Hazel Pulliam doesn’t like COVID-19. She shakes her head vigorously at the mention of it.

It’s a Sunday afternoon in November and Pulliam is sitting in her room in one of L’Arche Greater Washington, D.C.’s homes in Arlington, joined by an assistant Lauren Palmer, who wears a mask. Since the pandemic began, Pulliam has stayed in her room more than she used to. 

These days, she spends most of her time with Palmer, her three housemates, and other assistants. If she wants to see other people, including her sister who lives nearby, she has to do it outside from a distance. 

Palmer asks her if that’s been the most difficult part of the pandemic. 

“Yes, uh huh, yeah,” Pulliam says, nodding. 

Pulliam is part of L’Arche, a community of people with and without intellectual disabilities who live together in group homes within an interdenominational Christian community. L’Arche operates four of these homes, with two each in D.C. and Arlington. Each house supports two to four residents — or “core members,” as the organization calls them — along with their caretakers, some of whom live in the homes as well.

Since the pandemic began, L’Arche has kept all four of its homes, including its 14 residents and their assistants, COVID-19 infection-free — no small feat, considering that shared housing and congregate settings face greater challenges when preventing the spread of the virus. 

A June study by the Disability and Health Journal that looked at congregate settings for people with disabilities found that those groups may be at higher risk for more serious outcomes if infected with COVID-19. Earlier this month, The New York Times reported that people with intellectual disabilities and developmental disorders are three times more likely to die if they get Covid-19 than others with the illness. 

Realizing the unique threat the virus posed to its residents, L’Arche moved quickly in March to secure personal protective equipment for staff, implement strict screening protocols, and ban all visitors, including volunteers, from the group homes.

“We recognized that each of us is making individual choices, and that my choice impacts you,” says Eva-Elizabeth Chisholm, human services leader for L’Arche. Chisholm ascribes the organization’s success so far to quick and strict action that hinges on personal responsibility. 

As local and national public officials have repeatedly urged Americans to make personal sacrifices to mitigate spreading the virus among the greater community, L’Arche’s residents and assistants have done that, with assistants sometimes forgoing seeing their family and committing to tighter restrictions on cleanliness, visitors, and activities within the homes. 

For Palmer, who has been an assistant for five years, it means she’s had to make sacrifices in her own life, including only seeing her family outside in their backyard. 

“People with disabilities are so much more likely to die from COVID. That amount of pressure on my actions and my choices as someone who is in this home and supports people who are at extremely higher risk—that, to me, is one of the hardest parts,” she says. 

Early on in the pandemic, L’Arche began engaging with local health authorities, and employees still regularly attend weekly forums with D.C. health officials, both to receive guidance and ask questions. 

“We have worked really hard to ensure that our assistants have the support that they need,” Chisholm says. In addition to stocking up on personal protective equipment, L’Arche assessed levels of risk with assistants, from their use of public transportation to potential risk within their families. They also talked through symptom screenings with core members and assistants. Everyone receives temperature and symptom screenings at least twice a day. 

Perhaps more difficult was L’Arche’s effort to shift its programming during daytime hours. Because many residents go to day programs or work jobs — which they couldn’t do when Mayor Muriel Bowser implemented stay-at-home orders in March — those people found themselves with significant free time on their hands. 

“Everyone was all of a sudden staying at home. We need to adjust a lot of our daily scheduling. We had a lot to learn,” Chisholm says. 

This meant assistants and core members had to work together to fill the hours of the day while also doing so safely. (At this time, only core members and assistants, who wear personal protective equipment at all times, are allowed in the home.) 

Assistants began to ask residents: What do you like to do during the day?

For some, that was joining walking groups or outdoor art classes. Someone even signed up for a drum circle. 

Pulliam’s group home has gone to a pumpkin patch, gone on walks, and even participated in bird watching—although Pulliam found that boring. She prefers making friendship bracelets and, occasionally, playing pranks on her housemates. She occasionally goes on drives to see her sister outdoors from a distance.

For Joseph Butler, who has been a core member in a L’Arche home in Adams Morgan for one year, it’s cooking with assistant Meredith Gursky, as well as talking about what he loves. Prior to the pandemic, Butler spent a large part of his day in a program at the local library. He hasn’t been there since March.

One of the other houses has also been doing mini-TEDed Talks, which Butler has participated in virtually, too, giving talks on football, Black Lives Matter, and how to play Jenga. 

The toll of the pandemic may be most apparent during dinner time, often a big communal activity for the organization that includes blessing the meal, and having assistants, core members, friends, and family members seated at the table.

“We moved,” Butler explains. Guests cannot come to dinner and tables are now spaced six feet apart, making it difficult for Butler to communicate with his housemates, including one member who uses sign language. 

With the holidays coming up, Gursky says the home has been having collecting conversations about their expectations and hopes. The assistant, who hasn’t seen her own family since July, spent Thanksgiving with Butler, his housemate and three other assistants.

Palmer, who also didn’t see family over Thanksgiving, says she is lucky to have Pulliam to help her through the pandemic. 

“When you give me big bear hugs, that makes it a lot better,” Palmer tells Pulliam, who responds that she is going to steal Palmer’s nose and glasses, resulting in giggles from the two. 

But because L’Arche is now responsible for filling residents’ days with activities, the organization has also faced ongoing funding challenges. While Medicaid has increased its reimbursement rates for health care providers during the public health emergency, it’s up to states to dole out those funds. According to Chisholm, the organization’s Medicaid providers received additional reimbursement in D.C. to cover daytime hours, but in Virginia, not all of its providers were eligible for the enhanced rate. 

“We’re not designed to be a 24/7 day program, plus medical care, residential care,” Palmer says. Chisholm confirms that was one of the challenges when shutdown first began. 

And despite the organization’s success in preventing infections so far, Gursky says she still has a deep-seated fear of that changing, especially as cases rise in the region.

“Obviously we’ve done very good work,” Gursky says. But she also admits: “There is certainly a component of luck there too.”

There are other challenges that L’Arche is still trying to overcome: isolation and a creeping sense of burnout as the pandemic continues, among both residents and staff. Palmer says that, for her, the pandemic has magnified long-standing inequities, highlighting the isolation people with disabilities face. 

Assistants say the homes used to be full of visitors, from churchgoers to family members. Now, dinner is much quieter. Both Butler and Pulliam say they miss their families. While both have been able to see their siblings during the pandemic, they can only do so outside, from a distance, without any physical contact. 

Additionally, Chisholm says the organization has thought hard about how to avoid creating an institutional setting, which is the opposite of what L’Arche wants. Part of that effort, during a pandemic, means ensuring everyone in the organization understands that the changes being made are attempts to maximize safety, not restrict residents. 

“Are we including our core members in conversations around how we’re rearranging our furniture and how were structuring meal times?” she says the organization asks. And when a vaccine finally becomes available, Chisholm hopes people with intellectual disabilities will be prioritized; she is also thinking about how the organization can advocate for them. 

Until then, L’Arche continues to have open discussions about what they want, and has begun preparing for the holidays. Pulliam and Palmer had planned to celebrate Thanksgiving eating a lot, decorating for Christmas, and watching movies. 

“Since we got nothing else to do, we might as well celebrate super hardcore,” Palmer says. 

This story has been updated to reflect that Hazel Pulliam lives in Arlington.