The second wave

April 24: Covid situation increasingly catastrophic in India. Still, I chose to return from Egypt rather than diverting to the U.S., to safety, to family, to a vaccine. I hope my choice doesn't turn out to be terribly unwise. The U.S. and U.K. are sending oxygen -- too late for those who died in the backs of rickshaws, in ambulances parked outside hospitals, in hospitals when the pressure suddenly dropped. I've resumed my lockdown checklist. I heard an ambulance wail somewhere down the block. I feel strangely calm in the midst of all this death and dying. 

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April 26: My body is stiff from sitting too much today. A manager encouraged me to go home, get vaccinated, wake up at 3 a.m. and file stories from Chicago. Worry only about myself. It would be wondrous to see loved ones, but I don't want to leave the story, my little secluded life here, my precious pet. All I have to do is stay inside -- not get sick, not go mad.

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April 29: Tested positive for Covid. No symptoms I can discern yet. Jordan called and we prayed a Rosary for my health. The skies are thick gray and reek of smoke -- possibly the 600 dead cremated every day and night here now.