Faith on the Frontlines

Janella Bryant has taken on a grim duty during the COVID-19 pandemic on the intensive care
unit (ICU) where she works:

"When there's a death on my unit, I have to do what is called post-mortem care. I have to take off anything like IVs or bandages, to make sure the person is presentable for the family to come and see them. Then we have to cover them over with a sheet and transport them to the morgue, until the funeral home comes."

Bryant works at Vidant Edgecombe, the only hospital in the small town of Tarboro, North Carolina. The ICU has only eight beds. During increases in COVID-19 infections, such as the recent Delta surge, six of those beds are likely to be occupied by COVID patients, she said.

Bryant admitted that she had seen death at times during the previous decade working as a nurse's aide. But in July 2020, just a few months into the pandemic, she took a position in the ICU. This was something different. "It really got to me when I started seeing patients die every week. They could be talking one minute and the next minute they'd be gone."

COVID-19 has shaken up the work of Daniel Slotter, who delivers oxygen and equipment to the homes of patients with respiratory problems in Wake County, North Carolina, and several other counties in the region. Slotter, who lives in Sanford, North Carolina, works as service technician for American HomePatient, a company specializing in respiratory therapies. Many of the company's clients now are COVID patients who still need oxygen support after leaving the hospital.

One day, Slotter visited a patient's home to deliver insurance papers. "I called him on the phone from the door, and he said he would come get the papers. When he still hadn't come to the door after ten minutes, I called him again. He said, 'I'm sorry. I just can't get out of bed. I have no energy to walk.' He lived by himself, and he could not even stand up." The really disturbing thing: "He was only 30 or 35 years old."

How does Bryant deal with an ICU job that can be both stressful and sad? During the COVID-19 pandemic, spiritual focus has helped Bryant and other frontline medical workers in her religious community battle through the mental and emotional toll of the pandemic.

"Sometimes I've had to walk off the floor just to get some air, to pray to Jehovah, and to call my husband and vent to him, and to cry." Bryant is one of Jehovah's Witnesses, so when she prays, she uses the name "Jehovah," who is identified as God in the Bible. "I have to make sure my mentality is good," she said. "Throughout my work in healthcare, I've never experienced something like this. But I have to take care of my patients, so I need to make sure I'm stable to do that."

To minimize contact when bringing oxygen to COVID-19 patients, Slotter remains on the porch, protected by PPE, or calls on the phone. "It's definitely stressful," said Slotter. "My biggest worry is getting infected and bringing it home to my wife, who could then pass it to her mother. Both of them pretty much stay at home, so if they got COVID I would know it was from me. So it's a lot of stress on my part. Any time you get a sore throat or even when you sneeze, you wonder, Have I got it?"

Slotter, also one of Jehovah's Witnesses, agreed that a spiritual focus has helped him cope with the stress of serving infected patients. "I try not to focus on the bad," he said, "but to focus on the good future we have in store." Witnesses believe in the Bible's promise of a restored earth without sickness or death.

“What healthcare workers are experiencing is akin to domestic combat,” Andrew J. Smith, Ph.D., director of the University of Utah Health Occupational Trauma Program at the Huntsman Mental Health Institute, said in a press release from his institution.

According to a study conducted by Smith’s group, more than half of the doctors, nurses and emergency responders providing COVID-19 care could be at risk for one or more mental health problems—including acute traumatic stress, depression and anxiety.

That’s what happened for Josie Rodas, an emergency department nurse on Long Island, New York. In the early surge of the pandemic, she felt the dark shadows of depression descend.

At the time, Rodas was working on the COVID floor of her hospital. Sweating profusely under her PPE and often without time to eat, she rushed to help one patient after another. Death still won the battle most days. At home, she slept alone out of fear of asymptomatically infecting her husband. “I was just so low,” she said.

Then her mother, who lives alone, contracted the virus. Desperate to help but needing to stay safe, Rodas constantly monitored a remote camera for the rise and fall of her mom's chest—a sign that she was still breathing.

Even though Rodas dropped off meals and called throughout the day, she felt helpless. “I’m caring for these patients at work, but I can’t even care for my own mother,” she said. “That was heartbreaking.”

But Rodas’ congregation of Jehovah's Witnesses mobilized. They sent texts and cards, called, FaceTimed and Zoomed to help her not to give up. “Talk to God,” one friend told her. “He will help you.”

With their encouragement, Rodas found respite as she continued to worship with them regularly online, joined ministry groups on Zoom and intensified her prayers.

“If I didn’t have this spiritual association virtually, who knows?” Rodas said. “The amount of depression that has come out of this is horrible. You hear stories of other people who don’t recover. It’s
comforting knowing that people care for you as an individual.”

American psychological and psychiatric associations, while not advocating or endorsing any specific religion, acknowledge a role for spirituality and religious faith in coping with distress and trauma.

Lawrence Onoda, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist in Mission Hills, California, noted a number of ways spirituality can help, including giving people “a positive hope and meaning toward life, comfort by looking for answers and strength from a higher power, and a collective shared experience of support and community.”

Bryant's close relationship with her Rocky Mount, North Carolina, congregation has been a source of strength for her. As with Jehovah's Witnesses around the world, in-person meetings at Bryant's Kingdom Hall have been suspended during the pandemic. But the congregation has been using videoconferencing to hold virtual meetings.

"I'm always there, always participating," said Bryant, "so I can still interact with friends and so we can encourage one another—because we need each other." Congregation elders stay in continual contact with individuals to make sure they receive encouragement. The congregation receives regular study materials from the organization of Jehovah's Witnesses for its twice-weekly meetings, and articles, videos and music are available through the jw.org website. "We've lost physical contact with each other," said Bryant, "but we're still being spiritually fed."

Slotter takes comfort from the Bible verses at Philippians 4:6,7, which assure Christians that
sincere prayer will bring them "the peace of God that surpasses all understanding."
"Even during these difficult chaotic times," said Slotter, "the Bible can help us obtain what we
need to help us deal with distractions, if we allow it to affect our lives, if we take the time to read it and turn to it for direction."

(For more information on gaining comfort through the scriptures, please see
https://www.jw.org/en/bible-teachings/peace-happiness/real-hope-future-b...)