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Mat Risher leaves the safety of his home near Seattle three days a week for dialysis at a clinic, a treatment he cannot live without but one that now most likely increases his risk of exposure to the coronavirus. About 20 patients sit in a small space with him, tethered for several hours to machines that filter toxins from their blood. All now have their temperatures taken before they enter. They can wear a surgical mask and are told that the rooms are cleaned and machinery disinfected regularly. One of the first people to die from the virus in the United States had received dialysis at the very same clinic, information that triggered a panic attack in Mr. Risher. (Abelson, 4/11)

For Singh and other addiction specialists, efforts to address one epidemic can put patients at increased risk for the other. As cities and states throughout the country ban many public gatherings, concerns over the pandemic have compelled addiction medicine providers to limit access to their facilities and temporarily halt in-person group therapy sessions and replace them with counseling over the phone or through videoconferencing. (Johnson, 4/11)

Should you wash your hands? Are you going out to get the mail? Should you touch the mailbox? Should you touch the mail? Should you clean the mail? Should you take a walk? Should you wear a mask? What about gloves? What about neighbors — stay six feet away? Ten? Will they approach? What will you do? Will you be standoffish, or laugh it off? (Anthony, 4/13)

The line outside the Panam International supermarket in Northwest Washington looped along 14th Street, nearly three dozen shoppers, half wearing masks to protect themselves from the coronavirus. Yet most of the patrons stood only a foot or two apart, ignoring sidewalk markings and public health warnings to stay six feet away. The employee monitoring the crowd at the entrance on Saturday in Columbia Heights offered no reminders as the line grew over the course of a few minutes. (Schwartzman, Williams and Hermann, 4/12)

The worried doctors stood together after their rounds, weighing the risks. A 31-year-old pregnant woman was in peril, her lungs ravaged by the coronavirus. If they delivered her baby now, it might reduce the strain on her body and help her recover. But it was more than two months before the due date, and the infant would probably have difficulty breathing, feeding and maintaining temperature and be at risk for long-term health problems. The surgery itself, a cesarean section, would be a stressor for the mother. (Fink, 4/12)

The Pregnancy Coronavirus Outcomes Registry began enrolling pregnant women across the country with confirmed or suspected COVID-19 on March 24. It will track participants for a year to learn how the virus impacts maternal health, fetal development, preterm delivery, newborn health and outcomes for underserved women at higher risk of mortality during pregnancy. The study also will address transmission: whether a mother can pass the infection on to her child during pregnancy and birth or through breast milk. (Feldberg, 4/10)

Tens of thousands of women across the country trying to have a baby through fertility treatments are in limbo because of COVID-19: They've had to postpone their appointments indefinitely due to coronavirus recommendations recently issued by the American Society for Reproductive Medicine. But now some fertility specialists and their patients are pushing back. Among them is Amy Schmidt Zook, whose bathroom cabinet in her Fort Worth, Texas, home is a miniature pharmacy of medicine and medical equipment — syringes, needles, alcohol swabs, cotton pads, medications for stimulating her ovaries and follicles and for preventing premature ovulation. (Pfeiffer, 4/12)

The novel coronavirus is killing about 1 in 10 hospitalized middle-aged patients and 4 in 10 who are older than 85 in the United States, and it is particularly lethal to men even when taking into account common chronic diseases that exacerbate risk, according to previously unpublished data from a company that aggregates real-time patient data from 1,000 hospitals and 180,000 health-care providers. (Achenbach, 4/11)

A new letter from researchers at New York University shows that obesity is a risk factor for COVID-19 hospitalization in patients under the age of 60. The letter was published yesterday in Clinical Infectious Diseases. In other research news, scientists from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) highlight geographic COVID-19 differences, and Johns Hopkins experts lay out the upcoming need for personal protective equipment (PPE) for healthcare workers. (Soucheray, 4/10)

With the outbreak causing indefinite school closures across the country, children are having to figure out new ways of learning and playing together while living in isolation. (Murthy, 4/12)

From mandates to work from home to massive school closures, the coronavirus has transformed the lives of millions of Americans. (Booker, 4/11)

Hernan Cortés fled the Aztec capital Tenochtitlán in 1520 under blistering military assault, losing the bulk of his troops on his escape to the coast. But the Spanish conquistador unknowingly left behind a weapon far more devastating than guns and swords: smallpox. When he returned to retake the city, it was reeling amid an epidemic that would level the Aztec population, destroy its power structures and lead to an empire’s brutal defeat — initiating a centuries-long annihilation of native societies from Tierra del Fuego to the Bering Strait. (Mozingo, 4/12)

In 2004 historian John M. Barry wrote the definitive book on the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic. Between 1918 and 1920, 675,000 Americans, many of them previously healthy young adults, died from a novel H1N1 strain of flu as it swept across the country in waves. Comparing the current COVID-19 pandemic to the 1918 pandemic has been common in recent weeks. In an interview with CIDRAP News, Barry shares what's the same, what's different, and why he's glad historians don't have to predict the future. (Soucheray, 4/10)

Sister Donna Maria Moses, a Catholic nun and hospital chaplain who has seen the coronavirus pandemic firsthand, has adapted her ministry to provide solace to the dying over the phone, instead of the usual in-person visits. She manages three staff chaplains and dozens of volunteers from many faiths at Santa Clara Valley Medical Center, one of the first hospitals to treat coronavirus patients returning from China and ill-fated cruise trips. The chaplains can’t visit patients, or even the units where COVID-19 patients are being treated. Moses is no longer able to hug or hold hands with someone who’s sick or grieving family members, but she’s determined to provide other kinds of spiritual and emotional comfort. (Dillon, 4/11)

During the two weeks after Minnesota issued its stay-at-home order in response to the Covid-19 pandemic, Jane Egerdal cried every day. Ms. Egerdal, 62, has a history of depression. Almost overnight, the things she had been doing to successfully cope with her condition—going to the gym, meeting friends at coffee shops, her job as a school nurse—disappeared. “I lost that network of people and sense of job and purpose,” says Ms. Egerdal, who lives alone in Faribault, Minn. “The loneliness is unbearable.” (Petersen, 4/12)

With the coronavirus pandemic causing unprecedented levels of stress and grief, companies offering virtual mental health care say they’re seeing a massive surge in interest — and are scrambling to meet that demand by introducing new services, accelerating launch timelines, and bringing more staff on board. Covid-19 could prove to be a breakout moment for these businesses, which had been trying to address the shortage of in-person mental health care by providing virtual coaching, monitoring, and educational content long before the coronavirus outbreak. (Robbins, 4/13)

The outbreak of the novel coronavirus across the globe and resulting impact on the lives of billions of people has highlighted the necessity for accurate information relating to the devastating pandemic. But how can individuals even start to process the vast amount of information being disseminated? (Bell, 4/13)

This Holy Week, celebrated by Christians worldwide, coincides with the Jewish holiday Passover, when people often join family for religious gatherings. But these aren’t normal times. (Saltzman and Fong, 4/11)