Notes from the COVID Ward

The day before Christmas Eve, Hubby started feeling like he was coming down with a cold. He stayed home from work and slept all day. Dragon and I decided to continue on with a cookie delivery mission. We dropped off plates of holiday cookies to friends and family.

On Thursday, Christmas Eve, Hubby and I were both quite sick. He couldn’t taste his holiday dinner.

My own last full meal for nine days was Christmas afternoon and I was too ill to enjoy it.

On Sunday, we went for COVID tests at a CVS drive-through, where we had gotten a same day appointment. It was easy. The results were quick. They both came back positive.

During that first week, I experienced significant GI problems. I was so miserable with chills that I had to strong-arm myself into taking my hands out from under a warm blanket to swallow Advil and Tylenol for the fever. For six days, I didn’t have enough interest in my appearance to comb through my near waist-length hair. I had to hold myself up against the sink when I brushed my teeth. Finally, I couldn’t keep down water and I became dehydrated. My doctor’s office advised going to the ER for fluids.

On Wednesday, December 30, I was given IV fluids at Sparrow Hospital’s ER department, and a chest X-Ray. The doctor told me I had COVID pneumonia and gave me the criteria to return to the hospital. They included my oxygen saturation consistently dropping to below 93%. I was prescribed a Z-Pac, anti-nausea meds, and an inhaler for the wheezing.

On Thursday, New Year’s Eve, my oxygen levels were in the mid-80’s. I didn’t want to go back to the hospital. Friday morning, New Year’s Day, my oxygen saturation level dropped briefly to 77% and settled at 81%. My pulse was over 130 getting up to go to the bathroom. I texted Mariko, my friend who is a COVID ICU nurse in Virginia. “Call an ambulance,” she texted back. I responded with, “OK.”

Hospital.” I said that one word to Hubby. He asked my pulse ox, and told me to call 911 while he got up to pack a bag. I continued to sit there. He re-entered the living room a moment later and realized I hadn’t been able to make the call. He dialed 911. I sat there. When the ambulance arrived, I got on the gurney and closed my eyes. The medic gave me oxygen, took me in, and the ER staff tested my pulse ox again. “They’re admitting you,” the nurse said. A portable chest X-Ray was brought in a few moments later. The pneumonia had progressed noticeably in the 36 hours since I was there for fluids. The doctor came to ask some questions before I was taken upstairs.

Do you want to be resuscitated if your heart stops while you’re in the hospital?” he asked. I told him that Hubby and I had just made all of those decisions (we’d created our trusts, medical directives, etc. with a legal firm over the previous two months and signed the documents that week). The doctor said he wanted to know how I felt about it right then. I said, “No, don’t resuscitate me, I don’t want to risk ending up brain dead but physically alive.” We talked some more. He said my chances of recovery at my age would be strong, but admitted there were no guarantees. Finally, I said, “Yes, try to resuscitate me if my heart stops.” He asked if I wanted an Ativan for anxiety. I said no, thank you. They wheeled me up to the COVID floor.

I want to tell you about some things to keep in your home during these times. I hope they will help you not only to feel prepared, but to be prepared.

I’m five days out of Sparrow Hospital now, where I received excellent care from the medical staff, and extraordinary support from my family, friends, and colleagues. I feel like the most blessed librarian in the state.

I’m still struggling to recuperate from COVID, and I suspect that will be the case for some time. Hubby never had a fever or breathing problems, and he’s back to 95%. Dragon got it, too. She’s nearly fully recovered and didn’t require hospital support, either. All three of us needed, and received, help and support throughout the illness from other people. We’re still in quarantine.