Donna Sybert

I knew the situation was serious when my son refused to come to our Middlesex Township home to load up on homemade lasagna, chili, salad and banana bread.

A senior orthopedic resident at Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh, he shared with me that he was scavenging meals — a banana from the doctors lounge, a couple of granola bars from a cafeteria food cart.

I figured it was my motherly duty to stuff his fridge with love.

But I learned that while the coronavirus might be endangering his health at work, he was not going to risk visiting his mom and dad — even for the package of comfort food we’d hope to shove inside his Jeep. Nor was he planning to put anyone else at risk by shopping for groceries at a crowded store.

Mike is not one to shy away from risk. For fun, he careens off mountains on his snowboard and loves nothing better than to step into the ring as an elite martial artist matching his skills through the years with national champions, Olympic hopefuls, and even a former Steeler or two training with his grand master.

He also is not a germophoebe. His office is an inner-city hospital and operating rooms. He knows the risk of contagious blood-borne pathogens, as well as respiratory diseases.

But on a video chat last weekend, he cautioned us — his parents and sister, who is sheltering in place in Philadelphia from COVID-19 — that the worst could be coming. Not a time to be making big life decisions. Be prepared for a long wait. He advised his sister to order more groceries and have them delivered.

Our daughter Jeanna is studying to be a different kind of doctor, so I thought she’d be more philosophical about a global pandemic.

But the graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania momentarily put away thinking deep thoughts on politics, the media and visual culture, and became expert on grocery decontamination. She coached her dad by phone after his recent shopping trip, even providing an instructional video.

They are worried for our health. We are terrified for theirs. But everyone has their life to live, job to do and meals to make.

Mike keeps telling me he’s a bone doctor, but I know you can have a broken bone and COVID-19. Jeanna keeps telling me that she’s staying in her apartment, but I know you can’t stay inside forever and the city is full of people, many who lack basic necessities let alone personal protective gear.

But we adapt.

Mike has found a store that will deliver groceries to the door, calls or texts home more often and is trying to adjust to life without all the wonderful friends and co-workers he usually gathers with during his few off hours.

Jeanna is learning to cook. The child who wanted to be in the kitchen only if she was grabbing a snack out of the fridge is now figuring out how to plan and buy ingredients for more complicated menus, making that food stretch and the joys of serving up plates of steaming, cheesy lasagna.

And while I can’t stuff their faces with family favorites, I can still offer up all my love — and a little culinary advice.

Donna Sybert, a longtime resident of Butler County, is associate managing editor of the Butler Eagle.