It all started out on the Saturday morning before Thanksgiving in 2020. After my husband had started coming down with something we hoped wasn’t Covid-19, then we both woke up with the same cough and congestion he had experienced the previous night. We reached out to a house-call doctor. She came to the house, checked us out, and collected nasal swabs that she took to the lab that same Saturday morning. By Monday morning, her email arrived with news from the lab we were both positive for Covid-19.
The first three days were a lot like having a miserable type of flu. Fever, deep cough, loss of taste and smell, malaise, and misery. Our asthma flared and we shared some identical rough lung symptoms of coughing and incredible internal lung pressure and heaviness. This was not our first rodeo with respiratory infections, so we were ready with plan that included a pulse oximeter, digital thermometer, acetaminophen, plenty of fluids, homemade chicken noodle soup, and as much rest as possible.
Thanks to local grocery stores offering online ordering and delivery services, we stocked up on food we could handle, like chicken noodle soup, clear liquids, and food fit for a good recovery. However, walking into the kitchen brought a strong fear of contaminating my food supply!
Each time fixing food, gloves, a fresh disposable mask, and a clean robe were donned. After fixing a meal, the lightweight robe went back into the dryer for a “steam sanitize” cycle, and became part to my cooking “hazmat suit.” Imagination went wild with invisible Covid “germs” everywhere!
The second half of the week brought relief and feeling better, and telecommuting resumed a couple days before Thanksgiving. It seemed like it was beatable, and that health was on an upswing. We were supposed to host the Thanksgiving dinner that week for immediate family. Instead, the turkey stayed in the freezer, and other members of our family fixed dinner and dropped it off on our front porch. We sat in the double recliner lethargically eating Thanksgiving dinner of of lap trays!
Then, over the next ten days, recovery turned backward, going downhill fast. A rising fever and seriously worsening symptoms consumed me. On Sunday night, fifteen days after getting Covid, symptoms turned to miserable and unbearable, including several wretched trips to the bathroom. Pain, nausea, coughing, fever, a blinding headache, and a strong sense of pending complete collapse overtook me. Waking my husband, we quickly decided he would have to drop me off at the hospital.
In the emergency room, triage was swift. The ER staff did everything possible to help get me stabilized. There were lung x-rays, lab tests, and they gave me the complete go over. They knew about my lupus and asthma and my daily steroid dependency (7 mg), and had my medical history from a previous visit. My ever-ready list of medications was pulled from my purse for the doctor. Eventually, the emergency room physician came back to announce my CT-Scan showed deep Covid-19 pneumonia in both lungs. Given a choice to go home or be admitted, but feeling overwhelmingly horrible, there was no way going home would work. It seemed odd they even suggested going home as an option at that point.
Searching the doctor eyes my request was, “would you please admit me? I cannot care for myself, and my husband is too sick to take care of me!” Was there really a choice? My husband was still struggling to get better, and was very worried my health would continue worsening. We had just lost his mother to Covid-19 with a cytokine storm destroying her organs a couple of months earlier, so the potential risk seemed all too real.
The ER doctor admitted me, explaining it would probably be for just a couple of days until my symptoms stabilized. That was late on a Sunday night. It was not until Friday morning that it became possible to start dictating this article into my phone from my hospital bed. (Just now, this is finally being published!) During the week in-between there was a whole lot of sickness going on!
The first couple of days were incredibly difficult one of the most unbearable in my memory. A blinding headache was untouched by my normal pain medication (Tramadol) and overwhelmed me for two sleepless days and nights. Coping with the intense pain and discomfort came only through prayer. God’s comfort and presence could carry me through this excruciating pain, and he answered by giving me a strong sense of His immediate presence and protection comforting me. This situation was well beyond my control, but not beyond God’s ability to loan me His strength to endure a few otherwise unbearable days. Clinging to God’s throne of grace, He gave abundant mercy by supplying my lack in a helpless and difficult time of need.
Waiting to see what the next day would hold, my determination was to trust the Lord that he knew what was best for me, even with worsening Covid. Lupus was not a choice, nor was getting Covid. There was nothing within my power to change that fact. After months of doing everything possible to care for my lupus while dodging the coronavirus, it seemed inevitable that at some point Covid would catch me. But even in my Covid illness, there was still a great cause for gratefulness that my Covid came a full nine months into the horrible pandemic. Rather than getting sick with it at the beginning, it was much better to be sick after the medical community found standards of treatment and knew enough to improve the outcomes for hospitalized patients.
In the middle of my stay, the talk of sending me home was started. But, waking the next morning with a new fever of 101 and worsening breathing problems, that quickly changed. The Covid and pneumonia were suddenly getting worse. This was somewhat ironic, since for the first time since being admitted, my sleep that night had been deep, refreshing, and lasted a full eight hours! But, also waking with brain fog and malaise, my assumption was that Lupus was was beginning to stir into activity and might show itself in the mix with Covid.
So, there were going to be a few more days in the hospital. The treatment provided by the nurses and doctors in the Covid unit was compassionate and caring. The remainder of my stay became more bearable, and soon it was obvious improvement was underway.
This was just the beginning of a long-hauler experience post Covid! Covid-19 and Lupus were waiting to join forces in the coming weeks, and the virus was not nearly done with me yet! The weeks and months that followed eventually redirected the course of my health and career and prompted some major life decisions.
Just now, two years later, after many partially drafted but never published posts, “the rest of the story” is long overdue.
Written by Lupus Adventurer
on Mar 29, 2023
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