones tecnológicas.

Pero al menos 14 estados ya han recortado los presupuestos o los empleos del departamento de salud, o estuvieron considerando activamente estos recortes en junio, según una revisión de KHN/AP.

Las reducciones amenazan con limitar programas cruciales como clínicas de inmunización, control de mosquitos, diabetes y programas de nutrición para adultos mayores. Estos recortes pueden hacer que las comunidades ya vulnerables lo sean aún más, dijo E. Oscar Alleyne, jefe de programas y servicios de la Asociación Nacional de Oficiales de Salud del Condado y la Ciudad.

Las personas que han pasado sus vidas trabajando en la salud pública temen estar viendo un patrón que les resulta familiar: los funcionarios descuidan esta infraestructura y luego, cuando surge una crisis, responden con una rápida inyección de efectivo.

Si bien ese dinero temporal es necesario para combatir la pandemia, expertos en salud pública dicen que no solucionará la base erosionada, que es la encargada de proteger la salud de la nación mientras miles continúan muriendo.

Contribuyeron con este informe: los escritores de Associated Press Mike Stobbe en Nueva York; Mike Householder en Toledo, Ohio; Lindsay Whitehurst en Salt Lake City, Utah; Brian Witte en Annapolis, Maryland; Jim Anderson en Denver; Sam Metz en Carson City, Nevada; Summer Ballentine en Jefferson City, Missouri; Alan Suderman en Richmond, Virginia; Sean Murphy en Oklahoma City, Oklahoma; Mike Catalini en Trenton, New Jersey; David Eggert en Lansing, Michigan; Andrew DeMillo en Little Rock, Arkansas; Jeff Amy en Atlanta; Melinda Deslatte en Baton Rouge, Louisiana; Morgan Lee en Santa Fe, New Mexico; Mark Scolforo en Harrisburg, Pennsylvania; y el escritor de Economía de AP Christopher Rugaber, en Washington, D.C.

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