I worked as a data scientist at a hospital in New York City during the worst of the covid-19 pandemic. Over the spring and summer, we became overwhelmed as the city turned into (and left) the global hotspot for covid-19. I have been processing everything that happened since.
The pandemic overwhelmed the entire hospital, particularly my physician colleagues. When I met with them, I could often notice the combined effects of physical and emotional exhaustion in their eyes and voices. Many had just arrived from the ICU, where they had spent several hours fighting to keep their patients alive only to witness many of them die in front of them, and I could sense the emotional toll that was taking.
My experiences of the pandemic as a data scientist differed considerably yet were also exhausting and disturbing in their own way. I spent several months day-in and day-out researching how many of our patients were dying from the pandemic and why: trying to determine what factors contributed to their deaths and what we could do as a hospital to best keep people alive. The patient who died the night before in front of the doctor I am currently meeting with became, for me, one a single row in an already way-too-large data table of covid-19 fatalities.
I felt like a helicopter pilot overlooking an out-of-control wildfire.[1] In such wildfires, teams of firefighters (aka doctors) position themselves at various strategic locations on the ground to push back the fire there as best they can. They experience the flames and carnage up close and personal. My placement in the helicopter, on the other hand, removes me from ground zero, instead forcing me to see and analyze the fire in its entirety and its sweeping and massive destruction across the whole forest. My vantage point provides a strategic vantage point to determine the best ways to fight it, shielding me from the immediate destruction. Nevertheless, witnessing the vastness of the carnage from the air had its own challenges, stress, and emotional toll.
Being an anthropologist by training, I am accustomed to being “on the ground.” Anthropology is predicated on the idea that to understand a culture or phenomena, one must understand the everyday experiences of those on the ground amidst it, and my anthropological training has instilled an instinct to go straight to and talk to those in the thick of it.
Yet, this experience has taught me that that perception is overly simplistic: the so-called “ground” has many layers to it, especially for a complex phenomenon like a pandemic. Being in the helicopter is another way to be in the thick of it just as much as standing before the flames.
Many in the United States have made considerable and commendable efforts to support frontline health workers. Yet, as the pandemic progresses, and its societal effects grow in complexity in the coming months I think we need to broaden our understanding of where the “frontlines” are and who a “frontline worker” is worthy of our support.
In actual battlefields where the “frontline” metaphor comes from, militaries also set up layered teams to support the logistical needs of ground soldiers who also must frequently put themselves in harm’s way in the process. The frontline of this pandemic seems no different.
I think we need to expand our conceptions of what it means to be on the frontlines accordingly. Like anthropology, modern journalism, a key source of pandemic information for many of us, can fall into the issue of overfocusing on the “worst of the worst,” potentially ignoring the broader picture and the diversity of “frontline” experiences. For example, interviewing the busiest medical caregivers in the worst affected hospitals in the most affected places in the world likely does promote viewership, but only telling those stories ignores the experiences and sacrifices of thousands of others necessary to keep them going.
To be clear, in this blog, I do not personally care about acknowledgement of my own work nor do I think we should ignore the contributions of these medical professional “ground troops” in any way. Rather, in the spirt of “yes and,” we should extend our understanding of the “frontline workers” to acknowledge and celebrate the contributions of many other essential professionals during this crisis, such as transportation services, food distribution, postal workers, etc. I related my own experiences as a data scientist because they helped me learn this, not for any desire for recognition.
This might help us appreciate the complexity of this crisis and its social effects, and the various types of sacrifices people have been making to address it. As it is becoming increasingly clear that this pandemic is not likely to go anywhere anytime soon, appreciating the full extent of both could help us come together to buckle down and fight it.
[1] This video helped me understand the logistics of fighting wildfires, a fascinating topic in itself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EodxubsO8EI. Feel free to check it out to understand my analogy in more depth.
Photo Credit #1: ReinhardThrainer at https://pixabay.com/photos/fire-forest-helicopter-forest-fire-5457829/
Photo Credit #2: Pixabay at https://www.pexels.com/photo/backlit-breathing-apparatus-danger-dangerous-279979/
Photo Credit #3: Pixabay at https://www.pexels.com/photo/scenic-view-of-rice-paddy-247599/