Cohesiveness and volunteerism
One of the most powerful antidotes to long-term traumatization is a sense of community cohesiveness. This was the case following 9/11, and it is the case during the COVID-19 pandemic, according to Dr. Ofri, an internist at Bellevue Hospital in New York.
“There was an enormous mobilization. Bellevue is a city hospital with a level 1 trauma center, and we expected to be swamped, so the whole hospital shifted into gear,” said Dr. Ofri. “What would have been terrifying seemed tolerable because we felt that we were in it together. We discharged the inpatients to make beds available. Within hours, we had converted clinics into emergency departments and ICUs. We worked seamlessly, and the crisis brought us together ... but then, of course, no patients showed up.”
She described her relationship with her colleagues as “feeling almost like a family, especially during the pandemic, when so many others were in lockdown and feeling isolated and useless.”
She and her colleagues saw each other daily. Although the content of their tasks and responsibilities changed and people were redeployed to other areas, “our workday didn’t really change. It would have been overwhelming if we hadn’t had our daily meetings to regroup and assess where we were. Each day, everything we had learned or implemented the day before – treatment protocols, testing protocols, our understanding of how the virus was communicated – would change and need to be reevaluated. Those morning meetings were critical to staying centered. It felt as though we were building a plane and flying it at the same time, which felt both scary and heady. Luckily, it took place within the fraternity of a committed and caring group.”
Dr. Ofri recounted that, after 9/11, as well as during the pandemic, “professionals kept jumping in from the sidelines to volunteer. Within hours of the collapse of the towers, the ED had filled with staff. People came out of retirement and out from vacation and out of the woodwork. It was very heartening.”
Even more inspiring, “all the departmental barriers seemed to break down. People were willing to step out of their ordinary roles and check their egos at the door. Seasoned physicians were willing to function as medical interns.”
This generosity of time and spirit “helped keep us going,” she said.
Dr. DePierro agreed. “One of the things I’ve seen on medical floors is that COVID actually brought some units together, increasing their cohesion and mutual support and increasing the bonds between people.” These intensified bonds “increased the resilience of everyone involved.”
Commitment to the community
Dr. Ofri recalls families gathering at the hospital after 9/11, watching posters of missing people going up all over the hospital as well as on mailboxes and lampposts. Because the center for missing people was located right next door to Bellevue, there were long lines of families coming in to register. The chief medical office was there, and a huge tent was built to accommodate the families. The tent took up the entire block. “We felt a lot of ownership, because families were coming here,” she said.
The street remained closed even as the days, weeks, and years stretched on, and the tent remained. It was used as a reflection area for families. During the pandemic, that area was used for refrigerated trucks that served as temporary morgues.
“Both logistically and emotionally, we had a feeling during the pandemic of, ‘We’ve been here before, we’ll do it again and be there for the community,’ ” Dr. Ofri said.
She noted that the sense of commitment to the community carried her and fellow clinicians through the toughest parts of 9/11 and of the COVID-19 pandemic.
“People look to the medical system as a lodestar. ‘Where’s my family member? What should I do? Should I be tested? Vaccinated?’ We were there to be a steady presence for the community physically, psychologically, emotionally, and medically, which helped center us as well,” Dr. Ofri said. “If we didn’t have that, we might have all given in to existential panic.”
She added: “Although we had to work twice as hard, often amid great personal risk, we had the good fortune of having a sense of purpose, something to contribute, plus the community of colleagues we cared about and trusted with our lives.”
Crisis and personal growth
Dr. DePierro said that participants who went through 9/11 have been coming to Mount Sinai’s World Trade Center Health Program for care for nearly two decades. “Many are doing quite well, despite the emotional trauma and the dust and toxin exposure, which has given us a window into what makes people resilient.”
Social and community support are key factors in resilience. Another is recognizing opportunities for personal or professional growth during the crisis, according to Dr. DePierro.
During the pandemic, hospital staff were redeployed to departments where they didn’t typically work. They worked with new colleagues and used skills in patient care that they hadn’t needed for years or even decades. “Although this was stressful and distressing, quite a number said they came through with more medical knowledge than before and that they had forged relationships in the trenches that have been lasting and have become important to them,” he reported.
He noted that, during both crises, for first responders and health care practitioners, religious or spiritual faith was a source of resilience. “During the peak of the pandemic, chaplains provided an exorbitant amount of staff support as clinicians turned to the chaplain to help make sense of what they were going through and connect to something greater than themselves.” Similarly, during 9/11, police and fire department chaplains “played a huge role in supporting the first responders,” Dr. DePierro said.
He said that Mount Sinai holds resilience workshops “where we focus on these topics and teach health care workers how to build resilience in their lives, heal day-to-day stressors, and even grow from the experience.”
Dr. Ofri, who is the founder and editor-in-chief of the Bellevue Literary Review, added that the arts played an important role in bolstering resilience and providing a creative outlet for clinicians after 9/11 and again during the pandemic.
The publication is celebrating its twentieth anniversary – its first issue went to press in September 2001. The cover contained an acknowledgment of 9/11.
Dr. Ofri said that a gala event had been planned for Oct. 7, 2001, to celebrate the inaugural issue of the publication. She assumed no one would show up, given that the United States had invaded Afghanistan only hours earlier. To her surprise, over a hundred people attended, “which made me realize the role of the arts during trauma. People were seeking to come together and hear poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.”
Dr. Ofri has been “impressed by the amount of incredible creative writing of all sorts that has been submitted [to the publication] during the pandemic, an unexpected flowering of the arts.”