When the Pandemic Hit Home

On March 8, my sister and I spent a lovely three hours with our 100-year-old mother, who was in a nursing home in Mason City, Iowa. It was an unusually warm day, so we went outside to soak up the sunshine and fresh air. We left her with the promise that we would return the next day. The nursing home shut its doors to visitors on March 9. We were never able to be with our mother again.

KATIE MacGREGOR, 69, WHITING, MAINE

Covid hit home for me when I became a remote worker (two weeks after starting a new job) and my twins’ teaching assistant all at once. My kids, at age 8, were incredibly understanding of my occasional meltdowns.

ASIA EDWARDS, 39, BLOOMFIELD, N.J.

While driving to work at the beginning of the pandemic, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this how I was going to die? I am an emergency room nurse. At first, the hospital was oddly vacant. The waiting room, which was normally loud, bustling and chaotic, was eerily quiet. But then it started, and nothing was ever really quite the same.

JOHNNA WALLACE, 42, DURHAM, CONN.

On March 11, I was uncomfortably pregnant and relieved to head to the hospital with my husband for a scheduled induction. I got hooked up to an IV, and we settled in to wait for contractions, turning on the TV: Tom Hanks has Covid. The N.B.A. game is canceled. The N.B.A. season is canceled. The nurse came in and told us: Normally you can have five visitors; we’re reducing it to two. An hour later: Your visitor list can’t have any minors on it. An hour later: No additional visitors at all; it’s good your husband is already here. When we finally left the insulation of the maternity room to go home, the outside world felt shockingly quiet.

JULIE DeJAGER, 38, CLEVELAND, OHIO

I was living alone in New Mexico, where people I knew were dying of Covid. On March 24, I called my youngest son in Chicago and asked if I could come and stay for a bit. He eagerly agreed, saying, “Sure, Mom, it’ll be like a pajama party.” I drove from Albuquerque to Chicago with my cat, Wanda. We crossed a landscape almost devoid of people. It was three days of isolated, frightening misery that ended when I tumbled out of my car in a sleet storm and dragged the cat carrier into my son’s kitchen, crying like a child.

KATHERINE SCHWARTZ, 73, EVANSTON, ILL.

I watched the last-minute nuptials of my son and daughter-in-law — who were married the afternoon of Friday, March 13 — on my phone. They were at the Manhattan city clerk’s office, originally just to get their marriage license, but they heard employees chattering in the hallways, saying the city was shutting down indefinitely the following week. They said “I do” that afternoon. In screen shots I cherish, the bride wore Lululemon and was sniffling. Later that weekend, we learned she was sick with Covid.

JEAN MARTIREZ BARTON, 61, NEW YORK CITY

In early March, we were hearing that everything was going to close down, so I made one big trip to Costco after work. As I arrived at our apartment, carrying loads of groceries, I saw a family from our building frantically leaving town. It was like a movie. They had the car, the baby, their hastily packed bags. “We have to get out of here!” the dad said as he hustled their son toward the car. I looked at the large chocolate cake I’d bought my family and wondered if I’d made the wrong preparations.

LAUREN ALZOS-BENKE, 42, BROOKLYN

My son’s sixth birthday party was supposed to be on Sunday, March 15, at Chuck E. Cheese. The Friday before his birthday, I brought 20 cupcakes to his class, but there were only nine kids there — everyone had pulled their kids out. I broke it to my son that we couldn’t have his party as planned, and he cried. I asked the invitees to meet us on the playground instead, but only three families felt safe doing that. While we tried to celebrate, another mom felt her phone buzz: “Schools are closing tomorrow.”

FARAH ALVIN, 47, NEW YORK CITY

I’m a registered nurse working in long-term care. Initially, we felt secure. Then my first patient became symptomatic. I remember feeling total panic as I gowned and masked to enter that room. Less than 24 hours later, 13 more residents were ill. Those first days were filled with fear, confusion, isolation, mountains of P.P.E. and staff shortages.

VICKY FLEMING, 66, GREAT BARRINGTON, MASS.

My 55-year-old wife was dying from metastatic breast cancer when the pandemic hit. The hospital where she received treatment no longer allowed me to take her inside to her appointments, so as of early March, I basically became her chauffeur. She had to endure her treatments alone, while I waited on the street.

SCOTT McGLASSON, 57, MINNEAPOLIS

I ran out of paper towels and ventured to BJ’s Wholesale Club early in the day, before they were sold out. I got some just as they finished stocking them. They were gone in five minutes. I stood in line for 40 minutes, terrified I would get sick. I scrubbed my hands and arms for a full two minutes when I got home.

