How three generations of family fought virus

As the coronavirus began to spread in New York in mid-March, I retreated to work from home, a three-bedroom apartment I share with my wife, two children and in-laws who are here to help us take care of the kids. Having fed ourselves on news about China's hard-won war with the virus, we were determined to keep the invisible enemy at bay.

So I fortified my home with a plenitude of medical alcohol, hand-sanitizing liquid and masks, including some N95s. I also began to order everything, including food and baby diapers, from the internet. We wanted to be so well-prepared, with the goal of being the last persons to be knocked down by the virus.

But on April 11, around 20 days after Governor Andrew Cuomo announced "New York on Pause" from March 22, the virus somehow had broken into our house.

My mother-in-law, who never stepped out of the door of our apartment since we started to shelter in place, was the first victim, showing all symptoms of the novel coronavirus — coughing, fever, fatigue, chills and loss of taste — then my father-in-law, and then me.

How did we get the virus? That is the biggest question for me, though I know there are hundreds of more important questions about the evasive virus boggling the mind of scientists around the world.

I have no choice but to suspect the food packages we ordered online as the culprit, because we had almost zero contact with anybody else over the past three weeks. At the same time, Forest Hills, Queens, where we live, has emerged as the epicenter of New York's raging outbreak, together with a group of adjoining neighborhoods — Corona, Elmhurst, East Elmhurst and Jackson Heights.

Mindful of the fact that senior people are much more vulnerable to the virus, I and my wife, who had to leave our apartment and seek shelter with two kids at an apartment of my colleagues who left for China weeks ago, embarked on a frenetic search for what can and should be done for her parents, both in their 70s.

The first thing that we did was visit Elmhurst Hospital for a coronavirus test. Before we went, I called the New York City coronavirus hotline on April 16 and was told that a test can only be done for those who are suffering severe symptoms like difficulty breathing and therefore have been admitted into the hospital.

Fearing that it would be too late for the folks to wait that long, we went to the outdoor make-shift tent for testing at Elmhurst Hospital, where we found four medical staff members and one woman waiting to be tested. I tried to describe the symptoms, but was interrupted by a medical staffer who asked: "You want a test or not?"

The test was extremely fast, about 10 minutes, including all paperwork, but it took six days to get a result.

Meanwhile, my mother-in-law's condition was deteriorating fast. Unable to wait for the outcome of the test, I took my in-laws to a nearby urgent care center, where a Chinese American doctor told us: It must be coronavirus, and no need to wait for the result.

At the urgent care center, a scan performed on my mother-in-law clearly showed a lung damaged by coronavirus. Medicines were prescribed, and that was three days before we were informed of the test results, which, to no one's surprise, came back positive.

There were anxious days ahead: We found ourselves on the verge of desperation when my mother-in-law's arterial oxygen level turned precariously low.

Thanks to my colleagues, friends and those within the Chinese news media and diplomatic service in New York, who helped with every imaginable thing from recommending doctors and arranging for hospitals, in case an oxygen tube were needed, we were able to keep calm even in the event of the worst-case scenario.

Luckily for us, that scenario never materialized. Now, the dark memories are receding, although not as quickly as we would like.

When you are sick, you become homesick. One night when my father-in-law felt so uncomfortable, he knocked at my door, asking me whether there was any possibility for him to go back to China. I had to patiently talk him out of that impractical idea, but I understand that his angst was shared by many Chinese trapped here, where the pandemic has claimed a record number of lives.

To cheer him up, I joked about renting a private plane, and shared with him information that it might cost as much as 200,000 yuan. I had thought he would give up the notion at that point. However, he peeped into my eyes under the dim light of the living room and said: "Why not?"

As we were recovering from the illness, my worries didn't relent. During my 40-minute walk last week from my home to a pharmacy, I did a simple survey with my own eyes: 43 people walking on the street, alone or with others, weren't wearing masks.

Starting this month, more and more people are going back to work. Is the US ready for reopening, with a daily death toll of around 2,000 and so many refusing to don a mask in public spaces?

What have I gained from my family's coronavirus ordeal? An abundance of love and warmth from my colleagues, the caring from the doctors we have visited or called, especially my family doctor, Dr Zhang. And maybe it made me a better cook after taking care of my in-laws for weeks. But I doubt it, because recipes from a Baidu search can easily be forgotten.

What have I lost? I haven't seen my son and daughter for nearly a month. But big hugs and kisses can compensate for that pain of separation.

And then there's the 10 pounds I shed, for which I declare no compensation is needed.