I never doubted that COVID is real. I just never imagined it would enter my world. As I reflect on the events, I can see God's hand in it all. He gave my parents and me a great deal of mercy, protection, and healing. He also reminded me of just how many people in my life love and support me. Prayer is one of the most powerful resources we have as Christian. And this experience provided remembrance of that fact.
I must first backtrack before getting to my time in the hospital. In the weeks and months leading up to the beginning of October, I was entirely run down by work. I had 19 cases and was still on rotation to receive more. My schoolwork intensified as group projects started in both of my classes. I was just trying to survive. I wasn’t doing anything to allow myself to thrive. And most certainly not on a spiritual level. I was not attending church or my discipleship group. I had allowed myself to become isolated, and stubbornly believed I would get through this particular season. It’s a shame how many times I have to be taught that withdrawing from time with other believers always leads to more struggling.
In the first full week of October, I left a home visit when my car started giving me problems. I made it a mere 2 miles before I pulled over in a parking lot and called my dad. As he calmly talked me through the simple steps I needed to take; I emotionally broke down. So, he did what only great fathers do; he came to me and entered my chaos. If that isn’t precisely what our heavenly father does, then I don’t know what is. While I waited on him to arrive, I made two phone calls. The first was for a tow truck. The second was to my discipleship group leader. Again, I was overcome by emotions and practically hysterical. She and her husband are a valuable resource for problem-solving. My conversations with them that evening reminded me of the obvious. I needed to get off the path I had been traveling. The one that had me trying to do life alone. And that had me in constant frustration and exhaustion. Ultimately, my car went to the shop for transmission issues and will hopefully be ready this week.
And then came Saturday, October 10th. I woke up with a fever of over 100. By Sunday, I was taking a COVID test. And on Monday, I had a telehealth appointment with my PCP. She was confident my test would come back positive. I started a regimen that included steroids, a z-pac, an inhaler, Zinc, and Vitamin C. The lowest my fever went that week was 99.4. My symptoms progressed to include loss of appetite, a dry cough, sinus pressure in my face, a headache, and difficulty breathing the day I went to the hospital. I must also include the factor that my mom wasn’t feeling well either. Her doctor had started treating her for a sinus infection the day before I woke up with a fever. Ultimately, her symptoms progressed to include loss of appetite, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, headache, and chills. So, on Saturday, October 17th, we decided we would go to the hospital. Anxiousness is what I felt that morning. First, because I have never had to do such a thing; second, I thought it would take me hours to do something so basic as getting dressed with how winded I felt.
It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes from the time we checked in before we were each in rooms with an IV of fluids and oxygen masks going. My mom tested positive for COVID. My COVID and flu tests came back negative. After several hours the decision was made that we would both be admitted. Before going to my room, a CT scan of my lungs was completed. The following morning, I was again swabbed for COVID, and the test came back as negative. That afternoon I was informed that there was scar tissue on my lungs that is consistent with a COVID exposure, and I had pneumonia. I was swabbed a third time, and that test was sent to the lab at St. Vincent’s Riverside. The doctors decided they were going to treat me for COVID due to my mom’s positive test, symptoms, and CT results. By Monday, I was started on my first round of antibiotics. I ended up having five days of this. I also had two separate doses of plasma with antibodies.
My dad managed to visit both my mom and me each day. I don’t know how he maintained such a pace, but I am glad he did. For in those moments, he was in my room, the reality of isolation disappeared. He never contracted COVID, and that is just one example of God’s mercy and provision. The third test that was sent off to a different lab came back as positive. Wednesday ended up being my most challenging day, physically and emotionally. My nurse had lowered my oxygen from 6 liters to 4. However, my numbers dropped below 90, and my oxygen had to go back to 6 liters. My mom was well enough to be discharged that evening. They wheeled her outside of my room and opened the door. It was the first time we had seen each other since being admitted. I remember us just looking at each other and crying. I was happy she was going home, but also sad I was staying behind. The second round of plasma was started around 5:00. Within seconds my IV was leaking. I had two daytime nurses. Between the two of them, they tried a total of five times to get a new IV line started. Each time my vein rolled. By the time that the third attempt came, I remember begging God to hold my vein still. After an hour we decided to take a break as nothing was working and my dinner arrived. I felt such frustration that my body would not cooperate so I could get the treatment. I called my parents in tears, entirely beside myself. I had separate phone conversations with my brothers doing the same thing. And in those moments, I also received text messages from some family and friends who thought about me and wanted to check-in. I got on my discipleship group’s Facebook page and wrote about my situation, asking for prayer.
