I Survived COVID-19

First, I felt nauseous. Then, I felt pain in my lower abdomen. My head began to ache, and I had a slight temperature. It was early April, during the peak of the coronavirus outbreak, but I still didn't consider COVID-19 as a possible diagnosis. After all, I had taken every precaution to avoid the virus.

My husband and I rarely went out in public because of the pandemic. On rare occasions, we ventured out to Costco during senior hours wearing N95 masks and gloves. We even wiped down our groceries when we got home.

The nagging symptoms persisted, however, and I didn't have an appetite. I lost my sense of taste and smell. Finally, after a week of feeling rotten, I eventually went to the ER and tested positive for COVID-19. I was discharged that day and given strict orders to return to the hospital if I experienced any shortness of breath.

When I got home that night a girlfriend of mine, who is also a nurse, brought me a pulse oximeter she'd rushed out to purchase. Her timing couldn't have been better. I struggled to sleep soundly in a spare bedroom away from my husband as a precaution— a few days later he also tested positive for COVID-19, but was asymptomatic — and checked the pulse oximeter throughout the night.

My readings ran in the low- to mid-80s. Although those saturation levels were alarming, I hesitated to go to the hospital because I didn't want to take up a bed when healthcare resources were stretched so thin. I was also healthy and worked out every day. If I did have the virus, couldn't I just self-isolate until it ran its course?

Eventually, I called my doctor and was convinced I needed to go back to the hospital. The day after my initial emergency room visit, I returned. This time I was admitted with COVID-19 and viral pneumonia.

It was a terrifying moment, and I thought it could be my end. More than 100,000 people in the U.S. have died from COVID-19, and I knew how quickly patients, particularly older patients, could take a turn for the worse. At this point, there are no good predictors of whom the virus impacts the most.

I was one of the lucky ones.

Within the span of an hour, an infected patient's entire respiratory system could be jeopardy. In the hospital, my breathing became labored. I couldn't take a deep breath without dry coughing, which is common among COVID-19 patients. At that point, I had to let go of any sense of control and accept that I was just a patient who was fully dependent on her caretakers.

The treatment for COVID-19 is essentially a race between the virus and the immune system. To give my immune system a boost, I was given a course of hydroxychloroquine, a malaria drug that has shown some promise in altering the immune system, slowing the virus's replication and combatting the virus in its early stages. The drug hasn't been approved by the FDA, and we don't have enough objective research on its effectiveness. Plus, caregivers need to be vigilant to watch for changes in the patient's heart rate. In addition to the hydroxychloroquine, I was given oxygen at a 2.5-liter flow rate, a subcutaneous dose of enoxaparin to decrease the chance of blood clot formation and an incentive spirometer to keep my lungs active. I was also told to lay prone five times a day for 20 minutes each time to promote inflation of my dorsal alveoli. During this time, I fully understood the gravity of the situation I was in. I had to will myself to stay positive, force myself to eat, use my spirometer and lay prone. It's hard to explain how exhausted this virus makes you feel. I have never felt anything close to the fatigue I felt from COVID-19.

I was hospitalized for a week. My care was excellent. Nurses came into my room for visits, and doctors visited at least daily. But I was in isolation, and it was lonely. I spent a lot of time staring off into space. The virus made me feel so tired that I didn't have the energy to do much else. What I remember most about my time in the hospital room was looking out the window and watching the sky slowly change from day to night, and from night to day. I could almost tell exactly what time it was by the clearness and color of the sky. It made me realize the universe was much bigger than me and that I was just a tiny grain of sand in the world. Somehow, realizing how insignificant I was in the grand scheme of things helped take my mind off the reality that COVID-19 was invading my body. Watching the sky was very calming for me.

After six days in the hospital, both the hydroxychloroquine and oxygen were discontinued, my EKG and blood work were normal, and I was told I could recover at home. Even after discharge, I was far from feeling better. In fact, it took more than a month from the moment I started experiencing symptoms until I felt like myself again. Still, I know I'm one of the lucky ones. I survived COVID-19 with a story to tell — and a new perspective on life and the patient experience. OSM