Last week I worried about sucking up leaves and maple seeds with the riding mower, and the orange cup overflowing with red ketchup packets from Burger King, and why we keep it, with a half-gallon ketchup bottle in the fridge, and the shrimp I skimped on because they were cheaper but Dad could not pull the shells off with his stalling fingers and gave up on his dinner. Last week I listened to Diana sing, “There is sunshine in my soul today!” as she bathed and dried and dressed Dad and brought him downstairs for his breakfast and got him settled in.  She is always singing, bless her.  But now I lie, for the second time, shivering under my blankets with the body pains of Covid while my father suffers worse Covid pains and debilitations in the hospital where my sister Sarah stays with him round the clock 24/7 to help him shave and pee and bathe and eat his unusually delicious hospital meals and change the TV channels and brush his teeth, and to not let him grow lonely, bless her, snatching sleep in one-hour increments on the hospital room couch.  On the Sunday the ambulance drove Dad away, I sent and received hundreds of texts and emails, whole hours of messaging, keeping loved ones and friends up to date and reassured, fending off premature requests to visit for fear they would overtax the exhausted patient and infect the visitor, and I would have sent more messages but for an aunt and a daughter keeping their respective siblings informed.  Now I wait, weary and aching, for the virus to leave me, so I can resume my duties.  And in the meantime, I am isolating from Mom and at the same time watching over her, wearing a KN-95, hovering with hourly inquiries about how she is feeling, fearing she, too, will succumb.  And in the meantime, my children have delivered a week’s worth of delicious prepared meals, to ease my mind about cooking, and tonight Mom and I enjoyed chicken burrito bowls with rice and beans, a salad on the side, and are looking forward to tomorrow’s chicken alfredo, or maybe deep dish pepperoni pizza, bless them.