It was early in the morning. On a cold, crisp, early spring day, with all the firefighters at the firehouse seated around the kitchen table, coffee in hand, and the sound of full-throated political and sports debates and rustling newspapers filled the well-lived-in dining area. You could hear the news murmuringly playing in the background as a backbeat to this morning ritual at the firehouse. This took place in the mid-1980s, and on this day, the ritual’s noise was brought to silence by the emergency response tone, methodically announcing a request over the intercom.
Two of our trucks at our station were dispatched. It was time to go to work. The original run was for an ill person. Upon arrival, I grabbed the first-aid bag and the stretcher, as was customary for less tenured, basic EMTs (Emergency Medical Technicians) to do. After arriving at the patient’s bedroom, I saw one of the most unusual sights in my young career. It was a man who was extremely inebriated whose skin appeared leopard-like with sequential spots/blemishes (Kaposi’s sarcoma). I could hear one of the more experienced paramedics saying full-blown AIDS. That was something that I had only read about. At that time, no one really knew much about it, to the point that even experienced medics rarely wore surgical bio-protection gloves. The fear and uncertainty surrounding this new, deadly disease undoubtedly contributed to widespread anxiety and mental distress, not only for those afflicted but for healthcare workers and the general public, highlighting how public health crises are intrinsically linked to mental well-being.
For the most part, AIDS was generally known as a viral infection affecting the gay community, originating in the bathhouses of San Francisco, and those who identified as heterosexual had little to be concerned with. To hear of that kind of mentality today is laughable, if not for the deadly consequences of that time. The mass ignorance was breathtaking; even some in the religious community were pronouncing it to be a judgment from God on that community. This societal judgment and the profound stigma attached to AIDS created an environment of immense psychological suffering, isolation, and despair for countless individuals and communities, underscoring the critical need for compassion and mental health support during times of crisis. I thank my God that science prevailed.
Who deserves mental and emotional support was and remains debatable. It is plain to see that through our stratified society, full of so many divisions and beliefs, we will not agree on all things. James Baldwin once said: ”We can disagree and still love each other, unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” This powerful statement directly addresses the profound mental and emotional toll that oppression and the denial of one’s humanity inflict, leading to deep psychological wounds that resonate through individuals and communities.
One could argue that our society is toxic across racial and ethnic divides, and even across disease and its etiology. When we see displays of support and compassion, it is usually outward. However, do we ever think about putting down our protest sign, taking off that protest hat, turning off our favorite news network, and unfolding our praying hands, getting up off our knees to actually travel across the expanse of this divide to ask your neighbor, “Where does it hurt?” and “How can I help relieve the pain?” I argue that these questions should extend beyond what some consider taboo diseases. What prevents us from going deeper and inquiring about the emotional and mental pain that often goes unseen, a crucial step in fostering mental well-being and community healing.
Understanding that pain is real and is part of the human condition, we must not become reduced to seeing everyone as different or less human than the other. Considering our nation’s history from HIV/AIDS to COVID-19, we must recognize that good health for all is better for all. This “good health for all” should not be specific to physical health but should inherently include mental health, recognizing that a truly healthy society addresses both physical and psychological well-being. The historical context of the AIDS epidemic, with its associated fear, stigma, and societal divisions, serves as a powerful reminder of why we should address both physical and mental health with urgency and empathy across racially and ethnically diverse communities, and without regard to disease etiology. At present, the problems we face warrant a comprehensive and compassionate response that considers one’s ability to cope and adjust successfully.
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