Outbreaks in a Post-COVID World

by Emerson Prentice for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics

Hantavirus through a microscope, via the CDC

"Unlike COVID-19, for many, the horrific memories of the 2014 Ebola outbreak have faded." 

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) responded to a hantavirus outbreak reported on May 2. The outbreak resurfaced panic and fears from the COVID-19 outbreak of the 2020s. Despite reactions, global health organizations like the World Health Organization (WHO) assure the risk from hantavirus to the US is low.  

The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) is experiencing its own outbreak of a different nature—Ebola. On May 15, researchers identified an outbreak of a rare strain. It's a species of Ebola unlike that which scientists have seen before. Both the hantavirus and Ebola virus have confounded scientists tracking the outbreaks because of the unique nature of the strains. 

The two outbreaks in quick succession and in close proximity to the COVID pandemic have shaped public response—fear is top of mind, and trust in public health officials globally is low. Aid has also been lacking as the outbreak has since outpaced the response. 

Like for hantavirus, the CDC says that the risk of Ebola to the US remains low. However, the situation in the DRC continues to be deeply concerning. As of June 3, there have been 62 confirmed deaths from Ebola, though officials from WHO and other public health organizations believe the true death toll may be far higher. They also warn that this outbreak has the potential to be the largest in history, which could, in part, be due to the rollback of aid from the US during the Trump administration. 

Obtaining an exact count of those infected by Ebola is an obstacle, not for lack of testing but for lack of existing tests due to the rare strain. And even when there is sufficient testing available, disseminating results to patients can be a lengthy and difficult process, due to the terrain in the DRC and conflict in the surrounding area. 

Medical officials have further expressed frustration with the speed of the global response, considering the potential severity of the outbreak. The lack of funding invested in proper testing for the disease is playing a role in the slow-moving response. For this strain, there is no vaccine or proven treatment, despite pledges to develop adequate testing and treatments—like those from the company KH Medical—even when it’s not commercially beneficial. 

In the resurgence of Ebola, past survivors like Patrick Faley remind people what the previous outbreak—which took the lives of 11,000—looked like. Unlike COVID-19, for many, the horrific memories of the 2014 Ebola outbreak have faded. 

Photograph from the last Ebola outbreak in West Africa in 2014. Via Getty Images.

Faley outlined how an Ebola outbreak is especially devastating because of the way in which it attacks communities. Families can no longer properly care for their loved ones or carry out rituals with the dead without the danger of infection, particularly because of the lack of protective gear.  

The Trump administration is also taking dramatic precautions to deal with returning passengers to the US who were exposed to the hantavirus. Following a three-week quarantine, they will be closely monitored by public health workers or law enforcement for an additional three weeks. 

These restrictions have exceeded those which were imposed during the hantavirus outbreak in 2018, which was successfully contained. Practices in 2026 are in stark contrast to Trump’s criticisms of ‘overly strict’ COVID-19 restrictions. 

Fear of infection may still be justified, particularly with increasing global travel during the World Cup. For most individuals, though, common infections like respiratory and intestinal viruses would be expected—not Ebola or the hantavirus. Vaccination rates in America, Canada, and other countries have also been falling, which further increases the potential threat of infections to the public. 

Amid the outbreak, the Trump Administration’s focus has been on protecting US soil from infection rather than providing aid. Trump has emphasized isolationist policies despite growing concerns from public health officials about the potential global repercussions. This approach is further highlighted in his travel bans and mandated quarantines in Kenya for US citizens.  

Trump’s response mirrors that which he implemented during the COVID-19 pandemic—the prioritization of a border sealed from external infection. 

On May 18, the CDC and the DRC began implementing travel screening and entry restrictions to manage the outbreak. If you have recently travelled through an affected country, you’re advised to follow travel health notices and seek medical attention if you develop symptoms. 

The danger of the largest Ebola outbreak in history and its global impacts continues to loom amid slow aid reaction, surging fears, and an increasing spread. 

