Diaries of a Young Public Health Professional: On serving others without knowing how to serve
It's been a year since I got vaccinated against COVID-19. And it was made possible by my work as an ad hoc volunteer at a local immunization station. When the day finally came, although it was an afternoon shift, I had been stressed out since the morning. After all, I had spent the previous year sitting safely at home, barely interacting with others. I was aware that many people's daily lives in the pandemic are drastically different and they are exposed to the virus every day.
I eventually made it to Elgin Community College and a gym that had been adapted to meet the new needs of the community: inside, there were dozens of tables where the patients were directed for consultation. I was given a red vest. I handed out documents to patients. On the clipboard, there was a consent form, a vaccine information sheet, and a pen. I had to add people who weren't already in the system, as well as print new QR codes for those who hadn't brought theirs with them. I frequently had to ask for clarification, because of the mask and my soft voice, not everyone could understand me. I was frantically passing out forms and repeating the formula, which I had quickly memorized: "Hi. Here's your consent form. Please take a seat and complete the form before returning it to the registration table. Thank you." I barely had time to use the restroom and drink a few sips of water in the span of a few hours.
The aspect of it all that I was most afraid of, human interaction, turned out to be the nicest. "Thank you for your work," I've been told several times. It felt good. Some folks were pleasant, while others not so much. It's understandable given that they had to wait in a long line. Some people refused to accept pens or clipboards. There were a lot of questions: people wanted to know if we disinfected our pens or whether the vaccine (Moderna) was the one recommended by the government. I tried to be polite and helpful. Like when I had to assist a gentleman in filling out a consent form because he had forgotten his glasses. Or the Parkinson's patient who struggled to fill out paperwork because his hands shook. I have a lot of respect for the people that continued working there for many months.
At the end of the shift, it was time for my vaccination. I had mixed feelings about getting vaccinated as a young and healthy person at a time when not all priority groups had been immunized. But I finally gave in. The nurse who vaccinated me mentioned that she, too, had a daughter who studied public health. I thanked her and received the vaccination card informing me of the next shot.
But it's not the fact that I got vaccinated that I'll remember most about that day. This experience reinforced my long-held desire to engage in more community service as a public health professional. Unfortunately, solely due to my choices, I don’t recall ever working directly with those receiving care. Having spent my professional years conducting health policy research, I often feel disconnected from the problems of those I serve, and I lack the skills to effectively listen. As a researcher with the ability to shape the health landscape, I made a mental note to make my future research truly participatory and empowering in order to co-create evidence and influence decision-making. And make sure that people feel heard on a basic human level. This can only happen if I actively seek them out.
