Why I’m Not Going Home

Friends, I’m sad.  I will not go home to Colorado next month.  The family went already last month; it was a glorious 15 hour road trip each way from Chicago, with 7 amazing days in the mountains, my favorite place on earth.  Because we had planned to be abroad that week, back in January we made plane reservations for a five day trip to my home state in August.  And now I will cancel.

Cancelling a trip home is a big deal for me.  But I cannot ignore the glaring imbalance of risk and benefit here.  It’s a personal, emotional decision, but not without reason. 


First, I agree that flying during this pandemic can be safe. It depends critically on everybody doing their part, namely masking up and staying on the ground if we feel sick or have a recent known exposure. I do not trust everybody to do their part. I don’t know who will lie on a symptom checklist or suppress a fever with medication in order to fly while ill. I don’t know who will pull their mask off right next to me for the duration of the flight. Sure, the airline can ban them from flying after we land, but I still have to sit next to them for three hours, wondering about their infection status, fuming at their apparent disregard for my safety and that of everybody on the plane.

Shock and Awe

Second, I have never seen a disease like this. The spectrum of illness spans from totally asymptomatic to 100 days in hospital, intubated and proned, on ECMO (heart-lung bypass) and dialysis, limb(s) amputated, before finally dying. Every organ system can be affected, including the brain. COVID patients in the ICU require sedation and paralytics to control agitation, psychosis and flailing. Some suffer catastrophic strokes. Upon discharge, if they survive, months of rehab still don’t guarantee any return to normal. It’s been only six months since the disease emerged; we have no idea what long term consequences or complications lie down the road for these patients, no matter what their illness course.

Statistically, my family and I have a low risk for complications and death if we are infected.  We are young and healthy.  Populationally, the old and infirm have the highest mortality risk.  This is also true for flu.  And, healthy young people die every day from COVID, just like they do during flu season.  And death is not the only horrible thing that happens to COVID patients.  Symptoms can last weeks to months, including cough, shortness of breath, profound fatigue, diarrhea, and mental slowness.  There is no way to predict 1) who will get infected or 2) what their disease course will be.  It could be anything, and there is no good or reliable way to affect the outcome.  You could be totally fine or suffer long and hard before dying.  And the mental and emotional tolls of suffering in isolation, for the patient as well as their loved ones, are the ultimate insult added to injury.

I have profound respect for this virus and this disease.


Third, it’s a five day vacation.  We were just there a month ago.  This is not essential travel.  My kids are my life.  If one or, God forbid both, of them got sick, or if my husband and/or I got sick and died, or if I infected my patients—if anyone, family or not, ended up suffering because I decided to take this trip—my soul could never rest.

In the end one question always helps me:  Of the worst case scenarios at the end of each path at this fork, which would I regret more?  I will be sad to not go home this time, yes.  But I don’t know how I could take the responsibility of getting someone infected because I wanted to take a five day vacation and made us all get on a plane in the middle of a wildly uncontrolled pandemic.  There is no question here.

The sadness is real, though.  And it’s not just about the trip. It’s about life turned upside down, everything we took for granted—our safety and security—threatened.  It’s about the immense uncertainty, the suffering all around us, the lashing out and fighting from stress and tension, the chaos.  How will we know what do to about school?  When will life be the f*ck normal again?


All of that said, there is still a very bright side.

This is temporary.  Life will likely not ever go back to what it was, but it will feel normal again, someday.  It will take some years, all things considered.  In the meantime, we are fully in control of our mindset and response in this moment.

Mindfulness’ has become a trendy buzz word, almost cheapened such that I hate to even write or say it.  But the evidence is all but irrefutable for its benefits, especially in times like these.  The practice is essentially to be with what is, right now, including how you feel about it, with acceptance and nonjudgment.  So much easier said than done!  And yet, in truly mindful moments, peace and clarity ultimately descend (or transcend, I should say).  To look around at the chaos and suffering, and accept it as just the way things are, is the first step to managing it all.  Living fully in the present moment allows us to distinguish clearly what we can control from what we can’t.  We can claim and exercise agency over the former, and let go the latter, thereby suffering less and maximizing energy and resources to effect positive change for ourselves and others. 

