A test of character

It is said that a person’s true character is revealed in times of crisis. If this is true, then it may be disheartening to watch the worst in us emerge as the current coronavirus crisis unfolds.

An irrational run on toilet paper has resulted in fist fights as the have-nots try to strongarm a six-pack of Cottonelle from the overstocked cart of another shopper. Grocery store shelves are stripped bare of staples like eggs, cheese, milk, pasta and fresh produce. This hoarding mentality belies an even darker aspect of the human psyche; that sharing, equity and courtesy are abandoned in times of crisis. Cynically I feel as though the rift between classes has widened as those with the financial ability monopolize resources leaving the less affluent, the elderly and infirmed to fend for themselves.

I watched with embarrassment as reporters in Florida and Texas walked up and down beaches packed with college students on spring break. It was clear that students understood a crisis was happening, but the notion that their demographic was less likely to succumb to COVID-19 made social distancing a quaint suggestion for older generations.

“At the end of the day, if I get coronoa, I get corona” reported one student, then adding “I’m not going to let it stop me from partying.” Lost on them was the fact that they could asymptomatically carry the virus and infect vulnerable populations, and that social responsibility applied to everyone regardless of age, gender or ethnic background.

Instances of xenophobia and hate crimes have risen dramatically in the past few weeks. People of Asian descent have been beaten, verbally assaulted and even sprayed with Febreze on a New York City subway. Contributing to the notion that a naturally occurring pathogen could be blamed on a group of people based solely on geography, U.S. President Donald Trump continues to refer to COVID-19 as the “China Virus.”

Anthropomorphizing an infectious disease and creating ethnic or cultural scapegoats is instinctual; Jews were widely blamed for the Black Plague, the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 was in part a response to the popular notion that Asian immigrants disproportionately carried cholera and smallpox, and members of the gay community were blamed for the AIDS epidemic in 1980s.

And although the exact origin of the world’s last major influenza pandemic in 1918 remains unknown, it was almost certainly not Spain. Still, the disease was coined the Spanish Flu by newspapers in Europe; a stigma that remains a hundred years later.

COVID-19 is an emerging virus which means it recently entered the human population from another animal host. As such, less is known about the virus than, say, influenza, and treatments and vaccines are months from production. Much has been learned about COVID-19 in the past several months, but much is still unknown. Fear about the unknowns (especially the Rumsfeldian unknown unknowns) is invoking a range of negative human emotions; fear, anger, bigotry, confusion, depression and blame shifting are left unchecked.

Coupled with the lack of human contact that most of us are experiencing because of social distancing and sheltering in place, and the world seems to be a very bleak place indeed.

But there is a sock to this buskin — another face to the human reaction to the crisis that is unfolding. It is the face of humanity, of empathy, of selflessness and overt acts of kindness. For some people, this crisis has tested them, and their true characters emerge serving as beacons of hope for the rest of us.

I am reminded today of selfless and compassionate behaviour personified during another crisis. Fifteen years ago, my kid sister was fighting for her life. Type 1 diabetes she developed as a child had systematically damaged her body; one by one her organs and organ systems were ravaged by complications of the disease. Although she would have been a fantastic mother, she was unable to keep a pregnancy. Miscarriages had resulted in diabetic retinopathy which was impairing her vision. Her kidneys had failed and following a kidney transplant and eventually a pancreatic transplant, she wrestled with graft versus host disease — an extremely rare condition in which the donor’s organs rejected their host.

I have vivid and specific memories of the difficult time that followed. She was in an isolation ward as we waited for a bone marrow transplant. Unless you have witnessed it, it is difficult to describe how utterly helpless her condition had left her. Hooked up to a dozen machines with an impossible number of tubes leading into her body, heavily sedated and stripped of all personal dignity, the strongest among us would easily and perhaps rightfully give into the totality of our circumstances. In hindsight, the outcome was ineluctable, but never articulated by the family and friends that surrounded her.

This was the greatest test of my sister’s life; likely the greatest test of anyone’s life. Faced with our own mortality, how would we respond? My sister — my five foot, naught, 100-pound little sister — faced her own mortality with bravery, dignity and a relentlessly combative sprit. Her acts of bravery and compassion while struggling with an eventually fatal complication left a lifelong impact on me, and all of those people lucky enough to interact with her in those final days, weeks and months.

Selflessness. Noun. “Concerned more with the needs and wishes of others than with one’s own.”

That’s the dictionary definition. We’ve all seen random acts of this; holding a door open for someone at Starbucks. Putting a few dollars in the tip jar. Asking a coworker how they’re doing — and meaning it. These smalls acts mean something. It’s not the size of the act; it’s that you performed it.

As I was waiting in the hallway outside my sister’s room one afternoon, I was approached by an elderly woman. I recognized her as a member of the maintenance staff; one of those countless, nameless indispensable people who go about their jobs without recognition. In broken English (this was in Montreal, and English was likely her third language, at least) and with tears in her eyes, she explained to me that every time she came in the room to empty the trash, my sister looked her in the eye, engaged her in conversation and asked how her day was going. As sick as she was, she genuinely wanted to know how someone else was doing.

Later, the physician in charge of her care stopped me in the hall. He had been on vacation for a week, and my sister and her case were on his mind the entire time. He rushed to the hospital after getting back from vacation eager to get caught up on the changes to her condition. Jen insisted that before she answered any questions that he answered her questions about his vacation.

My sister wasn’t offering empty platitudes or meaningless pleasantries. My sister made these people feel as though they were the most important people in the room.

Jennifer’s transplant surgeon delivered a eulogy at her funeral. In it, he spoke of her bravery and her humour and her eventual ability to accept what she could not control. But more than that, he spoke of the fine line physicians walk between keeping an objective distance from patients and getting to know a patient personally to avoid dehumanizing them. Jen, he explained, was unconcerned about that line — she forced her physicians to engage with her.

She was constantly pushing the boundaries of what was possible and always insisting that doctors challenge the status quo.

I vividly recall a moment when three or four doctors were around her bed discussing her latest test results. Above the din my sister yelled for them to stop. “I’m right here”, she explained, “and I can’t fight this if you don’t tell me how to fight it.”

She may not have realized that the bravery with which she faced her challenges would not have changed the outcome. However, I do know that she challenged doctors and forced changes to how people with diabetes are treated hoping to change the outcome for future patients with her condition. This is the ultimate act of selflessness.

The COVID-19 crisis is testing us all. I hope that I am responding in ways that would make my sister proud, though I always fall short of her example. But I see acts of kindness, generosity, altruism and empathy every day, and I find it inspiring. The internet has been used to organize volunteers who buy and deliver groceries to people who can’t do it themselves. Musicians offer free courtyard concerts for apartment residents who are sheltering in place. Pet adoptions are up 70% in some places, and some shelters are out of dogs and cats that need a home. I read recently about someone who left a $9,000 tip on a $90 tab in a restaurant, explaining that it should be divided up among the staff in the restaurant over the coming weeks.

What is happening right now is historic; it will be something that future social studies students read about in textbooks. We don’t really have a frame of reference for how we should act during this crisis, but I do believe that if we pause, reflect and dig deep that we can find positive reactions to difficult circumstances. Our individual and collective responses can change the face of this crisis and reflect the depth of character that I believe we all possess.