CoVid experience from November

I said that I would share my CoVid experience and I'm finally going to do it.  First, a comment made by someone gave me the impression that some people are tired of hearing about my medical stuff.   If that's the case, it's fine if people don't want to read my blog.  Also, if I talk about it too much, it's because that's what I do all day long.  Med schedules, doctor appointments, trying to find doctors, investigating doctors, calling places more than once because no one gets back to me, getting blood drawn, only seeing medical people and new illnesses popping up that I need to figure out. I don't go out places or see my friends. I can't do so many of the things I enjoy. This is my life, so it's what I talk about. It might be hard to hear, but it's even harder to live. This virus and GVHD have changed everything. 

In November, on a Saturday, I developed a slight cough.  I knew exactly what it was.  Sunday, the cough was gone and I felt fine.  Monday I woke up with a fever and went to get tested.  I was okay for the next few days and started to have more labored breathing.  I already have GVHD in my lungs so it was very hard to determine what was happening.  Friday morning was bad and I started to pass out on the toilet, but I've learned through the years to lay down when that feeling hits.  I curled up on the bath mat and I was yelling for Lee.  Lee called Boston and they said to go to the ER.  I'll leave out all the gorey details of getting to the hospital. 

I was taken into a room and so much started happening at once.  The doctor called on a phone and I have no idea what he was saying.  I was scared, I was sick and I didn't know what was happening.  I realise now that most people, even the medical professionals, didn't know what was happening.  The nurse who was with me was giving me shots and told me what they were, but I have no recollection what was really going on.  I do remember one doctor asking me if I wanted to be put on a ventilator, if it came to that.  I couldn't believe I was hearing those questions about me.  I remember crying to my sisters and saying, "What did I ever do to deserve all this"?  It was horrible!  I was pissed.  I'm still pissed.

Eventually, I was brought up to a room.  The transport person covered me with a white sheet, which freaked me out, and then i realized the covid ward was also the geriatric ward.  Fuck NO!  Then I was put in the room with someone who had infections and again..a big fuck NO! They ignored me.  I was physically shaking.  The room was terrible and how dare we treat our elderly so poorly.  I talked to my roommate when she would get agitated and I was able to tell the nurses that she liked orange juice. I knew she was catholic so I said a prayer with her.  I wonder if I was put in the room with her for a reason.  We did okay together.  She passed away a couple weeks later and I think of her often.

The day after I was admitted, I was released.  The goofy doctor (that is the most polite word I could find to use) told me that I was kicking covid butt.  I had received the plasma etc., but come to find out one of the treatments was never completed.  The plasma was also a slight problem because of all my different blood types.  The supervisor of the blood bank took care of my stuff personally.  I had more than one person tell me that I'm special.  Well, I know that!!

This is only part one, because I was admitted into the hospital again in less then a week.  It was bad.  Part 2 to follow.

Peace out Peeps 😷

Not my photo, but awesome!