The fight against the coronavirus invokes the language and imagery of war. It’s a battle, with health care workers on the front lines, the wounded dying alone, hospital ships deployed to hot zones and makeshift morgues to store the dead.

But unlike any war we’ve ever fought before, our front lines are filled with mothers. Nearly 90% of registered nurses in America are women. About a third of practicing doctors are women. They, along with their male colleagues, are being treated in ways we could never fathom our government treating soldiers in a war fought with missiles and bombs. 

There still aren’t enough tests, even though the president and vice president promised there would be. There still aren’t enough N95 masks or ventilators, despite weeks of pleading for help. As early as Feb. 5, Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar asked for $2 billion to buy respirator masks and other supplies for a depleted federal stockpile of emergency medical equipment. The White House cut that request by 75%, the Washington Post reported. The coronavirus was spiking in other parts of the world then, but American leaders were still downplaying it and comparing it to the flu, as they continued to do during the most critical weeks that could have been used to contain the damage.

Let’s compare this war, where health care workers are being asked to fight under unconscionable conditions, to how our country responded the last time we were under attack.

The United States has spent more than $2 trillion on its war on terror just through the Department of Defense spending. More people in America have now died of COVID-19 than were killed in the attacks on Sept. 11. The Defense Production Act -- which the New York Times reported has been used hundreds of thousands of times in the Trump years to speed production of chemicals used to construct military missiles, procure materials needed to build drones, and order body armor for border-patrol agents -- was sidelined for too long in a war against a virus now projecting to kill hundreds of thousands of us. Despite the willingness to use the act for military supplies, the president became reluctant to use it to compel production of desperately needed medical supplies.

Why didn’t this war fought in American emergency rooms mobilize the same sense of urgency, the same resources, as the wars fought in Middle Eastern deserts?

Explain that to Dr. Christie Pickrell, an ER doctor at Mercy Hospital in St. Louis and EMS medical director for the Mehlville Fire Department. Her husband is also a physician. They have three children, ages 6, 3 and 1.

Their baby had a fever for five days, and they tried to get him tested for COVID-19. Their pediatrician told them to call the hospital COVID hotline to set up testing, but they were told he didn’t qualify, despite being in a household with two physicians with known exposure. They had to cancel their child care, because they were told to presume their baby is COVID positive. They rearranged their work schedules, but are still expected to go into work.

“None of this makes sense,” Pickrell said. “Right now, because the number of cases in Missouri are grossly underreported, I’m truly scared for the public.”

People don’t realize how many patients they are sending home with symptoms, without testing, and telling them to assume they are positive, she said.

“I’ve never felt so helpless” as a doctor, she said. “I took a Hippocratic oath to take care of people. That’s what I signed up for. But when my son has a fever, what about my own family? Why can’t I take care of them?”

It wasn’t until 2013 that the Secretary of Defense removed the military’s long-standing ban on women serving in combat. In this war against coronavirus, the CDC has said health care workers, some of whom are single mothers with babies at home, can resort to bandanas and scarves if they can’t get the protective equipment they need. Imagine our government telling Marines in a war zone to fashion their own helmets and weapons.

Nevertheless, health care “soldiers” continue to show up. Pickrell, who is 35, said she has offered to take the riskier procedures, like putting patients on ventilators, from her older male colleagues, whose age and gender makes them more vulnerable to complications if they become infected.

In this war, a young mom with sick children at home is protecting the older male doctors in her department by risking her own life.

And our country can’t promise her a clean respirator or a COVID test for her babies.

As I write this, my teenage children begin their first day of distance learning. I’m already yearning for their schools to reopen, even though I’ve accepted that this won’t be happening anytime soon.

Officials shut down schools across the country in attempts to slow the spread of the coronavirus pandemic. This means our children are home all day, every day, while many of us are working and trying to supervise the virtual homeschooling that is supposed to happen.

In my defense, we’ve already spent 11 days socially isolating at home together due to an extended spring break. During those 11 days, the world has been upended in a way I haven’t seen before. I’ve been reading about, talking to and writing about people whose lives and livelihoods hang in a precarious balance.

During the same 11 days, I’ve watched the teens sleep in, binge-watch Netflix and wait to be invited to do basic chores like the dishes, walking the dog or helping with dinner.

I’ve reached the limit of my patience with that approach.

Adolescence in the time of coronavirus is going to mean growing up faster than the previous timetable allowed. I don’t mean to suggest that teenage brains are going to magically mature faster during a pandemic. Nor am I unsympathetic to what young people have lost -- their graduation ceremonies, proms, final sports seasons and performances, the last months with their friends, college visits -- there’s a long list of how this has affected their lives in sad and unfair ways.

