A physician-scientist's call to arms.

Over the past year, Cell Stem Cell has introduced early-career researchers impacted by the COVID-19 pandemic and subsequent closures to our readers. One year since our first introductions, we've invited several participants to reflect on their experiences and key issues. In this Story, Aaron Viny discusses the emotional toll faced by physician-scientists over this past year and highlights how we need vaccinations, and each other, to see the pandemic through.

Main text

We on the healthcare frontlines are fighting a war against a microbial enemy. We signed up for this. We were trained for this. Yet we have also been forced against our will to fight on a second front—the struggle against misinformation and politically charged anti-science rhetoric.

In March 2020, as the first cases of COVID-19 were being detected in the New York City area, I doubt most foresaw the world still grappling with this virus over a year later. However, many knew this would portend a major public health challenge ahead. Healthcare providers were armed with virtually no clinical or scientific knowledge on this new disease, and I recalled many of the stories I’ve heard over the years from my professors and mentors who lived through the HIV pandemic. This was a call to arms for the physician-scientist community—our training had uniquely positioned us to heed the call. As I was preparing to take over the inpatient leukemia service, I was informed that my predecessor was being quarantined due to exposure to a COVID-positive patient. I also learned that, after a long road, my wife was pregnant with our second child. With little information on the virus, I moved out of our home to keep my pregnant wife and young daughter safe. I thought back to the stories I’d heard from the heroes of the HIV pandemic—of their courage and bravery and of the impact they had in turning that disease into a chronic illness rather than a death sentence.

In March and early April 2020, I primarily took care of COVID patients who also unfortunately carried a leukemia diagnosis. Anti-cancer therapy took a back seat to supplemental oxygen and supportive care with the hope that the virus would eventually pass and we could then return to fighting cancer, the enemy I knew and understood. Whether it was the virus itself or cancer treatment delays and cancer progression, many patients did not fare well. We tried our best to learn as much as we could from each case—T cell activation versus anergy, cytokine storm versus healthy immune response. We tried to collect patient samples and use our laboratory skills to make sense of it all. There were many more questions than answers.

At 7 p.m. each night, the eerily quiet streets of New York would erupt with cheers as healthcare workers changed shifts, but with the reality of so many patients succumbing to COVID pneumonia with very little I could offer therapeutically, these cheers did not feel earned. After two of the most physically and emotionally challenging weeks of clinical service I had experienced, it was now time for the next attending physician to take over.

We on the healthcare frontlines are fighting a war against a microbial enemy. We signed up for this. We were trained for this. Yet we have also been forced against our will to fight on a second front—the struggle against misinformation and politically charged anti-science rhetoric. Rather than “listen to the experts,” many people, isolated and quarantined, were susceptible to the loud voices of conspiracy theorists and skeptics intentionally aiming to undermine the data and the science. More than 550,000 lives have been lost, many of them avoidable had adequate measures been taken. When dedicating one’s life to improving the health of others, how can the irresponsible actions of others not seem like personal insults?

The data on hydroxychloroquine came back in the following months as ineffective. Remdesivir had a modest effect. Convalescent plasma and recombinant antibody were effective in specific contexts. We finally had some tools. Now, a year later, attending on a step-down unit with mostly COVID-positive patients, regretfully, these patients largely still depended on supplemental oxygen and supportive care. Many are still dying of this virus.

The tide, is, however, turning. On December 24th, I received my first dose of an mRNA COVID-19 vaccine alongside so many of my brothers and sisters in the healthcare community. The vaccine is working (Benenson et al., 2021; Keehner et al., 2021). Many Americans are rolling up their sleeves to be vaccinated. The accelerated development of COVID-19 vaccines is one of the most remarkable achievements of modern science, and it is my deep and sincere hope that it inspires a whole new generation to look upon the bravery, altruism, and worldwide impact of the doctors and scientists of this pandemic and pursue a career as a physician-scientist. There are true heroes here to be lauded—Drs. Anthony Fauci, David Ho, Trevor Bedford, Ugur Sahin, and Oslem Tureci. But all of us in science need to help wield our power of data and beg everyone we know to get vaccinated. To everyone reading this, please reach out to one person each day who might need help or coaxing to get vaccinated. Picking up takeout? Ask the staff if they’ve been vaccinated—give them links to local resources. Have octogenarian neighbors with no kids? Help them make an appointment and a plan. The more needles in arms, the safer my patients will be, the safer our families will be, the safer my daughters will be (“daughters,” now plural).