‘A different Christmas’ amid virus
Subdued holiday finds loved ones connecting online as statewide cases and deaths surge
Christmas Day in the Bay Area has never looked like this.
A ir por t s a n d mo s t churches were eerily empty, while iPads roamed the halls of crowded hospital wards to connect distant families with loved ones fighting the deadly coronavirus. A carillon rang out in downtown San Jose as the homeless picked up gift baskets, and a double rainbow brightened the sky in San Francisco where a mysterious gingerbread monolith rose overnight atop a scenic hilltop park.
But all over, to stay safe from the pandemic, people spent the Christmas of 2020 alone.
“What can you say? You know, it sucks,” said Danielle Hartzell, 46, one of millions of Bay Area residents — whether
directly impacted by COVID-19 or not — mustering through a completely different Christmas this year.
Ever since graduating from college, the Berkeley woman has flown home to Ohio to hang out with her sisters, niece and nephew, wrapping presents late into the night and digging into the spaghetti-and-meatballs recipe passed down from her Sicilian grandparents.
She held out hope until the last minute, buying a plane ticket in August and mulling over the decision for weeks with her family. But like so many Americans longing to be together, they all concluded it was a terrible idea — leaving Hartzell alone in her one-bedroom apartment for the first time in almost 25 years, making the rounds on FaceTime and
whipping up a pecan pie in an attempt to feel festive.
“At this point, I really hope that those of us who chose to stay home for the greater good — that it makes a difference,” she said. “I don’t know that it will, to be honest.”
The pandemic in California has fallen to its darkest point yet. In the past six weeks alone, statewide infections exploded from 1 million to 2 million cases, according to data compiled by this news organization, while almost 6,000 more people perished from the virus, marking a total of nearly 24,000 deaths going into the new year.
Statewide, there were 19,771 people hospitalized with the virus as of Wednesday, according to the California Department of Public Health. Southern California and San Joaquin Valley have 0% intensive care unit bed capacity, while the Bay Area’s capacity is down to 9.8%
from 13.5% at the start of the week.
Despite those overwhelming circumstances, the nurses and doctors and hospital staff were among those looking for creative ways to celebrate. Normally this time of year, the Kaiser Permanente San Jose hospital would be swarming with Christmas carolers, family visitors and room decorations to keep patients’ spirits up, said Shanthi Margoschis, chief nursing executive.
But with the pandemic forcing much of that away, the Christmas Day crew were instead handing out holiday onesies for new babies, making individualized cards for every patient and arranging FaceTimes with families. ICU patients got baggies of puzzles, light-up pens and miniature Christmas trees; even if they were too sick to enjoy them now, Margoschis said, the bits of cheer will be waiting for them.
“It’s a different Christmas,” Margoschis said.
Patients separated from their loved ones — especially on the holidays — has proved to be one of the most painful aspects of the pandemic, said Dr. Sang Lee, who works at San Jose’s Regional Medical Center. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, he’s responsible for deciding whether extremely sick COVID-19 patients should be placed on a heart-lung machine.
Early on, doctors and nurses used their own cellphones to connect families and patients who were too ill to respond. Now the hospital has iPads set up on rolling stations in front of beds, which were in full use Christmas Day.
“I really believe that there’s a presence of loved ones felt by patients who are even steeply sedated,” Lee said. Not having that physical connection, he said, is “always hard. When we deal
with loved ones, whether it’s the holidays, maybe it’s a little more accentuated, but it’s always hard.”
Still, glimmers of whimsy still broke through elsewhere in the Bay Area. The nonprofit Glide in San Francisco kept up its tradition of serving prime rib to hungry folks — sans volunteers to minimize the risk of infection — while its annual toy drive actually reached more families than last year with individualized bags. And atop the city’s Corona Heights Park, a mystery baker left an 8-foottall gingerbread monolith on Christmas morning, prompting onlookers to judge its architectural integrity, sometimes stealing a taste.
“It’s real,” said one passerby, licking frosting off his finger. Then, noticing children around, he added, “But it tastes horrible.”
Of course, to the chagrin of public health offi
cials, some people’s Christmases won’t look much different at all this year. In San Jose, Calvary Chapel in the city’s Willow Glen neighborhood went ahead with its usual indoor service on Christmas Eve. And others chose to travel, albeit fewer than usual: San Jose International Airport’s passenger traffic is down about 80% compared to last year, a spokesperson said, while San Francisco International has reported similar numbers, meaning that thousands are still making their way in and out of the state.
Those who stuck it out at home or riding out the day in the hospital hope that others will heed scientists as they beg for social distancing.
“That’s the best Christmas gift,” Margoschis said, “anybody can give this season.”