Recently in the mornings, I’ve found myself lighting a candle, turning on some soft music, and keeping up with the news. But yesterday, I lived the news. Christine came home from a trip to her office and stood at the rail of the back deck, smiling at me as I raked leaves. I asked how she was and there was a pause. I paused. She indicated she’s been having recurring chest pain – more specifically, mid-sternum. I checked her pulse and listened for any audible heart sound changes or flutters. Her pulse was calm and steady at 66 bpm. Her respirations were at 14 and regular. Color was good. All seemed well. Then she said this had been going on for several days. I took her to the ER. As one would, I took her to the entrance where a gowned and masked young woman met us with some questions. She directed us to another door, where anther gowned and masked woman told me, “No visitors.” Before I could mutter the words, “But I’m her husband…and…” She reiterated, rather curtly, “No visitors.” No empathy. No, “I understand your concern, but here’s what the situation is…” There was no line. There was no rush. I abdicated an argument, and walked away while my wife entered the ER through the automatic doors. They closed behind her, and a chill came over me. What if she were to have some serious issue, or worse, something deadly may occur? I would not have access to my wife. I know this scenario is repeating itself across the country. I read about this in the news. I see the repots on CNN. This is Petoskey. A couple of hours later, I got a call. She’s been discharged and is awaiting pick-up. This bright, sunny, Friday morning, April 3, 2020, Christine’s back on the phone with her executive team, handling whatever new crisis befalls them. I’m watchful, but in awe. People taking care of people. I’m back keeping up with the news.