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Emerson Prentice is a Freshman at Stanford studying Anthropology. At school, she is the Campus Life desk editor for the Stanford Daily, a DJ for the campus radio station KZSU, and an associate producer for the Stanford Storytelling Project’s award-winning podcast, “State of the Human.” For fun, Emerson also loves to run, cook, and birdwatch!

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An Interview with Apuroopa Kavikondala: On Mental Health Action Week at Purdue University

by Mikaela Brewer for The 44 North, Senior Editor

The Winner of MHAW’s Philanthropy Challenge, in partnership with Mental Health America, Wabash Valley Region, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

"Now the president of MHAW 2027, I’m incredibly excited to continue fostering this mission and environment on Purdue’s campus with our Boilermakers, because the impact won’t stay in West Lafayette; it’ll grow everywhere." 

Editor’s Note:

Mental Health Action Week (MHAW) is a student-led organization at Purdue University that brings a dedicated week of mental health programming to campus each spring (March 2-6th, 2026, this year). For the past seven years, they’ve fostered a campus culture rooted in support, understanding, and resilience around mental health. 

The MHAW team believes this initiative not only strengthens their campus but also advances the broader effort to destigmatize mental health. I spoke with MHAW 2027’s president, Apuroopa Kavikondala, about the impact of this work. 

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Mikaela Brewer (MB): I’m inspired by how hard you worked to reflect and build in all parts of student life/experience throughout the week: Conversation, academics, community/culture, movement/nourishment, and creativity. What offerings seemed to resonate most with students? With you? Did anything pleasantly surprise you about this year’s lineup, in particular?

Apuroopa Kavikondala (AK): We were so excited to involve all parts of student life during this week! From clubs and student organizations to athletics, the various colleges (such as Engineering and the Business School), and even our very own Recreational Sports Center, which hosted various events in honour of MHAW, to collaboration in our mission, our commitment made MHAW 2026 a success. Some examples of student organizations contributing to our cause include: 

• Our kickoff celebration in partnership with Purdue Student Government and various other mental health organizations, such as the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

• The run club hosting a run in honour of MHAW and mental health

• Our Unity Day celebration to honour what our well-being thrives on—community and connection. The celebration included food, performances, a creativity fair, our special guest, Purdue Pete (our mascot), and so much more!

• A stress-board-breaking event by the Taekwondo club, where you’d write your stressors on a board and then break it!

• A weeklong fundraiser challenge with fraternities, sororities, and cooperative life (FSCL), where half of the donations were directed to philanthropy and half to our partnership with Mental Health America (Wabash Valley Region)

A hand-drawn MHAW 2026 poster, stickers, and t-shirts at an outdoor booth, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

Overall, students loved the variety of events we hosted because no matter what they were interested in, they were able to participate. It made students feel like they belonged and were heard, even in the busyness of our lives.

MB: I love the imagery, story, and metaphor you wove into MHAW. Could you share more about why growth and blooming are so central to what you (and former students!) have built and offered over the past 7 years? 

AK: MHAW used to be a part of the Purdue Student Government (fully hosted by them), so this was our first year as our own organization! The reason we wanted to make growth/plants our theme was that it’s so central to how life works and moves. Everything blooms, and then it falls/decays like leaves in Autumn. In due time, it’ll bloom again, and that’s what mental health and well-being are about. We go through phases, and that’s human! It’s very important to rely on one another and seek support, especially in those times of regrowth. 

MB: You’ve done excellent, empowering work connecting people, staff, resources, spaces, etc., to bring MHAW to life. From the outside, peeking in, it feels real: I see an authentic, full-community, hands-on gathering where everyone both gives and receives care. What did it feel like to nurture these relationships and bring so many people together in support of a shared goal? How might your work be a model for other university students hoping to do something similar? And beyond, across workplaces, politics, etc.?

