Last night I sat in the over-stuffed chair in the master bedroom where I have been installed since returning home from the hospital. I am quarantined from my family, I’m exhausted and, if I’m being honest, feeling a bit sorry for myself, especially in the evenings when I can hear them gathered for dinner. This too shall pass, I told myself, rubbing my eyes that ached and no longer focused on the book I was reading. I needed rest to recover from this but I couldn’t seem to will my body up from the chair and into bed.

And then it dawned on me: I was afraid to go to sleep.