In the gloom of over a year into the global COVID-19 pandemic, I had a small pick-me-up moment when I saw this photo, being used as a background image promoting my university’s April research conference:

It was taken two years ago (2019) at the poster session of the Scholars Forum. Students in my Research Design and Analysis in Public Health (PUBH 306) class collectively worked on the project on social risk factors for opioid misuse in the U.S. They executed (nearly) all the tasks: selected the health outcomes and the social risk factors; conducted a literature review; interpreted the statistical findings; wrote all the narrative sections on poster; and answered lots of questions about their research during the full duration of the poster session, which lasted all morning until early afternoon.

Although it was a tiny project, it was their first start-to-finish research study, complete from conception to presentation. As a research team, they experienced firsthand the collaborative approach common to public health, and they drew on each other’s strengths (whether organizing, writing, interpreting, or fielding questions). I served as their “numbers cruncher,” but they made sense of the findings and reflected on their importance.

These were IUP’s first students to graduate earning their Bachelor of Science degree in Public Health (across three concentrations: Behavioral & Mental Health; Environmental & Occupational Health; and Global & Rural Communities). Now all are either practicing in different niches in the field or pursuing graduate studies. Well done!

For me, this is bittersweet. Of course, like others slogging through intensive mitigation to slow the spread of the highly contagious—and mutating—SARS-CoV-2 virus, I miss being in-person with friends, coworkers, and students. On top of that, I worry that the university’s reorganization and seismic down-sizing will translate into fewer opportunities for students to shine.

It’s been a long time since I’ve shared anything on this blog site. The COVID-19 pandemic and its related, relentless fallout has many of us reeling, including me. The situation is made all the worse for lack of coherent, cohesive, and clear communication and coordination about appropriate steps and time frames for guarding against the SARS-CoV-2 virus.

It seems everyone is angry about it in one way or another, and the U.S. was angry enough before the pandemic!

Anger is an intense emotion and is strongly connected to mental health and well-being. It’s also the second stage of Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’ model of grief, which by analogy suggests there will be more to come pandemic-wise. (Let’s hope it’s less harmful than an aroused swarm of murder hornets!)

With seismic shifts in the employment landscape and the financial stability of families, on top of grief and loss from losing a loved one, there’s a looming crisis in mental health across the U.S. And unfortunately many employers, including my current one, exhibit a sizeable gap between their actions and their rhetoric.

Yesterday NPHW had a violence prevention theme, so by way of catching up, first things first: The Hotline

There are too many forms of violence. CDC addresses different dimensions of violence and prevention: child abuse and neglect; elder abuse; intimate partner violence; sexual violence; youth violence; and suicide. Given that more than half of violent deaths involve a firearm and that only 15% of those who use a gun in a suicide attempt survive, one might expect that gun violence would be given its due. Firearms are mentioned in various CDC reports, but you’ve got to dig to find it. And, after digging, it’s obvious that serious harm reduction approaches to gun death are avoided more stringently than our current plague. Thus, the important role of advocacy to change policy.

And, since I linked back to the US National Library of Medicine’s exhibit in my previous posts, why not again? Confronting Violence simultaneously gave me hope and a deflated déjà vu. How about you?

About two or so weeks ago, I reached out to our Public Health majors regarding the current life (and educational) changes due to the COVID-19 pandemic. I shared my own personal, public health experience from my college days:

• Although the circumstances are different, I have lasting memories from my senior year of college when we experienced a community outbreak of Rubella. A long line of classmates, faculty, and staff snaked through our main student center to receive mandatory booster shots. We were somewhat anxious, but thankful that effective vaccines were readily accessible.

Given that today (April 7, 2020) we focus on maternal and child health for National Public Health Week, it’s a good time to think about how mothering (or parenting, to be less gendered about it) is so essential to everyone’s health and well-being. As we collectively grapple with and adjust to our new normal, it’s helpful to think about people dealt with past contagions. There’s some useful perspective to gain from past Rubella outbreaks.

For those of you thinking about what “maternal and child health” means, it truly takes a village. Here’s an informative video from CDC on the topic. Note that 2020 marks the 30th anniversary of CDC’s Maternal & Child Health Epidemiology Program.

In the meantime, take a look at our overview and schedule for the 2020 NPHW.

Welcome to my blog on Public Health Matters, where I share resources and provide commentary on current, past, and future issues in the field of public health.

I’m excited to start this blog at this time, because this week — Monday, April 6, through Sunday, April 12, 2020 — is the 25th anniversary of National Public Health Week (NPHW). Also, in the U.S. and around the world, we’re in the throes of the COVID-19 pandemic. Therefore, it’s highly likely that public health questions are your mind as much as mine.

On this blog I will include links to solid scientific sources, convincing political and policy concerns, and to the lighter sides of life.

Since mental health is today’s theme for NPHW, you might want to visit the Graphic Medicine: Ill-Conceived and Well-Drawn! exhibit from the U.S. National Library of Medicine. Among other excellent examples, this online exhibit includes the 2012 book by Ellen Forney, Marbles: mania, depression, Michelangelo, and me: a graphic memoir. Forney also guest curated the exhibit. Many health and illness themed graphic novels are included in the exhibit. I’m going to add a few to my reading list: Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel; Lighter than my shadow by Katie Green; and Tangles: A story about Alzheimer’s, my mother, and me by Sarah Leavitt.