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Strange how little we know. When the world was hit by the unknown we were all unprepared. The disparity of this virus entered my personal world and has encompassed my mother’s life.

A number of residents and one worker tested positive for Covid on Sunday at the facility where my mom lives. The west wing was converted into a quarantine hall. My mom is in the end stages of congestive heart failure. It has been a hard week. Her Covid-19 test came back negative.

At 1:30 a.m. Monday morning I got a call from the nursing home. My mom was having severe chest pains and her blood pressure was spiking. They called me to talk to her to see if I could give her some calm and comfort. With my phone on speaker phone, I drove to the nursing home in case it was time, in case this was it. I did not know if I would be let in or not, but I did know I had to be as close to her as I could be. For an hour and forty-five minutes I held the phone. My mom could not talk much, I did not know what to say, but we could hear each other breathing. Breathing is an act of the living. The hospice nurse came, my mom was given more morphine and her dosage was increased. Finally, she was able to go to sleep. I went back home. I could not go to sleep, so masked and gloved, I went to Walmart as soon as it opened and I bought dolls. If dolls were whisky, I would have been plastered! I have collected dolls my whole life, I made them for a while, and I love them always. I got surprise dolls full of little packets I could open.

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Tuesday when I went to talk to my mom on our walkie talkies, through the window I saw residents with masks on seeking to find out who was still on this side of quarantine. There was joy in seeing one another and fear. All grumblings about confinement were silenced. A real threat hangs over them, over my mother.

The home was testing workers again yesterday, in the front room where the windows are, so we could not visit through the window. I went around back to the window where her room is. She cannot stand long so she got up and waved at me. The staff gave her a remote phone to talk to me. I told her to get back in bed. For thirty minutes we visited. I do not know if this will be the way it is going to be from now on. I have had to learn to roll with what is and not waste time on what is not.

I have not hugged my mother since March, but I count myself blessed that I get to see her. Just yesterday one of my friend’s fathers died of the virus. I do not know how much longer I will get to see my mom, so I do not look ahead. A day, an hour at a time, a minute, I focus on where I am, not where I might be.

For months before this Covid world began, I visited my mother everyday. Unfortunately, what I discovered was that only a handful of residents had regular visitors. Nurses and CNAs did not get much respect or appreciation for their jobs. Now, people do come to talk to their loved ones through the windows or through Skype. Nurses and CNAs are working under so much stress, as are the housekeepers, the kitchen staff and the administrative staff. I pray. I watch my mom offer encouraging words to the masked residents and staff when she can. Her example keeps me doing what I can.