On a recent morning, I awoke at five to the sound of our basement door closing two floors below. In order to keep me safer, my husband is now living down there in a little apartment. He was heading out to perform five surgeries, all urgent. He’s an ophthalmologist, so his face will be six inches from the faces of his patients. That Chinese doctor who died, the whistleblower who went to jail, he was an ophthalmologist. As soon as that thought arrived, I pushed it out of my mind.

Instead, I grabbed my phone, clicked on YouTube and listened to: Female Narrator Reading the Psalms. She’s been my go-to in these past few weeks as I’ve worried about a relative in a dicey situation overseas. The narrator whispers as she reads, which sometimes feels comforting but as often sounds creepy. And the Psalms—they’re not always all goodness and light. One night, I drifted off to “The Lord is my Shepherd” and then startled awake to verses about smiting enemies. The good news, though, is that the relative arrived stateside a few days ago. The fact that he managed to get out at all was miraculous. He’s home safe. Or, at least, he’s as safe as we all are right now.

I am trying to stay safe. I heard that gargling with vinegar and water might stave off the virus. Yesterday, without measuring, I poured myself a glass and gargled. Too much vinegar. I choked for several minutes, fighting to catch my breath. As I gasped, it occurred to me how darkly humorous it would have been to die of vinegar poisoning while trying to avoid coronavirus.

In this household, we are rigid about social distancing. That includes no visits to the hairdresser. I look like The Mad Woman of Chaillot, gray hair springing out in all directions. Now that I attend daily video chats, I’m forced to stare at that mop for hours. However, on the upside, while on Zoom, I discovered I have a dimple. Well, maybe it’s just a dent in my face, but I like to think of it as a dimple.

As you know, all of our hospitals are in short supply of protective medical gear. The back wall of our bedroom closet has floor-to-ceiling shelves that are filled with junk. If I could manage a controlled burn of any area of my house, I’d start with that closet. A couple days ago, I was gazing at the mess when I spotted a face mask hanging off of the edge of a metal box right at eye level. My husband had no idea how it got there. Yesterday, he remembered that years ago he’d bought masks for two medical trips abroad. He asked me to check the top shelf, three feet above the box. I found a bag of leftover masks. How did one fall out of a closed bag? No idea, but the rest are at the hospital now. A miracle, of sorts.

We used to have an expectation of what each day would hold. We planned baby showers, weddings, graduations, vacations. We had hopes for book launches, promotions, paying off mortgages. Now, all bets are off. Collectively, our dreams have been dashed. Moreover, we have little idea of what lies ahead. As a community, we are grieving our losses and are shaken about the future.

We are fighting a common enemy, the coronavirus. For the great majority of us, the best way to fight is to STAY HOME and not contribute to the spread. But some people don’t have the luxury of sheltering in place: law enforcement, fire fighters, healthcare providers, store clerks.  The rest of us must take ourselves out of circulation into to protect those who daily face danger in order to keep us safe.

Even though we are physically distancing ourselves, we need to stay emotionally connected. Call shut ins. Stay in contact with friends and neighbors. Read community message boards to see how you can safely help others. Many people have lost their jobs. Maybe you have lost your job. If you still are employed and are able, please find ways to help those who suddenly have no income.

We are going to get to the other side. Stay brave. Sending lots of love and a virtual hug.