Direct care workers struggle through pandemic

It was supposed to be over by now. The stress, the increased hours and constant chorus of unanswerable questions. Doris Howard once felt she could protect the people in her care. Over a year and a half into the COVID-19 pandemic, she isn’t sure if she can protect herself.

Howard is one of many direct care workers in long-term care facilities struggling quietly through the pandemic.

There are currently over 4.6 million direct care workers in the U.S., assisting individuals with long-term medical needs, such as the elderly or those with developmental disabilities. Home-health aides and nursing assistants are also included within this group. They work directly in-home or in larger facilities to provide daily support.

As essential workers, the pandemic is placing extra strain on them. Forty two percent of all direct care workers are on some form of public assistance and 15% live in poverty, according to the Paraprofessional Healthcare Institute. These workers are risking their lives and their families' lives for an average annual salary of roughly $28,000, only $4,000 more than an average fast-food worker for 2020.

The CDC reports that by March of 2021 over 140,000 staff across the U.S. were infected with COVID-19. Around 3,000 were hospitalized and nearly 600 had lost their lives.

The risk of the pandemic, and low incentive, has increase doubt among workers.

“I don’t know, it’s just getting crazy out there. I wonder every time if I should still be doing this.” Howard says.

A 2021 report from the Office of the Assistant Secretary for Planning and Evaluation states that two of the major reasons for staffing shortages are fear of the virus and low wages.

As more and more staff leave those who stay are forced to work more.

Ferrari Griffin, an administrator at Livonia Opportunity House, estimates that her workload doubled since the pandemic.

“Normally we have three staff per shift. At one point I had like 11 to 12 staff. Now, right currently, I only have like five staff total and that’s including myself,” says Griffin, “I haven’t had a full-time afternoon person for over a year. I haven’t had a cook for over a year. They might come for a few months then quit.”

Griffin has worked for her agency for over a decade. She works multiple shifts herself on top of her work as an administrator. Some nights she has to prepare dinner for nine people, pass medication and complete clerical duties like payroll and scheduling. After all that she manages two smaller homes in the agency and faces the same struggles. What keeps her going during the pandemic is “love for the folks. I care for them like I care for my family. So, I don’t want to leave them at their lowest. Whatever I can do to help. That’s what I am here for. In order to do this work you got to look past the money.”

However, not everyone can look past the money.

Howard has worked for multiple healthcare providers in southeast Michigan for the last eight years. As a Black woman in her 60s, she fits the main demographic of direct care workers in the U.S. Eighty six percent are women, most are over 55 and 59% are people of color. The CDC reports that 69% of the population living in long-term care facilities are white. This racial divide isn’t invisible to the staff.

“You see it every day. It’s always been like this. But this virus, it just makes you think about it more. You look around and only see people like us doing all the work. We’re risking our lives every day, but no one cares. It’s like we don’t matter,” Howard says.

COVID-19 has led to a change in the way people view their jobs in the U.S. Sixty five percent of workers are looking for new jobs. Home Care Plus reports that Direct Care workers have a turnover rate of 82%.

Megan Loebl is one of those thinking about leaving the field. Loebl started working in a long-term care facility over a year ago because she thought it would fit well with her schedule at school. By the start of October, she found herself infected with COVID-19 and forced to live in her car.

“My sister is immunocompromised,” Loebl says. “She doesn’t feel comfortable because I’m still stuffed up. I didn’t really have any place to go. My Aunt doesn’t have space and my grandparents don’t really have space either. Plus, I can’t risk them.”

Loebl continues to struggle. She needs the money for school but has become tempted with jobs outside of the field that have started raising their pay.

“It’s a mess,” Howard says, “I need the money, but no one wants to pay. There’s all this talk about COVID bonuses, but I haven’t really seen that. Maybe I’m just getting too old for this. I mean, who’s going to take care of me?”

Howard might not be the only one asking that question in the future. The country will need 7.4 million direct care workers by 2029. To reach that goal the field will need to recruit 3.2 million employees in seven years.