MHAW logo, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

AK: Purdue has such a great community around well-being and mental health, the MH one being Purdue CAPS (Counselling and Psychological Services), so it was beautiful to see the collaborations come to life during the week. Mental health is universal; we all have it, we all struggle, and we all must learn how to navigate those situations—not alone, but with the help of others. Any other university that wants to implement their own Mental Health Action Week should first recognize other parts of student life that can support it, whether it’s their mental health resources on campus, other mental health/wellbeing-related organizations, or even—especially!—collaborations that aren’t necessarily directly correlated. Mental health is connected to every part of campus life; we can take action from many angles. Ultimately, the reason we wanted to call the ‘A’ in MHAW “action” instead of “awareness” is that it’s time we started creating a more welcoming space for people to use the resources at hand and feel less alone. It’s one thing to talk; it’s another to do. 

Purdue Pete, via Apuroopa Kavikondala

MB: I’m curious if you, Sunishka (MHAW President, 2026), and your team learned anything about yourselves and your own mental health during MHAW? Designing, creating, and giving something so expansive can be nourishing, of course. But it can also be a lot! In this type of role—which many will relate to across education and mental health care systems—how did you care for yourselves? 

AK: MHAW was definitely a time commitment, but the reason we were so willing to put the time needed into it is that it’s such a great cause—one that’s dear to all our hearts. Even though we organized MHAW, we definitely still felt its impact and resonance in our own lives. During organizing, outreach, and implementation, we made sure to divide tasks among ourselves, ask for help when there was a lot on our plates (because we are, of course, people and students first!), and just tried to do our best wherever possible. MHAW 2026 was possible, honestly, because of a dream team, and I truly am grateful for the reliability and hard work that everyone offered. 

Now the president of MHAW 2027, I’m incredibly excited to continue fostering this mission and environment on Purdue’s campus with our Boilermakers, because the impact won’t stay in West Lafayette; it’ll grow everywhere. 

The Pathogen of Perception: Quantifying the Multi-Dimensional Cost of Medical Misinformation

by Jason Wang for The 44 North

Winner of our Inaugural Essay Contest

A doctor crossing their arms in front of a purple background with cartoon vaccine syringes. Their face is covered by anti-vaccination social media posts.

"The cost of misinformation shows up in obituaries and hospital bills. The value of a scientifically literate society shows up in the deaths that never happen and the crises we prevent before they spiral. My grandmother is alive today because accurate information eventually reached her through the noise. How many others could we save if we made sure it reached them first?"

In the Canadian Armed Forces, we're taught that the most dangerous threat is often the one that remains hidden. Today, that danger is no longer confined to a physical battlefield; it has taken root in the digital spread of medical misinformation.

As a Grade 12 student aspiring for a future in neurosurgery, I see misinformation not merely as a social ill, but as a clinical hazard. It behaves less like an abstract idea and more like a pathogen, producing tangible harms that strain public health systems, burden the economy, and undermine collective safety. During the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic, my own grandmother—a woman who survived the 2003 SARS outbreak in China and understood the visceral reality of respiratory illness—found herself paralyzed by skepticism. Despite her lived history, the sheer volume of digital misinformation regarding vaccine safety led her to abhor the very medical breakthrough designed to protect her.

It was only through exhaustive persuasion and the presentation of rigorous clinical data that she begrudgingly consented to immunization. Her hesitation was not born of ignorance, but of a systemic failure in information integrity. It was through this experience that I realized medical misinformation acts as an informational pathogen that imposes a tripartite cost: biological, economic, and societal, ultimately illustrating that the erosion of scientific literacy is a tangible threat to human life and the stability of the healthcare system.

