What I’ll really miss about Dr. Mandy Cohen
A strange thing happened to me during a recent North Carolina coronavirus briefing. I’d grown accustomed to the predictable rhythm of these news conferences, but after giving her usual update Dr. Mandy Cohen shook things up by talking about her plan to step down as secretary of the N.C. Department of Health and Human Services. As soon as she said those words, a flurry of unexpected emotion washed over me: I felt unsettled, sad, and weirdly adrift.
There was no clear explanation for my reaction. A public health official had decided to move on to another stage in her career. This was not catastrophic news. I don’t know Cohen or have any personal connection to her, so why was I taking this news so hard?
It didn’t take much introspection to find the answer — Dr. Mandy Cohen meant much more to me over these past 22 months than her title could ever suggest.
In the early months of COVID, I, like so many others, began to fray. While grateful for my family’s health and financial security, I was worn down by managing school at home for my kids, trying to squeeze work into 90 second increments of “down time,” and constantly worrying about my husband’s work in a local emergency department. I was completely overwhelmed.
In the before times I wasn’t a news fiend, but I anxiously devoured news updates about COVID-19 on my local public radio station. My pulse would quicken when I heard the introduction for the state coronavirus briefings. I’d listen while washing the towering pile of dishes in the sink, gripping the sponge so tightly that my fingers ached. My breath stuck in my chest as Gov. Roy Cooper relayed the latest increases in infections, hospitalizations, and inevitably, deaths.
But as the months passed, I stopped bracing myself for the briefings. Even when the numbers were dismal, the updates themselves became a comfort. Small things, like the pattern of the speaker lineup, the choreographed transitions from one official to the next, and even the goofy repetition of certain phrases (I’ll never forget the “3 Ws”) provided a routine to count on amid the uncertainty.
The shaky ground of my pandemic life felt just a bit more solid during those briefings, especially when I heard Cohen’s voice.
Yes, she excelled in her most important role — she provided clear, consistent, trustworthy information about how to keep our communities as safe as possible. She also communicated something harder to pinpoint. She talked about how hard things were, she shared her own fatigue, vulnerability and concern, she talked about her kids — no small thing considering so many women pay a career price for their family responsibilities. And, yes, she talked about their vaccinations.
When she lamented not being able to celebrate Passover the way she always had, you didn’t need to be Jewish, or religious at all, to commiserate with her over the loss of cherished family traditions.
Cohen publicly navigated the pandemic, not just as DHHS Secretary but, as a thoughtful and compassionate human whose journey has been, at least in some way, similar to all of ours. Every time she spoke, I felt less alone and less anxious. Every time she spoke, I felt better.
As 2021 ended, so did Cohen’s tenure as North Carolina’s public health director. While I imagine we’ll hear her voice again very soon, for now I want to use mine to say: Thank you, Dr. Mandy Cohen, for your extraordinary service.