decade after a tuberculosis epidemic gripped New York City, raging through
Harlem at a rate not seen since the early 1900's, the disease has taken another
turn in the circle of its history. While overall numbers have declined,
tuberculosis is now most prevalent in the immigrant neighborhoods of Queens,
where it poses a growing public health threat.
In Corona, immigrants from the countries most ravaged by the disease
including China, Ecuador, Haiti, India, Mexico, Bangladesh and Pakistan have
settled in droves over the last decade. The city's Department of Health runs one
of the busiest tuberculosis clinics in the country there, one that treated
37,000 patients last year.
The rate of tuberculosis in Corona was the highest in the city in 2001 36.1
cases per 100,000 people, more than double the citywide average of 15.7 cases
and at least seven times the national average. For the first time, the incidence
of tuberculosis in Corona surpassed the rate in Central Harlem, for decades the
epicenter of tuberculosis in the city.
Tuberculosis, an airborne lung infection that kills 2 million people a year
worldwide, was largely brought under control in New York City after the epidemic
peaked in 1992, when it was fueled by AIDS and homelessness. City health
officials have reported a steady decline since then in new tuberculosis cases
among New Yorkers born in the United States.
The disease's shift to immigrants reflects a kind of turning back of the
clock to the turn of the 20th century, when tuberculosis rippled through the
city's immigrant population, spreading rapidly through tenements and windowless
factories.
"It's a dramatic change in the disease," said Sonal Munsiff, assistant
commissioner for the Tuberculosis Control Program at the New York City
Department of Health. She added, "We are no longer in crisis mode, but in
certain places, case rates are many, many times more than they should be."
While the change has occurred in cities around the country, it is most
striking in New York, which has the highest rate of tuberculosis in the nation.
In 1992, only 18 percent of the new tuberculosis cases were among foreign-born
New Yorkers, according to the Department of Health. In 2001, 64 percent of the
1,261 new tuberculosis cases were among immigrants.
And so, Queens is now the front line of the city's aggressive battle, which
commands an annual budget of $37.5 million. Most worrisome to health officials
is that people with an active infection, which typically festers in the lungs,
shutting them down with wrenching pain if untreated, can be highly contagious.
The disease is most likely to spread through the air in enclosed or crowded
spaces. On average, a person with an active infection will spread the disease
through coughing or sneezing to 15 to 20 other people in a year's time,
according to the World Health Organization.
A team of health workers based in Corona fan out through the borough to find
and treat patients. The workers often comb remote places like a junkyard in the
shadow of Shea Stadium, and not long ago they stumbled on an apartment crammed
with Ecuadorean immigrants. In all, more than 60 people who had lived there were
infected.
"This is a tough bug to kill," said Errol Robinson, director of the Queens
Network for the city's tuberculosis program, who oversees the Corona Chest
Center.
Mr. Robinson, who began working in the program 14 years ago, used to spend
much of his time working in homeless shelters, at encampments under bridges or
in the streets of Harlem and the South Bronx. Now his staff works with
immigrants, knocking on their doors before they head to work, and he relies on
translators or bilingual workers to communicate with patients.
While the incidence of the disease in Corona is still far below the case rate
in Central Harlem at the epidemic's zenith in 1992 240 cases per 100,000
people it has nevertheless sounded an alarm.
For one thing, the Corona tuberculosis rate reflects only those patients who
have been tested at the city's newly renovated clinic on Junction Boulevard or
by other area doctors. Health officials say that countless more are likely to be
infected but untouched by the city's campaign to track them down and treat them
with a course of medication that takes six to nine months to complete.
Lloyd Walker, one of the public health workers, sees an average of 13
patients a day. He zooms through the streets of Queens in his blue Ford Taurus
with a medication log and a bottle of hand cleanser for patients who need to
wash up before taking their pills. His job is part of a treatment for
tuberculosis known as Directly Observed Therapy, which was credited with
bringing the epidemic under control and drastically reducing the number of cases
in Harlem and other hot zones. Under the treatment, patients are observed taking
their daily medication, usually five days a week.
At the beginning of treatment, a patient must take as many as four different
drugs every day. And it is often a challenge to get patients who work up to 14
hours a day, drift from home to home or leave and re-enter the country, to stick
to the regimen.
If they do not complete the treatment, which cures the disease but does not
prevent contracting it again, patients can build up immunity to the drugs and
then face years of treatment. And drug resistant strains have been on the rise.
Each day about noon, Santos Rodriguez, who lives in the junkyard near Shea,
meets Mr. Walker in the back of an auto body shop. The men who work in the
nearby auto parts shops know Mr. Walker, and they usually help him find Mr.
Rodriguez, a 42-year-old Salvadoran immigrant.
Mr. Rodriguez said he became ill with tuberculosis last year, experiencing
night sweats, fatigue, loss of appetite, a severe cough all symptoms of the
disease and was hospitalized for more than two months.
"Santos!" the men called the other day, when they saw Mr. Walker's car pull
up to the shop on Willets Point Boulevard. A few minutes later, Mr. Rodriguez
walked to a cabinet where he keeps his bottles of medication, in a drawer full
of wrenches and bolts. In the back of the shop, Mr. Walker put down two pieces
of paper towel on a plank of plywood. Mr. Rodriguez, who does odd jobs in the
shops, washed the grease off his hands with the cleanser Mr. Walker gave him and
took six pills.
Mr. Rodriguez has missed his medication several times and once lost his three
bottles, he said, but he has been observed five days a week for the past month.
For that, he has reaped regular rewards from the health workers, including
coupons for Kentucky Fried Chicken and juice. "I know I have to do this," he
said in Spanish.
Many immigrants are arriving with the dormant form of tuberculosis, which can
either develop into an active infection if the immune system is weakened or
never lead to illness, according to experts and several medical studies.
Screening for tuberculosis is common among immigrants arriving legally, but many
others make their way to New York City without ever being tested.
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