51ÁÔĆć

Vaccines Are Like Sunscreen … No, Wait, Airbags … No, Wait …

Coronavirus

Everyone is bad at describing the vaccines, including me.

By Katherine J. Wu
The Atlantic
August 12, 2021

For the past year or so, I’ve been reporting on the COVID-19 vaccines, a job that’s required me to convey, again and again, how inoculations work to boost immunity and why. The shots are new, and . So I, like so many others in journalism and science, turned to analogies to help make the ideas of disease prevention and public health tangible. Vaccines, as I’ve written, protect us a lot like , , and .

Analogies, metaphors, similes, and the like are evocative and memorable. They transform the abstract into the concrete. And they , especially when used to depict a virus or an infection, which are almost entirely unseen. But a lot of the ideas we link to COVID-19 vaccines—including plenty I’ve used—don’t totally hit the mark. Too many focus on vaccines’ individual perks. And they end up skating over one of the greatest benefits of immunization: a boost in wellness at the community level, by cutting down on transmission and, by extension, illness for everyone else. For immunization to truly pack a punch, Amanda Simanek, a social epidemiologist at the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee, told me, “we all have to do it.”

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Science is easier than trust

Health care workers during pandemic. Two women in protective gowns, masks and eye protection. One woman is assisting the other with her gown.

Those Nerdy Girls of Dear Pandemic have spent the last 15 months sharing science-backed info with their 100,000 followers. They have some advice for how to get us through this next wave.

By Roxanne Patel Shepalavy
The Philadelphia Citizen
August 12, 2021

Back in the early days of —bąđ´Ú´Ç°ůąđ , and opening back up and variants—the women scientists answering questions for “,” a Facebook group and blog that launched last spring to provide science-backed Covid-19 information—were in crisis communications mode. Everyone wanted to know everything about the virus immediately; every question and answer had implications that could save lives right now; and everyone was focused on finding the best way to get through this moment, to the other side of all this.

And for a little while this summer, we seemed to get there, that crisis mode seemed to abate, and the dozen or so doctors, nurses and researchers from Philadelphia and around the world who run had started to slow down and focus on other issues, like and . “We were getting ready for more non-Covid content, with the hope this would not be the first thing on anyone’s mind,” says Ashley Z. Ritter, PhD/CRNP and CEO of Dear Pandemic. “You can’t do crisis communication on an ongoing basis without getting tired.”

You can guess how that has played out.

The Covid Delta variant and the virus is again raging nationwide (though less so here in Philadelphia), in no small part because so many Americans are unvaccinated—including those who can, but are choosing not to. Politics is part of that. So, too, is misinformation, fear, confusion and a loose understanding of science and how it really works.

“Science is not a fixed body,” Ritter notes. “It changes all the time. People have a hard time with that.”

Dear Pandemic launched last May after Ritter realized social media—where more than 50 percent of Americans —was full of misleading information about the brand new pandemic we faced. A geriatric nurse practitioner in Philly, Ritter joined with Alison Buttenheim, a Penn behavioral scientist who specializes in infectious disease prevention and whose tweets shared the best science-backed information out there at the time. They soon recruited a team of more than 25 volunteer scientists around the country and world, and dubbed themselves “Those Nerdy Girls.”

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‘Those nerdy girls,’ all female scientists, tackle COVID questions

Woman wearing a cloth face mask sitting outside at a table with a laptop. Dear pandemic member.

By Sarah Gantz
Philadelphia Inquirer
August 6, 2021

Stoked by fear of a virus that doctors and researchers knew little about, we wiped down our groceries, bought up every last roll of toilet paper, and researched how to make our own hand sanitizer.

Alison Buttenheim was no expert in infectious diseases, but as a social scientist and public health researcher, she felt compelled to help friends and family make sense of the novel coronavirus spreading quickly in the United States.

“Wash hands wash hands wash hands. Seriously, it’s like the Victory Garden equivalent of how we win this war against” Buttenheim, who is an associate professor of nursing and health policy at the University of Pennsylvania, tweeted in late February 2020.

She wasn’t alone.

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Researchers hope to find answers to toxic algae in Lake Superior before it becomes more than an occasional nuisance

Brenda LaFrancois looks at the sensor system buoy UW-Milwaukee researcher Todd Miller is about to deploy in the lake.

By Susan Bence
W51ÁÔĆć 89.7 FM
August 3, 2021

Toxic algae is nothing new to the Great Lakes. Just think of Lake Erie and the bay of Green Bay.

But the last place many people, including scientists, expected to find the harmful stuff is in Lake Superior. That’s because it’s cold, deep and mostly surrounded by forest, not farm fields.

Agriculture is a common culprit — its runoff fuels toxic algae. But sporadic blooms have appeared in Lake Superior, mostly along its southern shore.

