37
ESSAY
LIKE MANY OTHERS, I’ve spent weeks stressing over
which supplies to stock up on, how we’ll manage if
we’re asked to shelter in place, what to tell my kids.
But the most gut-wrenching decision I’ve faced, by
far, is whether to travel across the country to see
my sick and immuno compromised mom, potentially
exposing her to a virus from which she might not
recover.
Months after my dad’s death in 2018, my mom
was diagnosed with cancer. She was in remission for
a short time, but then it came roaring back, Stage IV.
For months, we’ve gotten nothing but terrible news—
the cancer is everywhere; it’s not responding well to
chemotherapy—but at least, I’ve been able to tell
myself, we can see each other.
Then came COVID-19. When I first spoke to my
doctor, she said I’d probably be fine to travel, despite
my asthma. But now community transmission has
begun, and every day brings what feels like a month’s
worth of bad news.
My mom lives in a town of about 5,000 people,
hours from the closest major outbreak, and she
doesn’t go out much. She is in a “stable period,”
according to her care team. If I go to see her, carrying
germs—no matter how careful I try to be, how many
times I wash my hands—I might be the one to
compromise her fragile, hard-won stability. How do
you weigh such an enormous health risk, one that
isn’t solely or even primarily your own?
If my mother didn’t have a terminal diagnosis,
I wouldn’t even consider traveling; I know staying
home will help suppress the spread of the virus,
while traveling could endanger the health of others.
But I don’t know how many more chances I’ll have
to see my mom, and no one knows how long the
pandemic will last. My kids ask every day if we’re
going to visit Grandma soon, and all I can tell them is,
“I hope so.”
It seems we’re all afraid in this moment; it’s hard
not to be. I’m afraid of so many things, especially
the suffering of people I love and a world without
my mom. Even after my father died, I assumed my
mother would live to see my hair turn gray, my kids
grow up. It’s devastating to know that I will lose her
far earlier than I ever imagined. And now it feels as
though my need to see her is in direct conflict with my
wish for her to stay comfortable, stay alive for as long
as possible.
Of all the drastic changes the new coronavirus
has wrought, this is the hardest for me to accept.
Chung is the author of the memoir All You Can Ever
Know
A FAMILY’S
IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE
IS IT ETHICAL
TO ORDER
TAKEOUT?
KEY QUESTIONS
Q
:
A: In a time of
lockdowns and
quarantines, even
when we’re trying
to behave well, there are many
moral conundrums that present
themselves. TIME spoke to Arthur
Caplan, director of the Division
of Medical Ethics at New York
University’s Grossman School of
Medicine, about one prominent
moral dilemma associated with
the coronavirus.
If I’m a young, healthy person and
my city has not shut down entirely
yet, should I stay in as part of
social distancing or should I go out,
support local businesses and tip
well at restaurants?
You should stay in. If you want
restaurant food, order out and tip
generously that way. You should
not be sitting in groups in public
places. Remember, even if you’re
young and healthy, you’re still at risk
of turning into a disease vector who
could infect others. Merely getting to
the restaurant may have required a
bus or an Uber, which could expose
you to the virus. The businesses
can take the two- or three-week
shutdown better than Grandma can
take the virus.
But isn’t ordering takeout unethical
too? After all, I’m contributing to
the delivery person’s being exposed
to me and to others.
I think you can still order; just have
the delivery person leave the food at
the door and go. That’s the protocol
now. Don’t exchange paper money;
don’t have any physical contact.
This is one reason it’s good to
order online and have everything
paid by credit card or otherwise
electronically.
—Jeffrey Kluger
BY NICOLE CHUNG
JUDITH HAEUSLER—GETTY IMAGES; ILLUSTRATION BY BROWN BIRD DESIGN FOR TIME
