What is already a massive limitation, it is during an epidemic such as this is a medium-sized disaster. Victor belongs to several groups at risk: because as a transplanted, no immune system, and because he is weakened from the last two heart surgeries in addition. I’m almost glad that the latest complications shackles, more or less, to the bed. Because basically he is of his meds is not the life to prevent. He’s in lockdown, he refuses to live in constant fear. Finally, the transplant surgeon with the beautiful name doctor Gluck promised at the time: “We will give you a new life so you can live it!” Live means to work, share, eat, celebrate, be together. Life is taking place at long tables in the workshop and in the gallery, but especially with other people.

What is not to say that Victor is careful. What doesn’t mean that he protects.

But if in the gallery, all the cough, then he ends up with pneumonia in the hospital. Or food poisoning if the cook has not washed in the Taqueria, the hands. What would cause the Coronavirus with him, I can’t imagine in the first place. And that he spends just now so a lot of time in the hospital, driving me almost to despair. Because Hygiene is not written in American hospitals, amazingly enough, just big. The nursing staff will be wearing his color uniforms joyful on the way to and from work in public transport. “I am proud of my profession,” said one to me. Bloody bandages, contaminated sheets and other unappetizing possibilities often lie for hours on the floor because the cleaning staff belongs to a different Department than the care. “We can’t get rid of it!” Members may theoretically not, but since the Swiss housewife is in me, but stronger.

worst of all but it is in the emergency room. And of course we end up, of all things, because, just now. I think of all the well-intentioned, but worldly advice that I have received over the last few weeks, and sigh loudly. That I can control in life is very little, I get it slowly. I don’t need to be constantly pushed with the nose on it.

A Triage-nurse Victor’s personal details on. The standard question of whether he was recently in China, is no longer made at all. For this: “have you Had in the last weeks of contact with sick people?”

We exchange a bewildered glance. Victor doesn’t answer for so long that the nurse from the computer screen, looks up. He glances in the crowded waiting room, about the coughing, sob at the end, spitting, moaning, curse at the end of collection of people. The’d all rather be somewhere else. Somewhere other than here.

“Well,” he says only. And then we all three laugh, and then we can’t stop.

“If you can laugh, cough without, are you okay.”