I’m Sacramento County’s health officer. Like you, after 100 weeks of COVID, I’m exhausted

The statement posted in the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s weekly report on Feb. 7, 2020, was halting.

“In Dec. 2019, an outbreak of acute respiratory illness caused by a novel coronavirus (2019-nCoV) was detected in mainland China. Cases have been reported in 26 additional locations, including the United States.”

We knew what that meant: A novel virus was starting to spread to other countries and could spell trouble. Respiratory viruses are particularly hard to control because of how quickly they can spread among people merely breathing the same air.

While our team was and always has been prepared for an outbreak, none of us could have predicted how different this one would be and continues to be.

We activated a plan similar to our responses to previous respiratory outbreaks, including SARS and the H1N1 and avian flus. Our entire team worked around the clock to identify travelers coming from China, issuing quarantine orders and providing food, basic needs, testing and monitoring of those who tested positive.

Containing the spread, with such minimal exposure in Sacramento County, was standard practice. We could honestly tell the public that the risk remained low and was under control.

Then came the first confirmed case of community spread in the entire country, right here at UC Davis Medical Center. I remember how shocked we all were when the test came back positive. This person hadn’t traveled or had any known exposure to a person with COVID.

I remember having a long conversation with one of the hospital staff members forced to quarantine as a result of exposure to the patient. He was terrified. He had small children at home and had never spent a night away from them, let alone two weeks.

Then came our first COVID death, of a patient we cared for with Placer County whose symptoms quickly progressed. He died shortly after he was diagnosed. He had traveled to Mexico on a cruise a few weeks earlier and exposed dozens of people who in turn exposed others — many of whom were already experiencing symptoms.

We had lost precious time to do contact tracing during the two-week period before the diagnosis. Testing supplies were scarce, and we had trouble testing suspected cases, including a family with children in the Elk Grove School District.

The burden of being the county public health officer was heavy. I called the district superintendent and explained that we couldn’t rule out the possibility that these children were infected because we didn’t have the testing supplies. He made the difficult decision to shut down the district as a precaution on the assumption that it would be only a short closure. As we now know, it was not.

At this point, we could no longer assure the public that the risk was low. The virus was in the community, and we were well past the point of containment.

We watched what was happening in China, Europe and even in New York with keen interest. We knew that drastic measures had to be taken to prevent it from happening here. County after county declared an emergency and issued stay-at-home orders, and then the state followed. Everything went eerily dark and quiet.

None of my training and preparation led me to expect that I would ever have to issue such an order.

As the shutdown wore on, month after month, impatience in our community turned to anger, fueled in large part by misinformation on social media. At first we thought the shutdown would be over in two months at the most. But with wave after wave of new cases and new orders, we could tell that people were getting anxious. We had bent the curve; why couldn’t we now get on with our lives?

Suddenly, public health officers became a target. I watched with bewilderment as one health officer after another resigned, fearing for their lives. Aghast, I thought, “Wait, we are not the enemy! The virus is!”

Finally, in late 2020, a vaccine brought a huge wave of relief. Our office heard story after story of residents desperate for protection. One couple lined up at 3 a.m. on the day of their appointment to ensure they didn’t miss it.

I personally administered a vaccine to a homeless man in an encampment near our offices. With tears in his eyes, he told me he wanted the vaccine but didn’t think he’d be welcome at a traditional clinic.

Every person vaccinated puts us a step closer to achieving health and safety for our community.

When people ask me what has kept me going through all the ups and downs, I say two things: my staff and the community. My staff have been there right beside me working tirelessly, over long hours, day and night. And the community has rallied behind us, volunteering and sending messages of encouragement and support.

It has also been the countless stories that people have shared with us — stories of loss and anguish at losing loved ones as well as stories of gratitude, especially after we started vaccinations.

As we pass the 100th week of this pandemic and enter a new year, my hope is that our community will eventually get past this. We, like you, are exhausted.