“Matthew isn’t home, and I’m not opening it! You’re sick, probably contagious. I don’t want my daughter to see you like this, all pale and bald. Go on, get out of here!”

My legs trembled. The white gate of my house—the house where I had lived for forty years—was secured with a heavy padlock. The light blue scarf slipped a little from my head, and I felt a hot wave of shame. The world felt like it was collapsing. And the worst part, the very worst part, is that several neighbors came to their windows.