These Front-Line Workers Could Have Retired. They Risked Their Lives Instead.
Sonia Brown鈥檚 husband died on June 10. Two weeks later, the 65-year-old registered nurse was back at work. Her husband鈥檚 medical bills and a car payment loomed over her head.
鈥淪he wanted to make sure all those things were taken care of before she retired,鈥 her son David said.
David and his sister begged her not to go back to work during the coronavirus pandemic 鈥 explaining their concerns about her age and diabetes 鈥 but she didn鈥檛 listen.
鈥淪he was like the Little Engine That Could. She just powered through everything,鈥 David said.
But her invincibility couldn鈥檛 withstand COVID-19, and on 29 July she died after contracting the deadly virus.
Sonia鈥檚 death is far from unusual. Despite from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention that adults 65 and older are at a higher risk from COVID-19, have found that 338 front-line workers in that age group continued to work and likely died of complications from the virus after exposure on the job. Some were in their 80s 鈥 oftentimes physicians or registered nurses who cherished decades-long relationships with their patients and didn鈥檛 see retirement as an option.
The aging workers had a variety of motivations for risking their lives during the pandemic. Some felt pressured by employers to compensate for staffing shortages as the virus swept through departments. Others felt a higher sense of duty to their profession. Now their families are left to grapple with the same question: Would their loved one still be alive if he or she had stayed home?
鈥楢ll of This Could Have Been Prevented鈥
Aleyamma John was what her son, Ginu, described as a 鈥減rayerful woman.鈥 Her solace came from working and caring for others. Her 38-year nursing career started in Mumbai, India. She immigrated with her husband to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, where she worked for several years and had her two children. In 2002, the family moved to New York, and she took a job at NYC Health + Hospitals in Queens.
In early March, as cases surged across New York, Ginu asked his 65-year-old mother to retire. Her lungs were already weakened by an inflammatory disease, sarcoidosis.
鈥淲e told her very clearly, 鈥楳om, this isn鈥檛 something that we should take lightly, and you definitely need to stay home.鈥欌
鈥淚 don鈥檛 feel like the hospital will allow me to do that,鈥 she responded.
Ginu described the camaraderie his mother shared with her co-workers, a bond that grew deeper during the pandemic. Many of her fellow nurses got sick themselves, and Aleyamma felt she had to step up.
Some of her co-workers 鈥渨ere quarantined [and did] not come into work,鈥 he said. 鈥淗er department took a pretty heavy hit.鈥
By the third week of March, she started showing symptoms of COVID-19. A few days in, she suggested it might be best for her to go to the hospital.
鈥淚 think she knew it was not going to go well,鈥 Ginu said. 鈥淏ut she found it in her heart to give us strength, which I thought was just insanely brave.鈥
Aleyamma ended up on a ventilator, something she assured Ginu wouldn鈥檛 be necessary. Her family was observing a virtual Palm Sunday service on 5 April when they got the call that she had died.
鈥淲e prayed that she would be able to come back, but that didn鈥檛 happen,鈥 Ginu said.
Aleyamma and her husband, Johnny, who retired a few years ago, had been waiting to begin their next adventure.
鈥淚f organizations cared about their staff, especially staff who were vulnerable, if they provided for them and protected them, all of this could have been prevented,鈥 Ginu said.
Commitment to Their Oath
In non-pandemic times, Sheena Miles considered herself semi-retired. She worked every other weekend at Scott Regional Hospital in Morton, Mississippi, mainly because she loved nursing and her patients. When Scott County emerged as a hot spot for the virus, Sheena worked four weekends in a row.
Her son, Tom, a member of Mississippi鈥檚 House of Representatives, called her one night to remind her she did not need to go to work.
鈥淵ou don鈥檛 understand,鈥 Sheena told her son. 鈥淚 have an oath to do this. I don鈥檛 have a choice.鈥
Over Easter weekend, she began exhibiting COVID-like symptoms. By Thursday, her husband drove her to the University of Mississippi Medical Center in Jackson.
鈥淪he walked in and she never came out,鈥 Tom said.
Tom said his mom 鈥渓aid her life down鈥 for the residents of Morton.
鈥淪he knew the chances that she was taking,鈥 he said. 鈥淪he just felt it was her duty to serve and to be there for people.鈥
Serving the community also was at the heart of Dr. Robert 鈥淩ay鈥 Hull鈥檚 family medicine clinic in Rogers, Arkansas. He opened the clinic in 1972 and, according to his son Keith, had no intentions of leaving until his last breath.
鈥淗e was one of the first family physicians in northwest Arkansas,鈥 Keith said. 鈥淪everal people asked him if he was going to retire. His answer was always no.鈥
At the ripe age of 78, Dr. Hull continued to make house calls, black bag in hand. His wife worked alongside him in the office. Keith said the whole staff took proper precautions to keep the virus at bay, so when his father tested positive for COVID-19, it came as a shock.
Keith wasn鈥檛 able to visit his father at the hospital before he died on June 7. He said the funeral was even harder. Due to COVID restrictions on crowd sizes, he had to ask patients from Arkansas, Oklahoma and Missouri to stay home.
鈥淭here鈥檚 not a coliseum, arena or stadium that would have held his funeral,鈥 Keith said. 鈥淓verybody knew my dad.鈥
鈥楽he Was Afraid She Was Going to Get Sick鈥
Nancy MacDonald, at 74, got bored at home. That鈥檚 why her daughter, Bethany, said retirement never stuck for her. So in 2017, Nancy took a job as a receptionist at Orchard View Manor, a nursing home in East Providence, Rhode Island.
Although technically she worked the night shift, her co-workers could rely on her to pick up extra shifts without question.
鈥淚f somebody called her and said, 鈥極h, I鈥檓 not feeling well. I can鈥檛 come in,鈥 she was right there. That was just the way she was,鈥 Bethany said.
Nursing homes across the country have of COVID-19, and Orchard View was no exception. By mid-April, the facility had 20 deaths. Nancy鈥檚 position was high-contact; residents and staff were in and out of the reception area all day.
At the onset of the pandemic, Orchard View had a limited supply of PPE. Bethany said they prioritized giving it to workers 鈥渙n the floor,鈥 primarily those handling patient care. Her mother鈥檚 position was on the back burner.
鈥淲hen they gave her a[n N95] mask, they also gave her a brown paper bag,鈥 she said. 鈥淲hen she left work, they told her to put the mask in the bag.鈥
Nancy鈥檚 managers reiterated that she was an essential employee, so she continued showing up. In personal conversations with her daughter, however, she was fearful about what might happen. At her age, she was considered high-risk. Nancy saw the isolation that Orchard View residents experienced when they contracted the coronavirus. She didn鈥檛 want that to be her.
鈥淪he was afraid she was going to get sick,鈥 Bethany said. 鈥淪he was afraid to die alone.鈥
Following her death on April 25, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration opened an investigation into the facility. So far, Orchard View has been fined more than
A spokesperson for Orchard View told KHN the facility had 鈥渆xtensive infection control.鈥 The facility declined to comment further.
Bethany MacDonald believes health care systems often exclude receptionists, janitors and technical workers from conversations on protecting the front line.
鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 matter what the job is, they are on the front line. You don鈥檛 have to be a doctor to be on the front line,鈥 she said.