In some ways, AIDS was scarier than the coronavirus because we operated in the dark for so many years. We remember the (mostly) all-hands-on-deck attitude, especially in the public hospitals and local health departments. We remember the critical role of public activism in moving the needle when medical progress faltered. When I was a resident training at Bellevue in the 1990s, the hospital created a dedicated AIDS ward, a specialized H.I.V. team, an outpatient virology clinic and — in the darkest of those days — “the dying ward” on 12-East, where patients could have private rooms for their final days.

In our hospital now, the entire I.C.U. wing of the emergency department has been converted to a respiratory unit for patients with suspected coronavirus infections who are too ill to remain at home. All elective surgeries have been canceled, freeing up surgical staff, operating rooms and post-op units. Expedited discharges have opened up scores of inpatient beds. Every available corner of the hospital is being repurposed for patient care, to prepare for the onslaught that is already beginning. And every other hospital is doing the same.

These colossal rejiggerings have created a breathless feel to our work. Every day things are different, but there’s comfort in the concreteness and agility of the process. No doubt there will be miscalculations along the way — even when you hew to solid science, logistics always require improvisation — but the ground troops are moving purposefully.

And thank goodness for that, because on the personal side of the coronavirus crisis, we doctors and nurses feel just as baffled as everyone else. Could rubbing alcohol and aloe gel really substitute for hand sanitizer? Will tissues be flushable if toilet paper runs out? Is it safe to go to the bagel store? What do we do about our older parents? Is it even possible to keep our kids from touching their faces?

We watch the news with just as much anxiety as the general public. We’re relieved that one of our trusted own is up there, though we wish Dr. Fauci had the authority to quarantine the less evidence-based politicians. The way in which this public health crisis is continuously being refracted through a political lens — playing down risks for the sake of ratings, worrying more about the stock market than about lives — leaves medical professionals steaming with anger. We want rational policy, not meaningless fluff. We don’t have time for this.

We remember the precious years — and the tens of thousands of lives — lost while President Ronald Reagan pointedly ignored the AIDS epidemic. We remember how the administration attempted to muzzle Surgeon General C. Everett Koop when he tried to tell the truth about the nature and extent of the disease.

There’s a point at which those without relevant knowledge simply need to stand down. From the perspective of the medical community today, we’ve long since passed it.