Misinformation is not a victimless exchange of ideas; it has a direct, pathological impact on human physiology. During the COVID-19 pandemic, researchers attempted to quantify the death toll attributable to vaccine refusal. A 2022 study published in The Lancet estimated that COVID-19 vaccination prevented approximately 14.4 million deaths globally in the first year of availability (Watson et al., 2022). Working backward from that figure, the Kaiser Family Foundation calculated that between June 2021 and March 2022, at least 234,000 COVID-19 deaths in the United States could have been prevented if unvaccinated individuals had received the vaccine (Amin et al., 2022). These were not deaths caused by vaccine scarcity, logistical failures, or overwhelmed hospitals. Medical intervention existed and was available. What failed was the transmission of accurate information to the populations who needed it most.

The pathway from misinformation to mortality operates through two distinct but interconnected mechanisms. At the individual level, false beliefs about vaccine safety leave people vulnerable to severe disease outcomes. COVID-19 disproportionately threatens specific populations: the elderly, individuals with underlying conditions like diabetes or cardiovascular disease, and the immunocompromised. When a 70-year-old diabetic encounters claims that "natural immunity is superior" or that vaccines alter DNA, they're being steered toward a preventable death. The data from 2021 is unambiguous: unvaccinated individuals died and were at higher risk of infection from COVID-19 at rates 13.9 and 53.2 times higher than their vaccinated counterparts, respectively (Johnson et al., 2022). That mortality gap represents actual bodies, not abstract risk calculations.

At the population level, vaccine hesitancy degrades what epidemiologists term “herd immunity, the phenomenon where high vaccination coverage protects even those who cannot be vaccinated by suppressing overall transmission. Herd immunity requires crossing specific thresholds: for measles, approximately 95% of the population must be immune to prevent sustained outbreaks (Osman et al., 2022). When misinformation depresses vaccination rates below these critical levels, diseases that had been eliminated for decades resurface.

Canada's experience is instructive. Between 2019 and 2023, routine childhood vaccination coverage dropped from 90% to 82% (Jacobsen, 2025). In November 2025, Canada lost its measles elimination status after 27 years. Canada recorded over 5,100 cases in a single year (Soucheray, 2025). Two infants died after contracting the virus in utero, before they could be vaccinated. The virus had not mutated into a more dangerous form. The vaccine had not failed. The only variable that changed was information integrity. The cruelty of this dynamic lies in its distribution of harm. The individuals who bear the biological cost are often not the ones who rejected the medical intervention. The infants who died in Canada's measles outbreak made no decisions about vaccine safety. The immunocompromised cancer patient who contracts COVID-19 from an unvaccinated colleague did not choose vulnerability. The child who develops measles because their parents believed discredited claims about vaccine-induced autism did not consent to that infection. When misinformation convinces one person to refuse vaccination, the biological consequences radiate outward, creating community-wide vulnerabilities that extend far beyond individual choice.

Beyond direct biological harm, misinformation creates a preventable fiscal crisis for healthcare systems built on the principle of prevention. The economic logic of vaccination is straightforward: a small upfront cost prevents far larger expenses later.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, this logic played out in real time. Between June and November 2021, hospitalizations of unvaccinated adults cost the U.S. healthcare system approximately $13.8 billion, according to research by the Peterson Center on Healthcare and the Kaiser Family Foundation (Farrenkopf, 2022). That figure represents just five months in a single country. The vaccines were free to patients. The hospital stays were not. ICU beds, ventilators, weeks of round-the-clock nursing care, and post-discharge rehabilitation drove costs that dwarfed what prevention would have required. Each COVID-19 hospitalization in Canada averaged roughly $20,000 for non-ICU care and exceeded $50,000 for ICU treatment, according to CIHI (CBC News, 2021). Across hundreds of thousands of largely preventable hospitalizations, the resulting economic waste becomes staggering. The Commonwealth Fund estimated that COVID-19 vaccination prevented approximately $900 billion in U.S. healthcare costs during the first year of vaccine availability alone (Schneider et al., 2022).

