experience of coronavirus
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I started having symptoms that I thought were related to seasonal allergies. But they worsened. I heard that my yoga instructor had been diagnosed with COVID-19. As I developed increasing chest tightness, coughing, wheezing, and a fever, I investigated where to get a test. Luckily, as a health care provider, I was able to do drive-through testing locally. Two days later, while waiting for my results, my husband, a retired family practice physician, listened to my lungs, which had developed rales and crackles, the beginning signs of possible pneumonia. Just then the phone rang, and the physician called to tell me I had a positive coronavirus test. It was off to the emergency department.
As the ambulance doors closed, I saw my husband telling me he loved me, and I felt the fear that I might never see him again if this got worse. I would not say that I am a very dependent person who needs constant reassurance, but after 44 years together, I wanted his loving support. I did not want to be seriously ill or to die without him. After arriving at the hospital, I was ensconced in isolation. The nurses started intravenous (IV) lines, drew blood, listened to my wheezing lungs, and tried their best to make me as comfortable as possible in their very few trips into the inner sanctum in their personal protective equipment. As this was the beginning of the pandemic, they were lucky to have such equipment, even though some of it was borderline! One nurse had tape on her face shield to hold it together, and it obstructed her clear view of things. Another nurse, trying to start an IV, had a helmet that was too large, and the hard-shell part kept slipping down over her eyes. I finally asked if I could hold it in place so she could see. It worked!
After all the poking and prodding, x-rays, medications, and vital sign checks, I would be left alone. It was lonely, and my brain tended toward worry. I call myself an “optipest,” which means I try to think positively but often start catastrophizing. As a nurse-midwife and professor for 45 years, I kept trying to second guess what was going on. I just was not sure. I was frightened, but I also knew that transitions like birth and death are individual experiences, no matter how many people are present to bear witness to these passages. I thought of my friend Kathy, who, in the final weeks of her life among us, was surrounded by loved ones, and yet her physical self was unaware, busy doing other things. I would cry every time we left after visiting her, thinking I might never see her again, but I know she will always be a part of me and many others whose lives she touched. It made me think about all the friends and family who were sending me love as I lay there in isolation. This did not require their physical presence. I also kept thinking about all the things I want to do in my life and of my precious family, friends, and colleagues who I want to spend more time with!
Luckily, after a few days in the hospital, my fever decreased, my lungs cleared somewhat, and the x-rays and laboratory test results came back as improved and relatively normal. I also figured out that while feeling lonely, fearful, and out of control, I had a lot of love and support from afar. That helped a lot during my recovery at home as well.
I am filled with gratitude for the excellent care I received, as well as the cards, calls, prayers, dinners, groceries, flowers, and even the e-mails I got from family, friends, and neighbors. Most of all, I am thankful to be alive and well to continue my journey.