To really free ourselves from the anxiety and uncertainty of the present moment, to know what to do today, while we attend to the now, we must paradoxically also cast ourselves into the future.  We must take the long, infinite view.  What really matters today?  What from today will really matter next year, and in five, ten, or fifty years?  Will the disruption of remote learning for my privileged kids this year really make a difference when they are my age?  Likely not.  Will missing essential nutrition and social contacts, and parents’ unemployment this year, for kids in marginalized communities, matter later?  Absolutely.  Many of us will be okay no matter what.  Many more of us will not.  The disparities we see today cast long shadows into the future, and we must attend to them in current policy and guideline decisions. 

We are all in this together, and what we each do affects everybody. This fact is inescapable. There will be more suffering and death, no matter what we do. Somehow we each must make our own peace with the risks, find freedom and joy, and exercise empathy and social responsibility, in the face of it all.

In this crisis we are called to be our best selves for one another.  That ultimately includes individual, short term sacrifices for the greater good.  I can give up my little vacation to help keep everybody healthy.  I wash my hands like I have OCD.  I keep my distance around people I don’t live with.  And I wear. my. mask.  I protect you, you protect me.  Let’s all do our part, shall we? 

10 thoughts on “Why I’m Not Going Home

  1. Thanks for sharing your reasoning and your wise–though painful–decision, Cathy. I have such trouble understanding why so many people lack the good judgment and common sense, or perhaps the caring, to make decisions that are good for them, their families, and the larger community. When did we abandon our ability to reason? And where will this lead us…?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Donna. *sigh* I’m really trying to withhold judgment except for the most egregious, overtly malicious behaviors… Everything is so intense right now, and it just makes it SO clear that we humans are emotional decision makers, with the capacity for some logic/reason. So the more we can relate emotionally, I think, the more we can connect intellectually and rationally. But complex, coincident, multi-layered crises like the ones we are living through now, make that all exponentially harder. 😦

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Excellent explanation Cathy. It’s so hard…our son Matthew and his family wanted to visit us this month and we had to say no. They live outside Dallas.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Barbara! It IS so hard, especially if people you love have a different opinion/comfort level with the risks. 😦 I think in the end what will get us through is unconditional love…and even with family that can be so hard sometimes. Big hugs to you and Jim, and your whole family!!


  3. So many sacrifices have made over the past 4 months, and certainly there is no indication it will be residing in the next four. Hopefully you will be able to return home in due time and it will be more special than ever.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Lovely post. When I see people on Facebook and Instagram out living their lives, I wonder if I’m being too cautious. But then I see the facts and hear from thoughtful people (like you) and remember that this situation is deadly serious. I’m so conflicted about what to do with my kindergartener for school this year…while also realizing that I barely remember anything from when I was 5. This will (hopefully) be a blip in time and missing out now won’t be the worst thing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for your comment, love2read365 (how should I address you?)! Nothing about this crisis is easy or simple, by a longshot. It makes me sad that in the US we cannot pull together, make the necessary collective sacrifices, and control infections like so many of our peer countries have done. It’s so upsetting. 140,000 people have died of COVID-19 in the United States since March. Someone pointed out recently that to kill 140,000 people in four months by plane crashes, 50 flights would have to crash per week, every week, killing everyone on board, for four months. That’s seven plane crashes per day, with an extra one every Sunday, for for 122 days. During the H1N1 pandemic, universal masking and vigilant hand washing were shown to prevent transmission within households: https://www.acpjournals.org/doi/10.7326/0003-4819-151-7-200910060-00142
      We can open the economy safely. Each of us just has to do our part. I hope you and your family will find solutions that you can make peace with. And I wish your community solidarity and mutual respect and caring.

      Liked by 1 person

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