long, strange night in a Temecula hospital bed last summer, losing sleep over her parents.
Her mom, Janice, was in a room down the hall; her dad, Virgil, in another. All three had coronavirus. Staff moved through the hallways in white suits and circular helmets. Once, a doctor paid a visit to Heather’s room virtually, via an iPad on wheels.
Heather was released the next day, but her parents had to stay. “Dad, I love you,” she told Virgil before she left. “You re gonna be okay.”
Heather touched his hand, promised she’d be back with his hearing aids and a phone charger. By the time she returned his condition had deteriorated. No family members, except for her mom, were allowed in the room.