Making A Critical Decision Amid A National Emergency - Part 1

One afternoon in February 2020, I sat on the couch in the living room of my apartment in Uptown Manhattan. I propped open my 13-inch MacBook and logged onto Facebook. I saw my feed was filled with posts about Li Wenliang, the Chinese doctor who discovered the coronavirus and tried to warn others about the outbreak but died after catching the virus from a patient.

I was shocked when I read the news. It seemed strange. It didn't make any sense to me how a doctor died after reporting the severity of a contagious disease. But I didn't think much of it. A couple of days passed. This time I tapped onto the Instagram app on my phone and began scrolling through the posts. Several of the news outlets I was following reported that New York has had its first case of the coronavirus. What could that mean? A few more days passed by. A number of tweets accrued on the lock screen of my phone. Several of them were about how numerous cases of the coronavirus were rapidly surging in the US. This is concerning. Why is this happening?

Around early March, I received an email from the journalism department at Columbia University that all lectures, programs and any in-person activities have been cancelled. We were told to keep a six-feet distance and mask our face. I looked at my laptop screen in dismay. My breathing turned ragged. My eyebrows formed a line. What is going on?

I had a flight scheduled to San Jose, California for spring break. My family was expecting me home. Should I go? Should I stay in New York? What should I do? I called my parents. Both my mom and brother advised me to stay in New York. But my dad told me to come home. That didn't help. I felt even more indecisive. Why couldn't they all be on the same page?

My flight was on March 14. For several hours, I mulled over my decision. Should I go? Should I not go? What should I do? I opened up the JetBlue app on my phone. I scrolled through and after several minutes, I found what I was looking for. In yellow letters it read "flight cancellation." I clicked on that and went through all the steps. I made it to the last screen, took a deep breath and hit submit. The screen read, "Thank you for submitting your cancellation request. It will take up to 7-10 business days for your request to process." I guess I wasn't going back to California.

I texted my family on our group chat and told them, "I submitted my cancellation form for my flight." My dad replied, "No problem. Take care of yourself. See you soon when the the virus is over iA (inshallah). Disappointed but wish you the very best." Then I replied, "Will do! You all too! Yes, inshallah. I'll come over when the virus is over." I slumped back in my bed. But reading the last part of my dad's text brought back the hollowness in the pit of my stomach. The silence in my room didn't help. My chest felt heavy. For several minutes, I just sat in my bed staring at nothing. My dad rarely ever asked me of anything and I couldn't even do this much for him? What kind of a daughter am I? I didn't want to disappoint him.

I saw "Mommy" flashing on my phone and I picked up the call. My mom and I spoke for a little bit. She told me that she wanted to me to come home but it would be best if I stayed behind. But then she said "See, this is kismet. Everything is ready but despite that, you can't come. Nothing is in your control." When we ended the call, my mom's words rang in my ear. It was 2 p.m. My flight was around 5:30 p.m. Because my cancellation request would take time to process, my boarding pass was still valid. That means I could go to California after all. I told my roommate that I'm heading to the airport. She gave me a small smile. I picked up my handcarry, tossed my phone, keys, and mask into my purse, grabbed my jacket and headed out the door.