Some African-American seniors are hesitant about the Covid vaccine

Baton Rouge, Louisiana — Flossie West had no interest in receiving the coronavirus vaccine.

Carla Brown, the nurse who oversees her care, decided to change her mind.

West, 73, has ovarian cancer, congestive heart failure, and dyspnea. You are at serious risk if you are infected with a virus. Currently, Covid-19 has killed too many neighbors in the low-rise, predominantly black community of Midcity, east of Louisiana’s capital.

But West’s skepticism about the new vaccine masked her fears of Covid-19. “I’m not interested because everyone says the virus is a hoax,” West said. “And that shot will make me sick more than it is now.”

On Thursday morning, Brown, 62, blew a breeze into West’s apartment and gave a tough lecture. The virus is real, the vaccine is harmless, and West has to get out of bed, grab an oxygen cylinder and get in the car. ..

“I would be ridiculous if I were to take you to this coronavirus,” she said.

In recent weeks, Brown has been working hard to convince patients to get vaccinated, and her one woman’s campaign has caused a nasty low rate of vaccination in the black community. You can get a glimpse of the obstacles.

According to a New York Times analysis, African Americans are vaccinated at half the proportion of whites, even with more vaccine supplies. The inequality is particularly alarming given that pandemics have a disproportionate impact on the color community. Twice the rate Caucasian.

The racial gap in vaccination rates is less pronounced LouisianaAfrican Americans make up 32% of the population, but only 23% of vaccinated people.

Part of the problem is access. In Baton Rouge, most mass vaccination sites are located in the white areas of the city and are often distributed to older and poor residents in black areas such as Midcity, who often lack access to transportation. It brings the above challenges. Elderly residents have also been hampered by online booking systems that can be daunting for people who do not have a computer, smartphone, or high-speed internet connection.

However, according to experts, many of the racial disparities in vaccination rates may be linked to long-standing ones. Distrust of medical institutions Among African Americans. Many Baton Rouge residents can easily quote the history of abuse. Eugenics campaign It forced black women to sterilize for almost half of the 20th century, and a Tuskegee experiment run by the infamous government in Alabama withdrew penicillin from hundreds of black men suffering from syphilis, some of whom later died of illness. I did.

“Distrust among black Americans comes from a real place, and pretending that it doesn’t exist or questioning whether it’s rational is a recipe for failure,” said health inequalities. Says Thomas A. Lavaist, an expert and dean of public schools. Tulane University Health and Tropical Medicine. Dr. LaVeist has advised Louisiana authorities on how to increase vaccination coverage.

Hospice nurse Brown has a good idea of ​​how to change the minds of vaccine skeptics. Encourage one-on-one conversations with respected people in the black community who can deal with anxiety and provide reliable information, acknowledging what she is explaining. As a traumatic scar that has been passed down. “Looking back at our history, we lied and had a lot of racial distress, so it’s all about building trust,” she said.

It can also help tell people that she has already been vaccinated.

Covid’s survivor, Brown, has become a swirling Dervish crusade against vaccine evasion in the Baton Rouge. Her sense of mission is partially fueled by personal loss. Last May, Brown, who worked as a psychiatric nurse in a hospital, unknowingly brought the coronavirus home. Her husband, son, and 90-year-old father were all seriously ill and eventually admitted to the hospital. Her husband, a cancer survivor she described as “love for my life,” eventually put on a ventilator. He died in July.

She quit her job at the hospital with a renewed determination to care for her most vulnerable patients and began working with a terminal illness last January.

“My husband couldn’t get the vaccine, but if I didn’t intend to vaccinate everyone around me, I would be ridiculous,” she said. “I don’t care if you’re homeless. When I come to you, you’re in my car.”

On Thursday, she went into overdrive after learning that the East Baton Rouge pop-up vaccination site could afford dozens of doses.

Brown prefers to make pitches directly, but within three hours of the site’s scheduled closure, he pulls Cherry Red’s Toyota Scion into the parking lot of the Hainaball supermarket, picks up the phone, and she becomes the director of nursing. Thick binder with contact information for 40 patients in management Canon hospice, Baton Rouge palliative care provider.

“Is it Miss Georgia?” She asked. “Have you got a Covid shot yet? Number? Well, we’ll pick you up, so get dressed.”

One woman had some rejections, saying, “I’m still not sure it’s safe to take,” but persuaded five people to get vaccinated in less than an hour.

Next, I called the East Baton Rouge Aging Council, a non-profit organization that runs the vaccination site, and asked them to send a few vans.

In addition to arranging transportation, Tasha Clark Amar, CEO of the organization, eases logistics hurdles, arranges telephone reservations, and asks employees to pre-fill the required documents. I am doing it. Next week, she hopes to begin sending a team of health care workers to vaccinate the 4,000 residents of the city who are tied to their beds.

Clark Amar is also in a sense of urgency. Over the past year, she said more than 140 clients have died in Covid-19. Her strategy to beat the hesitant is the same as Mr Brown’s strategy, but she often resorts to leadership and respects the leadership of elders in the black community. “I tell them,’You are the patriarch or patriarch of your family and you should set an example and guide them,'” she said. When that doesn’t work, she’s more frank: “At your age, it’s a vaccine or a grave.”

Less than 30 minutes after Mr Brown called, a home health assistant took Dorothy Wells to the brightly lit cafeteria of the senior center. Wells, 84, a stroke patient, initially resisted vaccination, but was rejected by his son.

Wells’ aide, Rachel Green, 45, was also reluctant to vaccinate.She told a story she read on social media about people who get sick or die after receiving a shot. Health authorities Side effects on the coronavirus vaccine are said to be very rare.

But after seeing people get vaccinated and leave after 15 minutes of observation, Mr Green changed his mind. She bounced up and down nervously while waiting for her turn. When it was time to roll up her sleeves, she fluttered, but barely noticed the needle wound. “It wasn’t bad at all,” she said.

Then there was West, a cancer patient who visited home earlier that day. Last year, West, who lives alone and has no children, was looking forward to seeing him twice a week. In addition to the occasional appointments with her oncologist, their visit is the only time she has face-to-face contact with others. “I feel like Mr Brown really cares about me,” she said.

Given the deep trust that has been cultivated over the past few months, it didn’t take long for Mr Brown to take over her.

West, who was sitting in the observation area of ​​the vaccination site on Thursday, said it was good to hear. “When I get home, I send a text message to all my friends and tell them to take a picture,” she said.