The opportunity cost of this spending is as important as the headline numbers. The National Cancer Institute operates on an annual budget of about $6.9 billion. The $13.8 billion spent on preventable COVID hospitalizations in five months could have funded nearly two years of cancer research. It could have paid the annual salaries of roughly 138,000 nurses or purchased more than 2,700 MRI machines, substantially reducing diagnostic delays. Instead, those resources were consumed treating a disease for which effective, free prevention already existed.

Canada experienced a similar dynamic. Fraser Institute estimated that the Canadian government spent approximately $359.7 billion responding to COVID-19, with an estimated 25% (89.9 billion) wasted (Fuss, Hill, 2023). While not all of that spending was avoidable, vaccine hesitancy accounted for billions that could otherwise have modernized hospital infrastructure, expanded mental-health services, or reduced surgical backlogs that left tens of thousands of Canadians waiting in pain.

Outbreak response costs further expose the inefficiency created by misinformation. When vaccine-preventable diseases resurge, public health systems must mobilize extensive emergency operations: contact tracing, laboratory testing, isolation protocols, and redeployment of clinical staff. Contact tracing a single measles case can cost between $10,000 and $50,000 (Hyle et al., 2018). A 2018–2019 measles outbreak in New York involving 649 cases cost the city approximately $8.4 million in emergency response alone (about $12,900 per case), excluding hospital treatment (Zucker et al., 2020). By comparison, the two-dose MMR vaccine costs roughly $100 (Antoneshyn, 2025). These are not abstract inefficiencies; they are real budget line items and real staff hours diverted from other priorities.

As immunologist Dawn Bowdish has noted, cuts to public-health funding, the lack of a national vaccine registry, physician shortages, and widespread misinformation reinforce one another. Budget cuts weaken the infrastructure needed to counter misinformation. Misinformation lowers vaccination rates. Outbreaks then consume far more funding than the original cuts saved. This reveals something fundamental about how healthcare systems function. Canada’s universal healthcare model rests on an implicit social contract: individuals accept evidence-based prevention, and the system provides care when prevention fails. Misinformation breaks that contract. An unvaccinated patient occupying an ICU bed with preventable disease displaces care for heart-attack victims, trauma patients, or people awaiting surgery. The burden extends beyond money to system-wide constraints: staff burnout, delayed procedures, and overcrowded emergency rooms. Misinformation does not merely waste resources; it degrades the basic capacity of healthcare systems to function.

The biological and economic costs of misinformation ultimately converge in a third dimension: the breakdown of collective capacity to respond to shared threats. As a member of the Canadian Armed Forces Reserves, I have been trained to recognize that mission success depends on accurate intelligence. When field units receive false information about enemy positions or terrain conditions, operations fail, and soldiers die. Public health operates under the same constraint.

Populations cannot mount effective responses to disease outbreaks if they cannot agree on how diseases spread or whether medical interventions work. This is not merely a problem of political disagreement. It represents a fundamental breakdown in the social infrastructure required for coordinated action during crises.

The erosion is measurable. Research by Obohwemu et al. found that lack of confidence, complacency, constraints, calculation, and collective responsibility have all been highlighted as barriers to vaccination uptake among parents to different degrees (Obohwemu et al., 2022). The effect persisted months after exposure, suggesting that misinformation creates lasting changes in trust rather than temporary confusion.

A 2021 study by Loomba et al. published in Nature examined the impact of misinformation on COVID-19 vaccine acceptance across 5,000 participants in the United Kingdom. Participants exposed to anti-vaccine misinformation showed a 6.2 percentage point decrease in willingness to receive a COVID-19 vaccine, and exposure to misinformation emphasizing vaccine side effects reduced stated vaccine acceptance by 6.4 percentage points (Loomba et al., 2021). The effects were largest among individuals who were initially unsure about vaccination, demonstrating how misinformation specifically targets and exploits uncertainty.

