My name is Sarah Thompson, and while I lack formal medical training or a degree in Health Sciences, I feel compelled to reach out to you today. I am not a nurse, doctor, or paramedic; rather, I find myself writing to you in my pajamas while preparing breakfast for my little one.
However, I am deeply connected to those in the medical field. Many of my friends and family dedicate their lives to healthcare, and my concern for them drives me to speak up. Therefore, I respectfully ask: don’t dismiss my panic regarding Ebola.
When my loved ones are on the front line facing a virus with a staggering 70% fatality rate, it is impossible not to worry. With reports suggesting that Ebola may have airborne transmission potential, and the WHO predicting thousands more cases in Africa weekly, your assurances to remain calm feel out of touch. The thought of this deadly virus traveling on commercial flights across the nation is alarming, to say the least.
I may lack medical expertise, but I understand the complexities of patient care. I grasp that patients may not always be truthful, and the term “asymptomatic” can be misleading. Protocols are vital, but they don’t always align with the unpredictable nature of human behavior. Medical professionals are, after all, human. They can tire, make mistakes, and face overwhelming situations.
You may have a wealth of knowledge in epidemiology and public health strategies, but it seems the emotional aspect—the human element—has been overlooked. While the risk of Ebola might be low for the general public, it exists. It’s perplexing to think that you can emphasize the importance of vaccinating against polio while suggesting that concern over Ebola is unwarranted.
I have faith in your scientists and the expertise they provide, yet it seems your organization could benefit from a more humane approach. Instead of advising me to calm down, focus on reducing our fears. Utilize your research and resources to safeguard those in healthcare, like my husband, Dr. Jason Miller, a dedicated researcher and patient advocate who faces these threats daily. He is not just a professional; he is my partner and an extraordinary father.
Ebola might not be his most pressing concern, but it’s a reality for him and his colleagues, especially since we have seen healthcare workers in the U.S. contract the virus. Therefore, I urge you once more: don’t tell me not to panic. Your words and time could be better spent ensuring that hospitals are prepared with clear strategies and protocols to manage such cases effectively.
Let us, the worried families, hold onto our concerns because they stem from love and care for those who risk their lives for others.
Additional Resources
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In summary, I believe that it is crucial for public health organizations like the CDC to acknowledge the fears of families connected to medical professionals. Rather than urging us not to panic, focus on providing the necessary support and resources to protect healthcare workers and their communities.
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