AISHA McMILLAN, 42, BALTIMORE

It was March 12, and seats for most Broadway shows had been reduced to $50 in an attempt to boost sales. My friend and I ran over to the box office at lunchtime and snagged a pair of tickets to “The Book of Mormon.” We returned to our office, triumphantly waving our tickets, only for a co-worker to announce that all theaters had just been shut down. We never saw the show.

MELISSA MANNING, 56, NEW YORK CITY

On Friday, March 13, I received a phone call from my 3-year-old son’s day care to come pick him up immediately because they were closing. Everyone was crying: children because of the confusion and adults because of the uncertainty. I was eight months pregnant with my daughter, and that’s when it hit me: The first few months of her life would be nothing like I was expecting.

SARAH CORNWELL, 39, HILLSBORO, ORE.

I am a flight attendant. On Jan. 23, I received a voice mail message from my manager asking me if I felt OK. I had no idea why until my co-worker sent me an article about how there was a “possible” case of the novel coronavirus on the flight we worked the day prior. I kept my exposure a secret during my 14-day quarantine, except for a few family members, because I did not want to alarm anyone. I also got my will and advanced directive in order immediately.

CHRISTIE POULTON, 49, LOS ANGELES

The full weight of the pandemic became real to me in April, when I made a member of the housekeeping staff cry at the hospital where I work as a nurse supervisor. “Hurry up!” I yelled at him. His task? To clean the critical care beds. There were not enough beds, not enough ventilators, not enough time to grieve. As soon as we had one patient come in, gasping for breath, another would come in on the verge of dying. Driving home that night, I wept and wept in the shadow of a “HOPE” sign that had been erected, I suppose, to give us all some sign to hold on.

WENDY LAMPARELLI, 57, RIDGEFIELD PARK, N.J.

Our home was hit by a tornado on March 3. The next 10 to 12 days were filled with people helping with cleanup and providing meals, as we did not have electricity or water. The day we moved into our rental home was the day everything just stopped. We lived in that rental house for a year while trying to rebuild in the midst of Covid.

ELLEN BLOSSOM, 42, NASHVILLE

A few days after everything shut down in March 2020, we picked up little Jasmine. She became our precious diversion during the first two years of Covid. Now she is a certified therapy dog, volunteering at the hospital and elementary schools.

MARYANN BRIGGS, 73, BOULDER, COLO.

The lockdown had just been announced and my housemates and I tried for almost a week to get groceries delivered. We heard that the restaurant supplier Baldor could deliver in bulk. So we organized a grocery list with several neighbors and put in a $1,500 order. When the truck arrived, it was like a Red Cross food drop. We cheered on the driver as he unloaded.

MATT DOMINIANNI, 52, BRONX

On March 8, I was walking to deliver the paperwork to finalize an offer on an apartment in the Bronx. As I arrived, I knew something was wrong. My heart was racing and I was sweating buckets after just a few blocks. I made it home, but I was unable to leave my apartment for almost a month — so sick I could barely stand. My partner and I watched neighbors’ bodies carried out and listened to people yell from the windows about who had brought Covid into our building.

CARRIE SHANAFELT, 44, BRONX

On March 12, my college announced it was closing. All I could think was that I had just had the last three months of college ripped away. My friends and I held a mock graduation ceremony on the chapel stage. We bought construction paper and pipe cleaners and made graduation caps, reading each others’ names aloud with “Pomp and Circumstance” playing.

ALI JORDAHL, 25, BOSTON

I was a first-grade teacher in Atlanta. I had my yearly physical and asked about this new virus going around. Since I’m immunocompromised, my doctor said I should get some masks. Thursday, March 12, was the last normal day of school. On Friday, we were told to come in and prepare for an extended leave. I packed everything I could into my students’ book bags: crayons, pencils, snacks and books.

TERRI TILFORD, 58, ATLANTA

I was in a Target, and I turned down the paper towel aisle. Every shelf was empty. I took a picture with my iPhone and promptly burst into tears. I instantly realized that we were in a paradigm shift, and it was mind-blowing.

TIM PRENDERGAST, 64, PALM SPRINGS, CALIF.

I remember cheering along with my classmates when they announced school would be closed for two weeks. My mom told me she didn’t think we’d be back all year, and I thought she was crazy. I took a lot of pictures of flowers around my neighborhood, because I was going stir crazy.

AUDREY MOORE, 19, PHILADELPHIA