The consequences extend beyond immediate health decisions. During February 2022, protests opposing COVID-19 vaccine mandates blocked downtown Ottawa for three weeks, disrupted international trade at border crossings, and required the invocation of the Emergencies Act for the first time since its creation in 1988 (Government of Canada, 2022). The protesters' core belief, that vaccine requirements represented government overreach rather than public health necessity, had been cultivated by years of online misinformation about vaccine safety and efficacy.

Regardless of one's position on specific policy choices, the event demonstrated a critical failure: a substantial portion of the population had become unreachable by conventional public health communication. They were not evaluating evidence about transmission dynamics or hospital capacity. They were operating within a constructed narrative where vaccination itself was the threat. This matters because complex modern societies require institutional trust to function. Climate adaptation, pandemic preparedness, food safety regulation, and infrastructure maintenance all depend on public willingness to defer to technical expertise on questions beyond individual competence. When misinformation convinces populations that expert consensus is either fraudulent or politically motivated, that deference collapses. The immediate result may be preventable deaths during a pandemic. The long-term result is a society that has lost the ability to protect itself from foreseeable dangers.

Misinformation does not merely kill people in the present. It disables the mechanisms societies need to prevent future deaths.

My grandmother eventually got her COVID-19 vaccination, but it took weeks of persuasion and countless conversations before she trusted the science over what she had read online. Millions of others never made it to that point. The 234,000 preventable deaths in the United States, the return of measles in Canada after 27 years of elimination, the billions spent treating diseases we already knew how to prevent—these numbers tell a straightforward story about what happens when people cannot tell truth from fiction. Misinformation kills people, drains resources that could save other lives, and breaks down our ability to respond when the next crisis arrives. But the same networks that carry lies can also carry truth when people know how to recognize the difference.

The answer is not censorship. It is teaching people how to think critically about health information, the same way we teach them to read or do algebra. My generation has grown up watching misinformation kill people we know. We understand how it spreads because we have seen it happen in real time. That experience can become our greatest defense if we treat scientific literacy as essential to navigating modern life safely. The cost of misinformation shows up in obituaries and hospital bills. The value of a scientifically literate society shows up in the deaths that never happen and the crises we prevent before they spiral.

My grandmother is alive today because accurate information eventually reached her through the noise. How many others could we save if we made sure it reached them first?

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About the Author

Jason Wang is a Grade 12 Senior student at St. Peter’s Catholic Secondary School in Peterborough, Ontario. He currently works as a lifeguard, swim instructor, piano teacher and recently, an Army reservist. He wishes to pursue a career in medicine and neuroscience/neurosurgery in the future. He is also the creator of “The Axonora Initiative,” a recent YouTube channel focusing on tackling misinformation.”

Connect with Jason on personal Instagram: @jimjamwong08 or through The Axonora Initiative @axonorainitiative

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References

• Amin, K., Ortaliza, J., Cox, C., Michaud, J., & Kates, J. (2022, April 21). COVID-19 preventable mortality. KFF. https://www.kff.org/covid-19/covid-19-continues-to-be-a-leading-cause-of-death-in-the-u-s/

• Antoneshyn, A. (2025, October 23). Free vaccines cheaper than consequences of low vaccination rate: Alberta Medical Association. CTVNews. https://www.ctvnews.ca/edmonton/article/free-vaccines-cheaper-than-consequences-of-low-vaccination-rate-alberta-medical-association/

• Average cost for COVID-19 ICU patients estimated at more than $50,000: report. (2021, September 9). CBC News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/health/cihi-covid19-canada-hospitalcost-1.6168531

• Fuss, J., & Hill, T. (2023, June 27). Fiscal waste during the pandemic in Canada and the United States. Fraser Institute. https://www.fraserinstitute.org/studies/fiscal-waste-during-pandemic-canada-and-united-states

• Government of Canada. (2022, February 18). February 14, 2022, declaration of public order emergency. Justice.Gc.Ca. https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/csj-sjc/section58.html

