The 66-year-old man who lives in the south side of San Antonio just hung up her phones to let her 2-year-old grandmother walk, chorizo and eggs for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch and a casserole for dinner.
“I will wash the dishes in a hurry and come back after that,” said Arguello, who does not own a computer.
When people say that the Spanish community is difficult to reach, I say ‘baloney’. “People know how to reach us when they want to,” Delgado said. “If people want to sell things to us, whatever it is, they know how to be culturally consistent and language-appropriate. We need to do the same with vaccination.”
Younger Latinos Perform
Securing a Covid-19 vaccine slot was a challenge for many people over the age of 65, especially because of their lack of computer skills, Internet access or limited proficiency in English. In response, younger Latinos have solved problems for them or accepted the responsibility of finding appointments for their parents and grandparents.
After cleaning their homes and struggling to keep jobs during the pandemic, they could not wait to make an appointment. The artist and activist, who lives in Hartford, Connecticut, said her mother was excited when she called and said they had booked an appointment online.
“When they went to the appointment, they found out that they had not actually logged in. For some reason, the system did not capture their appointment,” Segovia said.
Her mother was able to receive a dose that day, but was not scheduled for the second dose. Her father had just been turned down. Segovia spent weeks calling through confusing websites and information lines to help them. As a previously undocumented woman, Segovia says, she has noticed that some providers in her state require photo IDs or ask people to enter social security numbers and health insurance information when registering.
“If you do not have it, you will stop there,” Segovia said. “It’s very unclear that you can skip it. Are you really trying to get us all vaccinated?”
Last week, Segovia was able to secure the appointments for her parents. This was especially difficult because she had to make sure they were in places near their rural Connecticut home or at a time that would not force them to miss work, even if they would drive an hour further.
“They can not do it all while they are at work. I happen to be with a baby at home. If you do not call during the day, we miss the window and it is only Monday to Friday,” Segovia said. .
The ‘worst chapter’ survives
“It was the worst chapter of my life,” the 66-year-old real estate attorney said. “But I feel so blessed by God that I’m still alive.”
He feels sick, lonely and is isolated from his family because he lost his cell phone in the emergency room. He could not tolerate the food and also could not go home because he could not control his oxygen levels. When he was discharged from the hospital, Ochoa said he felt blessed because four of his friends who were also hospitalized in the Covid-19 did not survive.
Ochoa, who suffers from diabetes and recovered from a brain aneurysm before the pandemic, was vaccinated earlier this year. The side effects he sustained did not make him regret taking the shot.
“Everything that could happen to me to take the vaccine felt like my doctors could take care of me. They could not guarantee me anything when I had Covid,” Ochoa said.
Hospitals, county and city governments held massive vaccination sites in the region at schools, conference centers and transit events in recent months. Advocates and leaders in health care have said there is great interest in the vaccine.
At a community clinic that serves mostly uninsured Latino patients in McAllen, staff members are constantly receiving calls from people who want to be vaccinated.
“Everyone who called, we write their names on a logbook to make sure we can contact them again as soon as we get the vaccine,” Resendez said. “I hope it will be sooner rather than later.”
Federal health officials and advocates like Delgado have highlighted the potential impact that community organizations can have on ensuring fairness in the distribution of vaccines.
A Reliable Website
The offices of a union representing migrant workers in Toledo, Ohio, became a vaccination room once a week for nearly two months in an effort to reach colored people.
Velasquez said his organization starts registering eligible people as soon as they are notified that they can give the vaccine. Within days, they registered 153 people, but the country sent only 30 doses in the first week. The number of vaccinations increased every week, as did the number of people interested in getting it, he said.
“When we started reporting the Latino community to sign up for appointments, our phone just rang off the hook for days and weekends,” Velasquez said.
Back in Texas, Rosie Arguello was watching cartoons with her great-grandmother last week when she received a call from a family member and burst into tears. Her and her husband’s names were finally on a list to get a vaccine at a local health clinic within days.
She was happy because after she was vaccinated, she would see and embrace her many grandchildren and still be safe.