The Front Line

 Stephen and I had spent yesterday nervously cooking lunch and dinner for the kids together.  We didn’t talk a lot about his pending shift work with the COVID patients. We drank our faces off and went to bed at around 10 after watching a part of The Talented Mr. Ripley.  We had seen it in the movie theatre when we were first married funny to see it again on the eve of his departure. At midnight, the kids ran into our room screaming. There was a car in our driveway and a framed oversized leaf, hung by the garage, came crashing down.  If we had a home invasion, what would we do? Would the police come? Would they be wearing masks? Would the invaders have the Coronavirus?

We were terrified for no reason.  The car was a domino’s pizza delivery guy and the crash I cannot explain.  I spent the morning cleaning up the shards of glass littering the stairs by our garage, after Stephen left for work.  Stephen said it only took him 45 minutes to get to HSS from Quogue. The drive takes 90 minutes with our traffic. He said there was not a car on the road.  He sent me a selfie with his PPE and scrubs. His chest was exposed by the seep V in his scrubs and I could visualize the microscopic germs congregating in his chest hair. Stephen wrote he puts on a giant white suit after the PPE and he can’t take a selfie then because it is not sterile. He keeps his cell in a ziplock, has to keep his pens at work and keep a bag for his street clothes. HSS is only at 15% capacity.   Almost all of the patients are from Queens and do not speak English.  Every X-ray shows scarring in the lungs and the virus puts patients in a hypercoaguable state which means they are more susceptible to blood clots.

I have a baseline hum of anxiety.  I can feel in my hands, like a tremor before an earthquake. I have decided to allow my son to have his girlfriend spend the night with us in Quogue.  Her mom is a cancer doc and I trust the parents to be hyper-vigilant in the isolation. My housekeeper who has been quarantining at home in Queens will start working here on Monday.  She will wear a mask and gloves while working. She’s amazing. We have been paying to stay home for the past six weeks. I know I’m taking risks and I’m scared. The loneliness is hard for the kids to bear. The constant cooking and cleaning is horrible.  I complain nonstop. I even thought if I could somehow infect myself with a mild case I would. Crazy thoughts. I’m asthmatic and would probably die. When Pilarita comes she’s going to stay in her room and clean from a distance from the rest of us while wearing a mask and gloves. I’m leaving the garage door open as it leads to the backdoor of my house and she’ll go in and take a shower and change her clothes. Her husband who has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease is driving her. If he’s still COVID free and alive then I believe (hope) we are all safe.