This summer, a slew of scientists are converging to try to figure out why the algae is appearing in Lake Superior and to learn whether science can help control what, so far, has only been an occasional nuisance.

It’s a calm, clear morning in Ashland, Wisconsin along Lake Superior’s southern shore. Water scientist Matt Hudson and a couple of his Northland College students are heading out to gather water samples on Chequamegon Bay.

They’ll sample each site six times over the summer to try to figure out what makes for a welcoming environment for toxic .

One of Hudson’s tools is a long tube-like instrument, stocked with sensors. “We just lower this thing down into the water and it gives us a whole profile of the water quality from the surface to the bottom,” he explains.

To the west, off the shore of Cornucopia, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee researcher Todd Miller’s lab is lending its toxin analysis expertise to Lake Superior researchers.

Miller has deployed a system his students helped design, anchoring it off Meyers Beach — one of the most popular spots within the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore.

That’s where National Park Service aquatic biologist Brenda LaFrancois points it out….

‘It’s limbo’: Parents stuck between two COVID-19 worlds as young kids remain unvaccinated

Illustration of a stick figure family walking at an amusement park.

As the world returns to normal, fully vaccinated parents feel left behind while their young children are unprotected against the coronavirus.

By Adrianna Rodriguez, Alia E. Dastagir and Erin Richards
USA Today
July 14, 2021

Daniel Horowitz’s grip tightened around his children’s hands as he looked upon the sea of people in horror. Nobody was wearing a mask.

The amusement park’s website said any unvaccinated visitors were required to wear face coverings, but it didn’t take long for the 42-year-old father to realize these rules weren’t being enforced.

This was not the safe, socially distanced summer Horowitz had in mind.

Although the dad from Wilmington, Delaware, is fully vaccinated, his 8-year-old daughter, Emily, and 4-year-old son, Adam, are unprotected. Horowitz was excited to give them the summer they had lost last year, but he said the lack of regard for unvaccinated children puts them at risk.

“They don’t seem to be taking the kids into account too much when making these regulations,” he said. “We want our kids to do fun things, but we wish it was safer for them.”

As the country picks up where it left off, fully vaccinated parents feel left behind .

Studies have shown from COVID-19, but these studies were conducted during mask and social distancing mandates, and while the country had robust testing. Some parents said the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention should offer more specific guidance for navigating the new normal with their unvaccinated kids…

With all this in mind, families have to weigh what level of risk they’re willing to tolerate, said Amanda Simanek, an epidemiology professor at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.

“We are in a pand-exit period — it’s limbo,” said Simanek, a mother of a 12-year-old who is fully vaccinated and two younger children who are not yet eligible…

51ÁÔĆć grad creates mental health support program to help LGBTQ youth statewide

Illustration of a blue pyramid shaped prism with rainbow light to the right.

By Katie Crowther
TMJ4
June 13, 2021

MILWAUKEE — A recent University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee graduate created a program to help support LGBTQ youth — both mentally and emotionally — and it launched statewide in the middle of the pandemic.

It’s called PRISM, which stands for Peer Recover in Supportive Mutuality.

It’s the brainchild of Erica Steib, who came up with the concept for her final project while studying at 51ÁÔĆć’s Zilber School of Public Health.

PRISM was put into use by the organization Mental Health America of Wisconsin.

“It’s a safe place to explore concepts around identity and mental health,” Steib said.

Steib is leading a team of seven certified peer support specialists, including Jay Zulhlke.

“It is so important to have someone to talk to who gets it,” Zuhlke said. “You can be authentically you.”

They monitor a phone line and email account and guarantee a response within hours to provide support to anyone who reaches out. Through text messaging, phone calls, virtual, and in-person meet-ups, the peer support specialist helps that person navigate challenges and goals. More importantly, the peer support specialist is someone to talk to about anything, without judgement.

“We can talk about anything,” Zuhlke said. “What it’s like coming out to your family, what it’s like coming out at a job, what it’s like coming out to friends.”

It’s a job that hits home for Zuhlke, who is studying social work at 51ÁÔĆć.

“I came out as trans about two years ago,” Zuhlke said. “Throughout growing up, and high school especially, it would have been nice to have someone I could go to. So often I was just isolating myself about it. I didn’t want to talk about. I didn’t think anyone would understand. The PRISM peer support specialists do get it. We are here and we will help you along this journey. Sit with you, listen to you, whatever you need, we’re going to be there to support you through it.”

That kind of support has never been more critical, according to the Trevor Project’s 2021 National Survey on LGBTQ Youth Mental Health.

To talk to one of the peer support specialists:

  • call 414-336-7974 anytime
  • email PRISM@MHAWISCONSIN.ORG
  • send a direct message to “The Prism Program” on Facebook or Instagram