Cheryl and Corrina Thinn were almost attached to the hip. The sisters, both members of the Navajo Nation, shared an office with Tuba City Regional Health Care in Arizona. Cheryl has conducted reviews to ensure that patients receive adequate care. Corrina was a social worker. Their desks were only inches apart.
They lived with their mother, Mary Thinn. They helped raise each other’s children.
And they died weeks apart, at the ages of 40 and 44, after falling ill with Covid-19.
Lynette Goldtooth, an employee and close friend, cannot go near her workspace, fearing she may break down.
‘I used to sit in Cheryl’s chair. Corrina and I would just start talking, catching up on what we were doing in our free time, laughing and joking, ‘Goldtooth said.
Cheryl and Corrina are among hundreds of frontline health care workers who have died from Covid-19. The Guardian and KHN are investigating more than 1,000 of the deaths of these workers in the Lost on the Frontline project.
The Navajo Nation was devastated by Covid-19 this spring. In May, it reported the highest per capita infection in the United States. The sisters are among the nearly 500 members of the reservation who died from the virus, according to the Navajo Department of Health.
Experts attributed the spread to the prevalence of multigenerational housing and poor sanitation infrastructure – many homes do not have running water. Like medical centers throughout the country, local hospitals across the Navajo Nation have a shortage of personal protective equipment.
In early March, Corrina saw a patient who was later discovered to have Covid-19, said her sister Chris. The patient died, and Corrina, who had not used any protective equipment, developed symptoms a few days later.
The sisters’ employer declined to comment for this story.
Corrina’s first concern was for Cheryl, who around the same time began to show symptoms of the virus she was contracting. Cheryl’s job as a technician for using evaluations requires face-to-face interaction with patients to verify their insurance and discuss workers’ compensation. She had underlying health conditions, including rheumatoid arthritis.
Chris called Cheryl on her 40th birthday, on March 19th. Cheryl joked about how she was “still young and beautiful” as a baby of the four siblings. But she also complained that it was difficult for her to breathe. She was admitted to Tuba City Hospital the next day.
Corrina’s condition also deteriorated and she checked herself on March 21 in the reporting room in Tuba City. Hospital staff tried treatments while breathing, without benefiting.
Cheryl was taken to Flagstaff Medical Center on March 24. She never knew Corrina was with her in the hospital for a short time.
Corrina was taken to Banner Thunderbird Medical Center in Glendale later that night.
“She just sent us a message that she would fly out, that she loved us and that she would be back,” Chris said.
It was the last time she spoke to Corrina.
Due to shortage, the sisters were not tested for Covid-19 until they were transferred from Tuba City. They both tested positive and were then intubated in their respective hospitals. Cheryl died on April 11, and no family members were allowed to be with her.
“I could not even hold my baby,” her mother said. “I could not even hold her hand when she passed by.”
The family had a small service before Cheryl was buried next to her deceased father, Sgt Jimmie Thinn Sr of the Navajo police, and Cher ex-husband, who died in January.
Nominated by the pain of Cheryl’s death, the family shifted their focus to Corrina.
“You tell yourself we just need to get her healthy enough to come home,” Chris said. “And then all of a sudden she’s gone.”
Corrina died on April 29 – 18 days after her sister’s death and two weeks after her birthday, which she spent in a ventilator. Although she was unconscious, her nurse sang Happy Birthday.
Corrina’s eldest son, Gary Werito Jr., had been trying for weeks to say goodbye to his Fort Bliss Army post in El Paso, Texas. His superiors refused his requests due to concerns that he might adopt the virus on leave.
Werito tried to reach her through prayer.
‘I told her,’ Mom, you’ll go through this. You will come home. You’ll meet your grandmother, ‘he said.
Werito and his wife were expecting their second child, Corrina’s first granddaughter.
Werito remembers his mother as a “model Navajo”.
Goldtooth, the sisters’ friend and colleague, said Corrina was particularly effective because she spoke fluent English and Navajo.
“A lot of people are no longer powerful in Navajo,” she said. “If older people were to come [to the hospital], they do not speak much English. She was there to talk to her. ‘
Cheryl was softer than her sister. Mary remembers her as empathetic and insightful. Her relatives often sought her advice.
Both sisters have left young sons behind. Corrina’s son Michael is 14, and Cheryl’s son, Kyle, has just turned 12. The cousins keep each other company, reminding Mary of the way her daughters behave.
Since June, the Navajo Department of Health has maintained strict guidelines throughout the week. Those measures have been effective because they have seen cases over the past two months. Navajo Nation began its first recovery phase in mid-August, allowing most companies to operate at 25% capacity.
At the end of July, Werito left the army for good and returned home to Tuba City. His daughter was born on August 5 in the same hospital where his mother and aunt worked. Her middle name is Lois, the same as Corrina’s.
Werito said he sometimes forgets that his mother is away and expects her to come home from work.
“My grandmother told me it’s a little peace of mind that I’m home now,” he said. “It kind of filled that void that my mom and my aunt left behind.”
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