Dave
After catching COVID-19, I was on a ventilator for 14 days. Doctors said I had a 15% chance of surviving. I’m 68 years old. I have no underlying conditions. But, I beat the odds. Here’s my story and why I think I made it.
LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK: I wasn't worried that I would get COVID-19, but I do remember thinking that if I did get it, it would probably be a mild case and I could beat it. I never dreamed that I would get it that bad.
It started at home with a fever and a cough. I called my family doctor, Dr. Colleen Daly, and told her. She said, “Get right to the hospital.” I thought I’d be there for a few days, get a little oxygen, some medication and then I’d be out. They gave me two courses of hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin. I ran a 103 fever that they treated by giving me Tylenol and icing me down.
But, my oxygen needs increased dramatically and my lung function continued to decrease, so doctors decided to intubate me at about two in the afternoon on March 25th as my condition worsened. When I looked at my phone later, I saw that I texted my wife, Mary Jane, “They're going to intubate me today.” Once intubated, everything was blank for the next 14 or 15 days. They proned me, so I was lying on my stomach much of the time and gave me an injectable blood thinner, Lovenox, to help prevent clotting and strokes.
Meanwhile, my wife also tested positive for COVID-19. She had milder symptoms for a shorter duration and didn't have to be hospitalized.
The doctors were honest and forthcoming with information. Dr. Daly told my wife when I went on the ventilator that the prognosis was not good. “He's not breathing well. His oxygen saturation is low.” It didn't get better. In fact, it got worse. Going into week two, Dr. Daly shared that the mortality rate for patients in my condition were nearing 85%. At which point they started digging out the wills and the family trust and trying to get into my computer to find my passwords and contact my financial guy and prepare my family and siblings for the fact that I might not make it.
Outside my room at Winthrop hospital nurses and nurses' aides were working unspeakable hours with hundreds of people overflowing out of the ICU into other units that were converted into COVID-19 units. There were 150 people on ventilators at the same time as me. Many of them died.
I got a lot of support from all over the country: prayers from Florida to Maine, from New York to California and everywhere in between... Indiana, Chicago, Dallas. I have family and friends in all these cities. I had prayers from my Catholic friends, my Jewish friends, my Protestant friends, and my atheist friends. My sister Nancy, a very spiritual person, now living in California, contacted some Reiki healers who did some body work on my behalf. She also enlisted an energy healer who incorporated many tools including sound frequencies, the Akash, and affirmations to keep my body’s needs supported day to day. A couple of ladies did this Balinese, Shiva Murti healing modality. My sister and her son and daughter and their significant others did a Native American healing circle of prayer.
I'm not here to tell you that I believe in all of this stuff, but it's sort of the chicken soup concept. It couldn't hurt. I think all of these things worked together from a spiritual point of view to support me and help me get through it.
On top of that, when I was on the vent, a very wonderful nurse named Amy, who is a friend of my daughter, would visit with me on and off shift. I do believe that even when you're in a drug induced coma you can hear. She would hold the phone up to my ear so my wife and my three children could talk to me, play music from our favorite musicians like Billy Joel and Boz Scaggs, and play videos of my children and my grandchildren talking and singing.
My kids grew up listening to Raffi music and my grandchildren have all grown up listening to it too. It's part of the fabric of our family from a music point of view. My middle son, Dan, has a daughter named Birdie who likes to sing and on day 13 they played a video with Birdie singing Raffi’s “Baby Beluga.” This was the first time I opened my eyes! They tried a couple of times to remove the tube while I was intubated, but either I wasn’t strong enough or wasn't breathing enough on my own. That day they decided they couldn’t leave the tube in. They thought they may have to give me a tracheostomy. Here’s a short explanation of what that means from the doctor who lead that team at the hospital that treated me:
“All patients on a ventilator initially have air delivered to them via an endotracheal tube, which is inserted through the mouth and into the windpipe. The procedure usually requires patients to be unconscious—often, for two or three weeks. Many of these patients do not survive. For those that do, at around the three-week point, the protocol is to perform a tracheostomy. A trach, in medical argot, is a tube surgically inserted through the throat. Trachs allow most patients to wake up. Over time, this is better for the body.” (Zach Helfand, The New Yorker)
My doctor and Mary Jane asked if they could give me a chance to breathe on my own before performing the tracheostomy. They did and I started breathing on my own — not very well, but I was breathing on my own. I opened my eyes and saw the top of a pine tree out my window. That day I texted my wife, “I'm here. I'm okay. And I gotta let you know, I'm going to be here awhile.” But, I knew I would be okay.
