Since the self-solituding began for me five weeks ago, I find myself in the delicate balance between sheer terror and complete faith that all is well, even if it looks like the farthest thing from the truth. Having been through major losses (my husband, both parents and two dear friends in the past 21 years), our home in Hurricane Andrew in 1992, an ectopic pregnancy that same year, shingles, heart attack, kidney stones four times and pneumonia from a month or so ago, I have become quite resilient and what passes for competent to handle anything that has come my way. I tell myself that this is different. There is nowhere to go where the virus is not. It is impacting every person on the planet in one way or another.