This guest post was written by Jorge Salinas, MD, Hospital Epidemiologist at the University of Iowa Hospitals & Clinics.
Her saturation had dropped to 89. Fever persisted. She was being
admitted. This was the telegraphic message that started a roller coaster of a
week. My mother had been symptomatic for a few days but had suddenly worsened. By
7:45 that same morning, we received confirmation—shipment was completed, 975
doses were on the dock, the vaccination deployment plan was a go.
A quick morning huddle. Everyone knew their positions and
what to do: teams to prepare the doses, employee health nurses to administer
them, planners to manage schedules. It was nicely choreographed and rehearsed.
ED nurse, environmental services custodian, doctor, resident.
How many people received the dose before me? Ten? Twenty? Jorge, this way. Immediately
after the shot, I was asked, on camera, how I felt now that I had received the precious
vaccine. This was undoubtedly a triumph of science. One of the greatest medical
breakthroughs in years. And I had received it. Yet, I couldn’t avoid feeling
unworthy of it. Because I am part of our system pandemic response I had more
access to the vaccine than those more at risk. I had reluctantly persuaded
myself that being a Hospital Epidemiologist and a Hispanic physician it would
be advantageous to our response. To lead by example, show my healthcare
colleagues here and abroad that I have confidence in the vaccine development
process, that these vaccines are efficacious and safe. Took a big swallow,
don’t think of mom right now, take a deep breath, go on.
I am not an ethicist. I believe that the fair allocation of
scarce resources is one of the hardest feats in medicine. We had debated
extensively: how could we allocate these first thousand doses amongst almost
20,000 healthcare workers? Who should get it? Those over the age of 65? Those
working in COVID units? Those on oncology and transplant floors? Should it be a
lottery? Should we factor in healthcare worker comorbidities? Why did they send
only 975 doses? We decided to prioritize every frontline, doctor, nurse,
respiratory therapist, trainee, environmental services worker, etc., assigned
to our inpatient and outpatient COVID units. After them, healthcare workers
across all lines in all other units would be given the vaccine. Most States have less than 20% of
doses needed for healthcare workers at the moment.
By mid-week we had vaccinated hundreds of people across all
work lines in the first priority group. Questions of course came in: When is my
turn? Why is my unit in phase one or two? But all in all, people were gracious
and kind and most are still patiently awaiting their turn. A question arose
though that was a bit harder to answer. If there is a cancellation, who should
get that dose? Whoever can come in faster? Here again, came another simple
realization: there are barriers to vaccination, even among healthcare workers.
Those in support services and trainees even within our system would have a harder
time to stop doing what they are doing at work, arrange day care, or plan for the
possibility of a couple of days off after their shot in case of side effects.
Quickly reacting and sprinting to get into an opening could disadvantage some
groups over others. We had planned for an equal allocation to all work lines in
high-risk areas but it was clear that some employees have additional barriers
to vaccination.
Support service workers, trainees, housekeepers. Weren’t they
also at higher risk of exposure outside of work? Our data has shown that most
exposures among healthcare workers were nonoccupational. Had my job as a
healthcare epidemiologist biased me to focus protection mostly while at work?
But what about when in the community? I realized that when deploying vaccines, we
should think of high risk of exposure at work of course, but some groups had a
higher risk of COVID outside of work, in addition to potential barriers to
getting the first doses of vaccines even if allocated to them.
Fair allocation of vaccine doses is not easy. Aiming for fair
may not even be enough. At work and in the community, we need to work extra
hard to reach those with less resources, those who chronically have barriers to
access to care. These lessons from my own healthcare system will guide how I
think about vaccine allocation for subsequent groups. After healthcare workers
and people living in long-term care facilities are vaccinated, how are we to
prioritize the next groups? It is clear that we have to actively reach those at
an increased risk of acquisition however hard it may be.
While it will take several months and ethical conundrums
will continue to arise locally, what about the rest of the world? Mom was a
laboratory technician before she had us. If she had still been working, when
would a dose have reached her in distant Peru? The global vaccine pipeline is
not looking very promising for resource limited countries. The same challenges
seen locally are present on a world scale. Resource limited countries may not
reach full coverage until very late in 2021 or 2022. Who looks after a fair
allocation of vaccines on a global level?
As we close this week, I feel grateful to have received the
vaccine, to work in healthcare epidemiology, to continue learning from my
mistakes, and I strive to be just in our protection efforts for healthcare
workers and our communities. I am grateful my mother is recovering, for my
colleagues taking care of her and the hundreds of thousands of people battling
COVID-19 worldwide.
The next weeks and months will continue being challenging.
It is clear we have entered a new phase in the pandemic, but until we reach
high vaccination coverage we must continue implementing nonpharmacologic
interventions, masks, avoiding indoor crowds, and maintaining our distance. We
must also advocate for just allocation of medical resources in our local and
global societies. Hundreds of thousands of lives can still be saved.