As America continues to succumb to the ravages of the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, nowhere is it more intense than here in New York City.
My wife is a pediatric intensive care unit nurse at one of the city’s major hospitals that is swamped with victims, while refrigerated trucks are parked outside serving as a makeshift morgue. I am a 59 year-old Ph.D. microbiologist with a few comorbidities that ensure me a difficult time should I contract this virus.
For us it’s as real as it gets, and the peak death rate is still weeks away. We know several people who are in the hospital fighting for their lives, including two priests from the same parish.