Those first few days after being extubated, I was disoriented and pretty stoned on all the drugs they gave me. I slept a lot as I came off all those drugs. Your system is cleansing itself. I breathed with the aid of a CPAP device, had a feeding tube and multiple IVs. I had pressure cuffs on my legs to prevent blood clots. I did everything that I could to get the cuffs off my legs and the tubes out of my arms because they annoyed me. So, my daughter arranged for a watch nurse in my room for a few days to prevent me from doing those things.
I hadn't had a shave in about 16 or 17 days, so I looked kind of mangy. I hadn't showered in 18 days which is by far the longest stretch of my life. My hair stuck straight out because it was so dirty. I hadn't brushed my teeth for 17 or 18 days - disgusting.
A fabulous aid named Leon, a big bear of a man, came in and gave me a shave with an electric razor which felt great. And then my wife sent up my toiletries and stuff.
Dave recovering at the hospital after waking up from 13 days in coma.
Dave after his first shave after coming out of the coma.
When you're in bed and you have all these tubes and you can't get out of bed, you rely on people to help to do everything. You feel you're not in control. And when I started brushing my teeth, combing my hair, as dirty as it was, I felt like I was taking control of my life back.
They sent me to St. Charles in Port Jefferson for rehab. I took three steps in my first PT session. But I gave it up to God. I just said, “You know whatever happened to me happened. Now let's get better.”
I worked very hard in rehab for 16 days. By then I wanted to get out of there and get home.
Dave with his wife, children, and grandchildren when he came home from the hospital.
Thirty-four was my dad’s lucky number and became the family lucky number. It was on my mom and dad’s honeymoon suite, the last two digits of my dad’s medical license, and the number of the house we grew up in. My birthday is March 4th (3/4) and my youngest grandson Bobby was born on March 4. I was in the hospital for 34 days. I returned home on May 7th to a wonderful homecoming with all my children and grandchildren.
I didn't get to take a shower until I got into rehab. So now we're talking 34 days of no showers. That first shower was like, “Oh my God.” Again, I felt like I was taking control of my life back.
About a week later, my wife said, “Come on out in front of the house and visit with the grandchildren.” We still didn't want to get in too much close contact. I was out in the front lawn and suddenly a local fire truck came around the corner, blaring his siren and beeping his horn, followed by a parade of people from Long Island Cares with a couple of the big trucks they use to deliver food to our food pantries. There was local news there and it was just a show of support that I appreciated so much.
They all had signs made up and put them on the lawn in front of my house. After a day I said to my wife, Mary Jane, “I feel like I want to take those signs down because there's probably people who live on our block who died.” I felt a little guilty about it. There's other people who didn't make it.
I didn't know what I had gone through fully. Over time, especially when I got home and went through all Mary Jane's 15–20 pages of notes, I began to understand somewhat what occurred. I couldn't take it all in through one session so we read two or three pages at a time. I had no idea how severe it all was until then.
Dave and his wife, Mary Jane, reviewed her 15-20 pages of notes of what happened while he was sick over the course of several days.
Both Mary Jane and I have some level of post-traumatic stress without a doubt. I would guess my children do as well. I talked to a therapist. Mary Jane speaks to a therapist, but most importantly we talk to each other about it. We’ve been told that is one of the best things to do. So on many nights, we'll sit on a patio and look up at the blue sky and the trees and talk about what we both went through. We play some of the same music that they played when I was in the hospital, which are some of my favorites, talk about the different doctors and nurses who helped us along the way, and review her notes. Mary Jane explains how much our children supported her and shared in the experience. It has proven to be very, very therapeutic for the both of us.
