Usually, this time of year, I'm swamped with work culminating on December 7th, followed by a deluge of other projects leading up to Christmas. Thanks to the never-ending battle of work-from-home, there's never been an opportunity for a steady pause.
Even before this last push, everyone was already exhausted, lingering coughs, congestion, and sneezing plaguing everything. There was no surprise that my wife ultimately came down with a positive test for COVID-19. It was a bit surprising to find me with a positive test as well.
For the first week of December, I handled things pretty well: multiple journeys to Employee Health, and lots of Day-Quill to self-medicate all the minor conditions. Push finally came to shove, and the numerous symptoms could be treated, however, last Sunday morning found myself with difficulty breathing just for a 20-foot walk to the bathroom.
Still, I left my house, walked to the ambulance, and got myself situated under my own power, which was my goal in the whole process. With a guy my size, my age, my comorbidities, I had a window to go in under my own terms... or else end up dead.
Another advantage I had was that I work on the non-clinical side of an integrated hospital system. The first thought of calling out the "employee" card screams preferential treatment, but I can assure you, every employee got triple the thank you's and three statements/questions
(a) What can I do to make things better for myself? The doctor told me to lay on my stomach, side, head, and I was using all my power to move. Seconds and individual breaths count.
(b) What can I do to help the staff? "Get better," was the usual answer, but trying to coordinate a wired-filled trip to the bathroom and avoiding a demanding call-bell at the wrong time meant extra check-ins during off-peak time.
(c) Was anybody else getting better? Definitely going into HIPAA territory for this one, but I spent six days in the ICU. The hospital has 25 ICU dedicated beds (with more expanding into other parts of the hospital. Of those 25 beds, all COVID, only one patient was communicative of any sort (me). The rest were heavily sedated, on vents or very close to it. No one ever seemed to get better. New patients were replacing the old (never confirmed. You could tell from the tone and phrasing of the staff.)
I strongly felt that I was the department mascot. Somebody who did belong, but provided a little hope that people could get better. It hurt, but I waved and smiled anytime someone passed by the windows of my super-reverse pressured glass room. The positivity works both ways.
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| Super-early on. |
After days in the ICU, wave after wave of IV steroids and anti-virals, I could actually start to breathe again, with only half the oxygen, then even less. Late Friday night I was moved out of the ICU, and into a regular room, with regular oxygen and tubing. By 2pm Saturday, I was in the car and heading home.
Thankfully, oxygen levels are staying between 94-98%, I'm eating regularly, and only have a few days of steroids left to mess around with my body.
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