Truths From the Covid Unit
For those of you who haven’t read my other posts, I had contracted a covid-19 infection while I was in a hospital for back surgery. I developed pretty severe symptoms. High fever, nausea and vomiting, extreme fatigue and weakness, and wheezing and shortness of breath that led to needing to be on oxygen. I was in the hospital for 2 weeks, and then was transferred to a rehabilitation hospital for 3 weeks. It was a terrifying ordeal. Aside from myself, I personally don’t know anyone else who had to be admitted to the hospital for covid. The people I know who were infected, were fortunate enough to be able to recover at home. The point of this post is to raise awareness as to what goes on inside the covid unit. Everyone speculates what it might be like, but I’m here to give you the full inside story, coming from someone who lived there.
One thing I never thought I’d have to do at 31, was have a conversation with hospital staff and my family about dying. I’ve been in situations in the past where I could have died. But this was different. Covid was a scary thing, and no one knew exactly how it would affect someone. Would I beat it? Or would it take me? Because of the unknown, people didn’t know what to say to me because they were scared for me. I had people call and tell me “I’m so glad I got to know you. You’re such a beautiful person”…all because they thought they wouldn’t get that chance again. I had conversations with family and friends about “what if I don’t make it out of here?”. A doctor making their rounds went over my options for respiratory support, should I deteriorate further. Imagine being 31 and having to tell the staff what you will or will not allow as far as medical interventions go. I was so scared that I wouldn’t make it out of the hospital.
Aside from the symptoms, imagine being a patient in the hospital in the middle of a pandemic. Full visitor restrictions. That means no family, no friends…NO ONE by your side. My only companions were the nurses working round the clock to take care of me, and the doctors and respiratory therapists. Even when I was in ICU on a ventilator after my back surgery, no one was allowed to come. Instead, the ICU Facetimed my sister while I was in a coma state, so that she could talk to me. For the 2 weeks that I recovered from my back surgery and fought covid, I was on my own. I was lucky enough to have a sister and brother-in-law who drove to the rooftop of a parking garage so I could see them wave from my window. Another day I had friends drive to that same spot and hold signs for me. My family and friends drove over an hour just to wave to me. And in those moments, it made everything better. Just seeing them outside was a comfort to me. I knew I wasn’t really alone in my fight.
When I moved to the “Covid Floor” after finding out I tested positive, no one told me what to expect. They just shipped me up there and left. Everything happened so fast. Even though I know medical staff wear personal protective equipment to shield themselves from covid, I wasn’t prepared for not being able to identify my nurse. I wasn’t told that it would be pretty terrifying to have someone who looked like they had on a hazmat suit standing over your bed. They didn’t tell me that no one would be coming to my room to check on me, or that I would mostly be communicating with the nursing staff through the intercom on my bed. They didn’t tell me that the only time I would see a nurse is when they would come in to give me medications, or help me reposition in bed. They didn’t tell me that being quarantined in an isolation room meant no bathing, or physical therapy. Or that when your meal comes, it has to sit outside in the hallway until a nurse could bring it in because dietary staff weren’t allowed in your room. You didn’t get to eat your meal until someone had time to bring it to you, because of having to put on PPE, so your food was always cold. They didn’t tell me just how awful I would feel. They didn’t tell me that we would be using ice packs and cold wash cloths to try to bring my fever down. Or that I would be shaking uncontrollably due to the fever.They didn’t tell me that I would be able to tell when someone died on my floor. They didn’t tell me that the solitude, and fear of the unknown would almost break me. They didn’t tell me anything, other than I tested positive for Covid-19 and I would be transferred to the Covid Unit.
Here’s the thing with Covid-19. Nobody with the virus is the same. Some people have no symptoms. For some it causes permanent lung damage, entire body shut down from the cytokine storm, and/or death. And others fall somewhere in between. That is what is terrifying about having a covid diagnosis. There’s no way to know how sick you will or won’t be. After having more than my fair share of unexpected medical problems in my life, once my symptoms worsened, I inevitably thought I was going to die. And no one could tell me otherwise. I felt as though I was just lingering between the 2 possible scenarios: Well, either I’m going to make it out of this and go home at some point….or I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my family or friends again. Suddenly I found myself realizing that the last time I might see my sister was when she dropped me off for surgery. The last time I saw my parents was 2 nights before that. I had the realization that I would never see my loved ones while in the hospital, and if I died, I only had my phone to tell them I loved them beforehand. To make matters worse, right as I began feeling caught in the middle between beating covid and succumbing to it, the patient to one side of my room passed away. The same day, the patient on the other side of me went home. She was waved off by a large number of medical staff, cheering for her recovery. NOW how am I supposed to feel? My hospital room was literally in the middle of the two scenarios. I just witnessed exactly what my brain was thinking. ALL IN ONE DAY. I think that was the moment where fear really set in.
But when it was all said and done, I can proudly say I survived covid-19. I might be a covid long hauler, still dealing with lingering symptoms. I might struggle mentally some days with everything I’ve been through. But I’m still here. I survived. And now I’m hoping by sharing my story, I will be able to provide some type of help/comfort to another.
