🚨I wrote about the ordeals that one community hospital in Chicago endured during the recent surge, how its remaining healthcare workers think about the future, and why, as one said, "we’re never going to be able to go back to the way we were." 1/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
At the peak, the hospital “was inundated with patients who spent > 40 hours in the waiting room, holding tight for a bed in the ER, which was itself heaving with people who were waiting for a spot in the ICU, which was also full.” 2/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
Advocate Trinity's staff worked heroically to to see people as quickly as possible. But they couldn’t slow the influx of patients, COVID and otherwise. There were people who went into cardiac arrest in the waiting room or still inside an ambulance. 3/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
That wave crashed against a depleted workforce that gradually shrunk over the last year and burned out further. But many of Advocate Trinity’s remaining staff told me they are fiercely committed to staying because their community depends on them. 4/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
The hospital is one of the few remaining health-care institutions serving the mostly Black communities of Chicago’s South Side, where 1/3 of the staff are themselves from. “If they don’t come to us, where else are they going to go?” a nurse told me. 5/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
To me, Advocate Trinity is America’s health-care system in microcosm. Its shrinking pool of workers is shouldering, at immense personal cost, several generations of inequality and neglect, and two years of a poorly controlled pandemic. 6/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
And while the surge is subsiding, the problems exposed and exacerbated by the pandemic aren’t. The staff is now looking at an uneasy future where they’ll have to “navigate a path forward with less.” So much rides on them finding that path. 7/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
But there’s hope here, too. The hospital has ambitious plans to improve the health of its community, through work that would traditionally fall more within the purview public health than medicine, harkening to an era where those fields were closer. 8/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
I've written lots about the US healthcare crisis (theatlantic.com/health/archive… & theatlantic.com/health/archive…). There's a risk of frankensteining a worst-case mosaic from the worst days of dozens of interviewees. So I wanted to do a different kind of story that focused on 1 place. 9/
This is that story. Through it, I hope to convey what it's been like to endure two years of this, why some healthcare workers have left, why others have stayed, and what challenges will persist long after this surge is past. Fin/
The principle is really simple: "Everyone has an equal claim to relief from suffering, no matter what they’ve done or haven’t done." The medical system shouldn't be a means of punishing people for social choices. 3/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
My new book—AN IMMENSE WORLD—comes out this summer. It’s about how other animals sense the world, and the very different version of reality that they perceive.
Here’s a thread about the book, why I wrote it, and why I hope you'll enjoy it. 1/
All animals share the same world, but every species perceives a mere sliver of it. Each is trapped in a unique sensory bubble. This book is my attempt to step inside those bubbles, and imagine what it's truly like to be a bat—or a whale, spider, scallop, or star-nosed mole. 2/
I traveled around 3 continents (pre-pandemic!) for this book. I got punched by a mantis shrimp, shocked by an electric fish, and snuzzled by a manatee. I hung out with spiders, turtles, octopuses, rattlesnakes, butterflies, seals... and a lot of delightful scientists. 3/
The US edition is out Jul 12 w/ a different cover; I'll show you that one in a couple of days, and say more about what this book's about and why I hope you'll enjoy it.
I love how both covers capture, in very different but complementary ways, the promise of the book--a chance to look at nature in a different and newly wondrous way.
I've often found that health-care workers are at their rawest and most emotionally vulnerable in the lulls, when hospitals are quieter (tho not quiet) and they can exhale and process. That's when people have just broken down on the phone. Or quit. 2/
By contrast, during the actual surges, they're more likely to be in adrenaline mode. They're just trying to get through it, to put aside the trauma so they can do their jobs. They have armor on, and if you listen, you really can hear it in their answers and their voices. 3/
Far more common are folks w/ chronic illnesses--heart problems, diabetes, etc.--that are being seriously exacerbated by COVID. Said illness might be listed as reason for admission, but the admission wouldn't have happened if they hadn't been infected. 3/
🚨I wrote about what this surge is doing to the healthcare system.
It's bad.
Though less severe, Omicron is spreading quickly enough to inundate hospitals, which can't handle the strain cos so many healthcare workers had quit or are now sick. 1/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
The most important thing about this surge: It comes *after all the others*, & finds a workforce that’s exhausted, demoralized, & smaller because of waves of resignations.
Today’s system can’t handle what it used to handle. It must now handle a LOT. 2/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…
COVID hospitalizations rose 40k to 65k in the 7 weeks before Christmas, and then to 110k in the 2 wks since.
The CDC is forecasting 25-54k extra patients *per day* by end-Jan.
That's... not good. 3/ theatlantic.com/health/archive…