Five years ago I was working as the medical director at the largest homelessness services agency in Seattle.

My dad, who skimmed headlines from major newspapers in the US and China every morning, had been tracking news about a respiratory illness spreading in China. “It sounds bad,” he said in January.

On February 29th, 2020, the first death from Covid happened in the US. The death happened in a suburb of Seattle called Kirkland. (If you are a Costco member, those Kirkland jeans and Kirkland cookies and Kirkland laundry detergents are named after the city where the original Costco headquarters were located.) Without consulting the executive director, I sent out an e-mail to the entire agency that same day. I can’t remember what I wrote, though my intention was to offer information, presence, and transparency.

I couldn’t offer true reassurance. I knew nothing. I was worried.

At that time there were close to 50 medical professionals at the agency. During a meeting that happened shortly thereafter to consider next steps, one of the psychiatrists, his voice quavering, asked, “We’re going to shut down the [program he worked in], right?”

“No,” I said, perplexed. “People need that program — and they might need it even more because of what might come next.”

That psychiatrist then abandoned his job. No notice, no explanation. He just left.

Everyone else on the medical team stayed. Though I have expressed my gratitude to them many times, they will never fully understand the depth of my appreciation. There is no way the agency could have kept people — most currently or formerly homeless — well without their help. They applied their knowledge and skills in unknown territory, sought out patients wherever they were, and worked within and across disciplines. There were hundreds of staff at the agency and well over 2500 patients. By the summer of 2022, only five patients had died from Covid. (More died with Covid, but SARS-Cov2 was not the primary cause of death.)

During the Stand Up for Science rally in Seattle yesterday, the president of the Washington State Nurses Association spoke. He talked about the service of nurses during the pandemic, how they all continued to show up and work despite the threat of disease and death.

His point was two-fold: Nurses need science to do their jobs. Nurses also do the right thing: They don’t back down in the face of threats. They keep showing up, even when the situation is scary and hard.

This is true for the vast majority of people who work in health care.

Do I feel great annoyance with the current federal administration? Yes. Do I think people will suffer and die unnecessary deaths because of their policies? Yes. Does that enrage me? Yes.

Serving as the medical director at that homelessness services agency during the pandemic was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my professional career. The fruit of that experience, though, is an unexpected equanimity.

It’s not that I don’t feel worry or sadness. I do. The actions of the federal administration just seem like a series of surmountable problems. Their triumph is not inevitable. All of us who were essential workers during the pandemic showed up, did our jobs, and supported the people in our communities. If we were able to do that when the threat was unknown, global, and indiscriminate, why would we be cowed by a shrinking faction of spiteful people?