In rehab, you don't measure your progress from day to day. You measure week to week, month to month. When I arrived, I couldn't even get out of bed. I couldn't stand up on my own. I was skinny. I had lost 45 pounds. By the time I left rehab, I could walk half a block. I couldn’t go up and down stairs without assistance. But, within a couple of days, I put the cane away. I never used the walker. I started riding my Peloton again, taking longer walks, going to rehab three days a week, exercising three other days a week, maybe taking one day off a week. Now, I can walk five or six miles. I can walk 18 holes of golf. I can ride a bike for 25 miles. I can lift weights. My upper body strength is as good or better than it was before I was sick.
Dave on his Peloton bike after returning home from the hospital. Working on it every day enabled him to rebuild himself physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I basically have come out of this unscathed. I had no blood clots. I had no stroke. I had no permanent damage to my heart. All of my heart functions are normal. There was no permanent damage to my lungs. There was no permanent damage to my kidneys. I have no cognitive issues. It’s pretty miraculous.
So I beat those odds and I have a couple of theories on why I beat it.
The health of my lungs and my heart from quitting smoking in 1979 and taking up running for decades and then rowing and riding my Peloton bike 4-5 times a week for the past 4-5 years.
The support from my family and friends: my wife, three sisters, brother, mom, kids, grandkids and hundreds of golf and business friends.
The support of a lot of doctors, a lot of nurses, a lot of nurses aids, but especially Dr. Daly. She could tell me to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge and I would do it because I just trust her so much. She and the rest of the team saved my life.
Also, to the people at Peloton because working hard on that bike for 45 minutes every day really does build up your heart and your muscles. It enabled me to rebuild myself physically and mentally and emotionally to get through this and come out on the other side.
Sometimes, I feel guilty for being alive knowing that many didn’t make it. As bad as it was for me, it was 10 times worse for my wife and my children never knowing if the next day they were going to get that call from the hospital. They all knew that that was a very real possibility. The fact that that didn't happen fills my heart with so much gratitude. I have an immense gratitude for being alive.
SYMPTOMS: Cough, fever, arrhythmia, low oxygen, loss of taste and smell, which recently returned!
TREATMENT: Lovenox, oxygen, ventilator, proning, Hydroxychloroquine (Plaquenil), Tylenol, ice, Azithromycin, XARELTO
2 Year Update
LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK — MARCH 28, 2022: "I am luckily nearly 100%, physically. My pulmonologist, who I see regularly, says I still have some scarring in my lungs, which should heal over time. The emotional scars still exist… but are also getting better…it was a difficult time for me and my family, especially my wife. I haven’t been diagnosed with anything post-Covid and I don’t have any lingering symptoms now. Luckily, I haven’t had Covid again. Looking back, If I knew that Covid would hit this bad, I would have worn a mask. Otherwise, my life is mainly unchanged since March 2020, except for the usual reduction of social activities… like crowds and such. I have enormous gratitude and an appreciation for the fragility of life, after COVID and I am hoping for an end to this pandemic.”
Dave Cassaro is currently President of Dave Cassaro, Consultant, LLC, a Long Island-based consulting practice that focuses on media, marketing, sales, & executive search. Dave Cassaro joined NBC Universal in January 2011 as President, Cable Advertising Sales, where he was responsible for cable entertainment and digital advertising sales for NBC Universal managing a portfolio of over $3.5 billion in advertiser sales and a staff of over 500 professionals. Previously, Dave was President of Comcast Network Advertising Sales, where he oversaw advertising sales for Comcast’s national networks. Before that, he served as Senior Executive Vice President of E! Networks, Vice President of Eastern Sales for Fox Broadcasting Company, and was at CBS Television Network serving in a variety of affiliate relations and advertiser sales positions. Cassaro has served as Chairman of the Cable Advertising Bureau (CAB), and also served on the Board of Directors of the IRTS (International Radio & Television Society) and City Meals on Wheels. He currently serves as Board President for Long Island Cares, The Harry Chapin Food Bank. A native New Yorker, Dave Cassaro is a graduate of Marist College with a Bachelor of Arts in communication arts. He currently resides in Garden City with his wife Mary Jane and their dog Flounder. They have three adult children, Michael, Daniel & Emily and five Grandchildren: James, Grace, Mary Clare, Birdie and Bobby. Dave is an avid golfer and cyclist & enjoys fishing and exercise.