Newsman on other side of a coronavirus story
Brandon Benavides may be working in the District of Columbia for the third time in his life, but the 39-year-old San Antonian’s mind isn’t ever far from home.
Getting back here for Thanksgiving safely during a global pandemic has been Priority One for the longtime television news producer. It’s why he decided to serve as a guinea pig for a coronavirus vaccine trial.
It might have been harder for his family to undergo, than for him.
The drug under investigation was developed by biotech company Moderna, partnering with the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases at the National Institutes of Health.
NIAID Director Dr. Anthony Fauci has called the 2-year trial rigorous and the drug “safe and immunogenic.” It’s part of the federal government’s Operation Warp Speed.
Last week, 28 days after his first injection, Benavides received a second that could make him immune to a potentially deadly virus. One that has killed more than 228,000 people in the United States and more than 1 million worldwide.
He was among about 30,000 adult volunteers who didn’t have COVID-19 when screened.
A graduate of Business Careers High School, St. Edward’s University and American University, Benavides has never been part of a drug study.
A resident of Maryland’s Prince George County, one hard-hit by the coronavirus, Benavides was drawn to the trial for two reasons — his own family’s safety when he visits and the study’s need for Black and Latino participants.
Benavides applied online for three COVID-19 studies and was rejected by one outright because it sought high-risk participants.
He wanted to be part of the Moderna trial, considered one of the most promising.
He hopes he received the actual vaccine and not the placebo. But either way, Benavides says he’ll continue to take the same precautions recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and required of his employer, News4, the NBC owned and operated station in Washington, D.C.
He works from home three times a week, does two overnight shifts at the station with a couple of other staff members who all wear masks, and he never uses public transportation.
Until recently, he had his groceries delivered and hasn’t been to a restaurant or bar, or anywhere else for that matter, since March.
He had previously tested negative for COVID-19 and for its anti-bodies.
At the health screening at Optimal Research, a small clinic in Rockville, Maryland, he tested negative again. Thirty minutes later, he received the first of two injections.
He texted his brother and sister in San Antonio.
“I didn’t tell my parents,” he said. That would be another kind of trial.
Researchers asked him not to look at the needle or the box containing the medicine or placebo.
He had no reactions, such as swelling or redness at the injection site, or swollen glands under his armpit.
For the next seven days, he monitored his temperature each day and was given a ruler to measure swelling around the needle site and under his arm. Again, there was none.
As part of the study, Benavides records daily diary entries via a phone app.
His reaction to the second injection last week was different. His temperature rose by a degree, and he was a little sore at the injection site.
He came home and slept. Fatigue is a side effect, but he works overnight and feeling tired isn’t unusual.
Later he woke with night sweats and a headache. He took ibuprofen and called the clinical trial to report his symptoms.
“That’s when I fully realized I was a guinea pig,” he said. The doctor gathered data but “wasn’t there to treat me.”
Back home, temperatures were high, too. His mother had become so upset about his participation in the drug trial, he was unable to tell her the full story over the phone.
Several uncles called him, and he spoke with a few aunts. Not all of them, “that would be a lot of tías,” he joked. Everyone has calmed down. He’s preparing to travel home for Thanksgiving. It will be different. Where once he visited three family homes with 30 to 40 people, this year’s dinners will be smaller.
His parents will host three others, including him, for dinner.
Benavides never thought deeply about his participation in the trial until a friend said it would help humanity. He got a little emotional about that over the phone.
“That felt powerful,” he said.
He’ll be back at the research clinic in November, and every 28 days thereafter for the next two years.