I returned to Beijing last month from the United States with concerns about the developing coronavirus outbreak. But while being careful, I was determined not to panic. When friends and family expressed deep concern, I tried to reassure them to the best of my ability.

I have lived in China for nearly eight years, and for now, Beijing is home.

These unusual circumstances have created scenarios that I have never seen before. Beijing Capital International Airport, for years the world's second-busiest airport, seemed almost empty. Yet airport officials and workers, wearing masks, were helpful and polite. Even though I am a foreigner, it felt like a nice"welcome home", despite the difficult circumstances.

I usually have a bit of the theme song for the Beijing 2008 Olympics playing in my head when traveling from the airport into downtown: "Beijing huan ying ni," or Beijing welcomes you. This time was no different.

Highways and streets were mostly empty, more so than toward the end of a normal Spring Festival.

Since my arrival, the virus emergency has grown, but actions to combat it also have expanded. As part of this, I was asked to remain in my apartment in self-quarantine, going out only as necessary－to buy groceries, for example－and always with a mask.

Days cooped up in my apartment－a tiny sacrifice compared with what many others are making－have been, nonetheless, challenging. There is a sense of isolation, and even when I went to deliver some requested items to a friend in my apartment building, we both wore masks.

People often complain about going to work, but when you suddenly can't, you realize the importance of seeing your friends and colleagues at work. Most of us spend many hours on the job, and work becomes not just a way to earn a paycheck, but an important part of our social lives. You feel like you have a place, and you're working shoulder-to-shoulder with others to accomplish a goal. Sitting in front of a computer on your couch, in pajamas if you wish, isn't really as appealing as it sounds.

That's why most telecommuters typically have an adjustment period, and find it necessary to create other social outlets.

My cat, Meimei, who had been looked after by kind co-workers, fussed at me for being gone but quickly warmed up. Having her as company has been very welcome, and I have been preparing treats for her to help make up for my absence.

But while I can tell from her tone what different "meows" may mean, her conversational abilities are, nonetheless, limited.

I'm reading two novels simultaneously, and I watch a little television. But I haven't done much in the way of exercise, which I know I should be doing. I could walk up and down the stairs, lift some weights, stretch… but I just haven't been very motivated, even when I know it would make me feel better.

It's like what some people experience in higher latitudes during snowy winters－seasonal affective disorder or SAD, also called the winter blues, is correlated with homebound conditions and decreased sunshine. I've gotten a taste of what a newcomer must feel during a winter in northern Finland.

China Daily recently reported that some residents have gotten more inventive than I have in staying occupied at home by doing such things as playing ping-pong on their dinner table or entertaining themselves with movies or video games.

I'm not much of a video game fan, and Meimei is not much of a ping-pong player, but I know we'll all get through this by working together.