My night nurse informed me that they were looking to have a nurse with years of experience that worked in the ICU to give me an IV. I was filled with anxiety. I couldn’t imagine being stuck again. I worried where they would do so as the inside of my forearms and the veins underneath felt raw. I was also recovering from where the vein from my first IV had blown. I kept staring at the plasma and antibiotics hanging from the IV pole, wondering if I would be able to get them into my system before they expired. I couldn’t bring myself to try to rest. Then at 12:15 am, a godsend. . . a nurse by the name of Vickie entered my room. She was the house supervisor for the evening. Her demeanor immediately brought me such a calmness. She informed me she was a praying woman. I told her that I had been praying God would hold my vein still. She draped a warm towel over my arm, informing me that she was going to wait to see how my veins would respond. After a few moments, she found a vein on the outside of my arm. She prayed out loud, asking God to give her steady hands. And then the needle slid in with such ease, and my vein complied. She informed me that she would be working all weekend, and all I had to do was ask for her if I needed her. I was immediately relieved from my anxiety. Within moments my nurse came in and started my treatment.
As I lay there, I had an entire list to thank God for. First, both of my parents took turns praying for me on the phone. They also took on the weight of my feelings because that is how great their love is for me. Second, both of my brothers listened to me blubbering like a baby as they offered support and encouragement. Third, that God intentionally had specific family and friends text me during the ordeal. Individuals that I could ask for prayer and know that they wouldn’t hesitate to do so immediately. Fourth, I have a discipleship group where I can share my raw feelings. A group of people that will offer encouragement and instantly pray for me. And fifth, that he allowed me to encounter Vickie. In those moments of prayer, God used everything I had to be thankful for to remind me that He was in control.
By Saturday the 24th, my oxygen was down to 2 liters, and I was well enough to be discharged. That night the first thing I enjoyed was a shower after nine days. The first few days home, I found it hard to settle. This was mostly due to the fact that there is always someone coming in when you are in the hospital. It almost programs you to always be anticipating something. Vitals have to be checked, medication has to be administered, various doctors have to check your progress, and of course, meals are delivered. The hospital is not where rest occurs. It is where treatment takes place. And the rest occurs once you are home.
I am in complete awe of how much love and care my parents and I have been spoiled with. We received meals five out of the first seven days I was home. We received four beautiful flower arrangements. We also received numerous greeting cards and gift cards. And had a plethora of people more than willing to make grocery store runs. These things were reminders from God that I have an abundance of people in my life that love and support me well. And that He is always providing.
I have experienced both of my parents being hospitalized for more than 20 days at a time. Each time the emotions of those experiences were ever-changing. I remember struggling with feelings of fear and anxiety. It’s a natural desire to wish you could take all of the discomforts away from your loved one. There was also the component of time. You have to learn how not to burn yourself out and not feel guilty for the time you spend away from them. My time in the hospital has given me a new level of empathy for those suffering from an illness. There are two elements at play; physical and emotional. Although I would not have wished for this situation, I am grateful for how God has used it to teach me. It’s often the uncomfortable and challenging things He exposes us to that end up softening our hearts. And our world certainly needs more people with softness. My heart truly breaks at the thought of those suffering from an illness. I know that I am incredibly fortunate. I did not decline during my stay. I also had so many people checking on me and the daily visits from my dad. I can only imagine how much heavier the ordeal would have been if I did not have people to support me.
I feel significantly better. I still lack my stamina. I am currently struggling with fear and anxiety thinking about things going back to “normal.” I have no way of knowing where I contracted COVID from. I feel this intense desire to want to hide in the house as my form of protection. I cannot imagine driving to work, carrying all of my items, sitting at my desk for hours at a time, completing paperwork, visiting multiple homes, and driving home at the end of the day. The thought of it makes me want to take a nap. So, I plan to speak with my doctor about whether I should take some FMLA. This is going to be an area where my faith will have to be stretched. Fear is such a powerful emotion. It’s one that likes to cripple us. My task at hand is to hand over the fear and let God replace it with trust. His goodness is not contingent on my cooperation. Yet, I believe that when we don’t empty our hands of what we are holding onto, we are shorting ourselves on how full we will feel from his peace and healing.
Joshua 1:9 NAS
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
Proverbs 12:25 NAS
Anxiety in a man's heart weighs it down, but a good word makes it glad.
Ephesians 3:20 NAS
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us.
Philippians 4:6-7 NAS
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
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Artist: Brandon Lake
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Artist: MDSN
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