• Hyle, E. P., Fields, N. F., Fiebelkorn, A. P., Walker, A. T., Gastañaduy, P., Rao, S. R., Ryan, E. T., LaRocque, R. C., & Walensky, R. P. (2019). The clinical impact and cost-effectiveness of measles-mumps-rubella vaccination to prevent measles importations among international travelers from the United States. Clinical Infectious Diseases, 69(2), 306–315. https://doi.org/10.1093/cid/ciy861

• Jacobsen, K. H. (2025). Canada loses its official “measles-free” status. Gavi.org. https://www.gavi.org/vaccineswork/canada-loses-its-official-measles-free-status

• Johnson, A. G., Amin, A. B., Ali, A. R., Hoots, B., Cadwell, B. L., Arora, S., Avoundjian, T., Awofeso, A. O., Barnes, J., Bayoumi, N. S., Busen, K., Chang, C., Cima, M., Crockett, M., Cronquist, A., Davidson, S., Davis, E., Delgadillo, J., Dorabawila, V., … Scobie, H.M. (2022). COVID-19 incidence and death rates among unvaccinated and fully vaccinated adults with and without booster doses during periods of Delta and Omicron variant emergence—25 U.S. jurisdictions, April 4–December 25, 2021. MMWR. Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, 71(4), 132–138. https://doi.org/10.15585/mmwr.mm7104e2

• Loomba, S., de Figueiredo, A., Piatek, S. J., de Graaf, K., & Larson, H. J. (2021). Measuring the impact of COVID-19 vaccine misinformation on vaccination intent in the UK and USA. Nature Human Behaviour, 5(3), 337–348. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-021-01056-1

• Obohwemu, K., Christie-de Jong, F., & Ling, J. (2022). Parental childhood vaccine hesitancy and predicting uptake of vaccinations: A systematic review. Primary Health Care Research & Development, 23, e68. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1463423622000512

• Osman, S., Crowcroft, N., McLachlan, E., Hatchette, T., Perez-Iratxeta, C., Joh, E., Wright, J., Halperin, S. A., Deeks, S., Wilson, S., Buchan, S., Ward, B., Gubbay, J., Brisson, M., Serhir, B., Severini, A., & Bolotin, S. (2022). Population immunity to measles in Canada using Canadian Health Measures survey data—A Canadian Immunization Research Network (CIRN) study. Vaccine, 40(23), 3228–3235. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.vaccine.2022.04.011

• Schneider, E. C., Shah, A., Sah, P., Vilches, T., Pandey, A., Moghadas, S. M., & Galvani, A. P (2022, April 8). Impact of U.S. COVID-19 vaccination efforts: An update on averted deaths, hospitalizations, and health care costs through March 2022. Commonwealth Fund. https://www.commonwealthfund.org/blog/2022/impact-us-covid-19-vaccinationeffortsmarch-update

• Soucheray, S. M. A. (2025, November 10). Canada loses measles elimination status after record year of outbreaks. CIDRAP. https://www.cidrap.umn.edu/measles/canada-loses-measles-elimination-status-after-record-year-outbreaks

• Watson, O. J., Barnsley, G., Toor, J., Hogan, A. B., Winskill, P., & Ghani, A. C. (2022). Global impact of the first year of COVID-19 vaccination: A mathematical modelling study. The Lancet Infectious Diseases, 22(9), 1293–1302. https://doi.org/10.1016/S1473-3099(22)00320-6

• Zucker, J. R., Rosen, J. B., Iwamoto, M., Arciuolo, R. J., Langdon-Embry, M., Vora, N. M., Rakeman, J. L., Isaac, B. M., Jean, A., Asfaw, M., Hawkins, S. C., Merrill, T. G., Kennelly, M. O., Maldin Morgenthau, B., Daskalakis, D. C., & Barbot, O. (2020). Consequences of undervaccination—measles outbreak, New York City, 2018–2019. The New England Journal of Medicine, 382(11), 1009–1017.https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJMoa1912514