But once they’ve had some time to deal with these disappointments, they should also prepare to realize that most family households no longer orbit around their schedules.

The weekdays B.C. (before coronavirus) had a structure: kids out the door by 7:10 a.m.; back home sometime between 3:30 and 5:30 p.m., depending on the after-school activities; dinner around 6:30; up in their rooms for the rest of the evening, mostly doing homework. On some weekdays, the after-school activities demanded more hours, and weekends often involved some kind of tournament or competition or performance.

This is how life operated for many children and teens.

All of that has come to a screeching halt. In response, our expectations for their routines and contributions to family and community life must also change.

Initially, I gave my kids a few talks about rising to the occasion and keeping a sense of perspective of what this national crisis means to millions of people. They listened, but I don’t know that they really got it. Perhaps those lectures have lacked specificity in how I expected their behaviors to change. So, the longer they continued their spring break of doing nothing much, the more aggravated I got.

We had a morning meeting before their first virtual day of high school began. I told them the start times for their school days, household responsibilities to keep track of during the day and expectations of when all devices would be turned in at night. I said they needed to share a daily project outside their schoolwork that contributes to the greater good somehow. I’m not sure how closely or cheerfully this guidance will be followed. But it was helpful to spell out what the new expectations and consequences are.

A week ago, I asked the parents on our high school’s PTO Facebook group if anyone else was dealing with a teenager who didn’t have the best attitude about this yet. The responses reassured me that adjusting to this new normal was going to take a little bit of time. One mom shared a meme that said: “OK, the schools are closed. Does that mean we drop the kids off at the teacher’s house, or what?”

Regardless of how much we appreciated teachers before, multiply that by a hundred now.

The thought of another two months of this prompted me to post a different question on Twitter: “Are any of y’all’s homeschools accepting transfer students?”

Kara Hopper is just one of the millions of Americans terrified about what’s going to happen next.

The coronavirus pandemic threatens millions of Americans’ lives and livelihoods. But her story sheds light on what we should have known all along: Our country’s lack of a safety net for most people had us headed toward disaster.

This pandemic should make us realize that complacency about other people’s welfare can be devastating to our economy.

Consider the Hopper family’s experience:

Hopper, 42, lives in Wentzville, Missouri, with her husband and four children. Both she and her husband worked, saved money and bought a home. They did all the things we tell responsible, hard-working adults to do.

A little more than two years ago, their son, Jasper, then 9, was diagnosed with leukemia.

The Hoppers were lucky to have good insurance coverage. Jasper needed intensive and frequent medical treatment, which meant Hopper had to quit her job to take him to hospitals and doctors.

In the first year, Hopper estimates their additional out-of-pocket expenses were around $20,000, on top of the lost income of $30,000 from having to quit her job. They held fundraisers and posted a plea on GoFundMe to help with escalating medical costs not covered by insurance. It’s not enough to make up the significant gap. They racked up credit card debt.

How many families can absorb a financial blow like that? When you are trying to save your child’s life, you should not also be worried about losing your home. How did we simply accept that this is the way things work in America for so long?

Hopper returned to work in August as a server in a fine-dining restaurant.

“It was enough to keep up from getting further behind but not enough to let us catch up,” she said.

Restaurants are shutting down in an attempt to control the spread of the coronavirus.

“I’m scared of falling further behind,” she said. “More than that, I’m scared of the risk to my immunocompromised child,” she said. And she also feels guilty. “I know a lot of families will be hurt way worse. I have friends with both parents working in hard-hit industries.”

At least Hopper’s husband is still working.

She says that maybe it’s easier for people to ignore and try to forget about those who are most vulnerable because it’s an easier way to deal with fear and anxiety.

”It makes it easier to just keep going on with your life if you can ignore reality and ignore the dark things. ... It’s a coping mechanism that's easier than dealing with what's actually happening,” she said.

Here’s the harsh reality that this pandemic has brought home: We need paid sick leave and health care for everyone in this country.

It seems so obvious now. When people are afraid to seek medical treatment because it could bankrupt them, it’s harder for everyone else to stay healthy when a virus like this hits. When people are forced to go to work when they are sick in order to feed their families, it’s a risk to everyone’s health. How did we allow political leaders to divide us on issues that are completely noncontroversial for any poor, working or middle-class person? Maybe it’s because we mistakenly believed other people’s bad luck or circumstances would never affect our lives.

The severity of this crisis has laid that mistaken belief to rest. Everyone’s economic and physical well-being is interconnected in a society.

“I think we need to get with the civilized world and take care of one another,” Hopper said.

We should have realized that many years ago.

We shouldn’t forget it now.