Stephanie
QUEENS, NEW YORK: It all began with a persistent, dull headache. “You must be stressed at work” people would say. It was a stressful time. NYC was getting emptier by the day.
On April Fool’s Day I had a feeling I should take my temp. The thermometer read 99.4 and I began to cry. I knew that was the beginning for me. For the next 7 days I meticulously logged all symptoms, vitamins and supplements. My temperature fluctuated wildly, sometimes within minutes.
I convinced myself my vitamin regimen would be the answer to a potential cure. I also convinced myself I had a sinus infection. Not once did I cough or have SOB so I must not have Covid! Then, as I was furiously spraying every inch of my apartment with lavender Lysol (not a great scent btw) it happened; sense of smell was gone! I frantically ran to the bathroom and opened every shampoo, lotion and perfume bottle I could find: Nothing; so much of nothing.
At this point my fiancé and I decided I should quarantine from him and our cats. I sobbed as I spoke to multiple Drs on a Telehealth app that cost $15/session. At the time everything and nothing was coronavirus. Testing was not an option and the New York Times had just started speculating that taste and smell may be affected.
I convinced a Dr. I must have a sinus infection! With this I was prescribed an antibiotic that dropped my temp from 103 to 101 in an hour! I thought, “I figured it out! It’s a sinus infection and definitely not Corona!” I mean what where the odds? That night I went to the ER.
I woke up in the early hours of 4/8, at about 1:30am. I was on the couch and just didn’t feel right. I immediately started taking vitals. All normal except temperature. Still, something was off. I lowly sang, Lady Gaga’s “Shallow” to check my lung capacity and was able to quietly belt it out. I rolled back onto the couch, “If I feel weird in the morning I’ll go to the ER”, I thought. That’s when the voice spoke to me, twice. “Get up and go to the hospital”, he said.
I called my fiancé in the other room and told him to pack a bag. By the time we got into our Uber, masked and hermetically sealed, I was having respiratory effort. I left the cab and waved goodbye to my fiancé with a stoicism that does not exist during emergent times. I walked into the ER, sat down and told the Triage Nurses why I was there. They took my vitals and I asked, “What’s my SPO2?”. “84%”, they told me. “But I was 95% at home?!”
The next 12 hours were filled with texts to various friends and family but mostly to my fiancé, Ash. I even sent him pictures of me on Bi-pap, high flow oxygen. I do not remember any of this and can only speak on it from what people have told and shown me.
8 days later I woke up, in a different hospital, from a ventilator. I was surrounded by Drs and Nursing staff, clapping and crying. “You’re alive! Praise God”! I was alive but I was also paralyzed and suffering from an acute case of sepsis and ICU delirium. The next 8 days were a test of my patience, tenacity and humility as the staff bathed me, changed me and repeatedly drew blood. All this done between hallucinations, bodies passing by on gurneys and my having no sense of time.
I feared sleep and fought it for the first 5 days off the ventilator. What if I didn’t wake up? What if I experienced lifelike night terrors like I did while ventilated? I was made to wear a makeshift sleep mask; nothing worked.
The next 12 hours were filled with texts to various friends and family but mostly to my fiancé, Ash. I even sent him pictures of me on Bi-pap, high flow oxygen. I do not remember any of this and can only speak on it from what people have told and shown me. 8 days later I woke up, in a different hospital, from a ventilator. I was surrounded by Drs and Nursing staff, clapping and crying. “You’re alive! Praise God”! I was alive but I was also paralyzed and suffering from an acute case of sepsis and ICU delirium. The next 8 days were a test of my patience, tenacity and humility as the staff bathed me, changed me and repeatedly drew blood. All this done between hallucinations, bodies passing by on gurneys and my having no sense of time.
I feared sleep and fought it for the first 5 days off the ventilator. What if I didn’t wake up? What if I experienced lifelike night terrors like I did while ventilated? I was made to wear a makeshift sleep mask; nothing worked.
I finally regained some strength to walk, go to the bathroom and eventually shower with the help of a shower chair. 3 days before my 40th birthday I was discharged, “Here Comes the Sun” blared 3 times over the loudspeaker! I still cannot hear that song without crying. The man I left behind 16 1/2 days prior was standing there, waiting for me. My tears didn’t come until a few days later and haven’t stopped much since.
A lot of people don’t realize the major implications of post Covid syndrome. The headaches for 350 days now, the sudden tachycardia and the crippling PTSD. I am happy to say I have received my first dose of a Covid vaccine. Something I was dreading and also excited for. It made me sick like Covid did in the early days of my illness. It was a wild 3 days of feeling how I felt almost a year ago. My second shot is scheduled for 4/1 (April Fool’s Day), 1 year exactly. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate my survival.