MOBILE, ALABAMA: The first week of March 2020, I returned from a work trip, passing through 3 different airports. A week later, while working out, I was suddenly fatigued. This was unusual for me, I was in great shape, and I put the tiredness off to travel. I wasn’t paying any attention to the news about Covid, and it never occurred to me that I might catch it. People in Mobile thought that Covid was overblown; it wasn’t going to happen here.

But I got sicker. I went to urgent care and tested negative for the flu. I didn’t have a temperature, but urgent care told me to get tested for Covid. That’s when I started to take Covid seriously. I sought out stories of people with Covid who had symptoms similar to my own.

My condition worsened, and I went to the ER. There was a big triage tent set up outside, and people sat, spaced apart in chairs, waiting to be interviewed. I felt woozy, having difficulty keeping my head up when a doctor came to talk with me. He couldn’t test me for Covid but said I was presumptive positive and sent me home with an inhaler. 

2 days later, I couldn’t get out of bed. My fiance looked for Covid testing sites but couldn’t find any. Finally, I went to another hospital and was admitted because my blood oxygen level was dangerously low. I was tested for Covid, but that result took more than two weeks to come back positive.

My condition confused the hospital staff. I was too young to have Covid. My body ached; I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I’d lost my senses of taste and smell, had a high heart rate, and difficulty breathing. After 4 days, I was sent home with another inhaler.

2 weeks later, struggling to regain strength, I passed out trying to walk in the backyard with my fiance. He took me to the ER again, but we were told that there was no room in the hospital to admit me. Covid had come to Mobile.

I couldn’t get an appointment with a GP; no one was taking new patients. Then, one day I got a call from a hospital nurse asking me if I wanted to donate antibody blood plasma. I told her I was still sick and couldn’t get in to see a doctor. She was very kind and arranged a doctor’s appointment for me. I was tested again for Covid, and this result was negative.

Great, I thought, but I’m feeling terrible. There were blood tests, scans, and x-rays, but all seemed normal. I think the medical people were doing their best; they simply didn’t know much about Covid yet.

Pain relievers did not help. After 2 months, I’d had enough and went to a pulmonologist. He discovered that my heart was not getting enough oxygen. I was tested for Covid again, and this result was positive. I was shocked, positive-negative-positive. What’s going on?

I was told to return to the hospital, that I would be admitted with my positive Covid test. But my symptoms were not severe enough, and I was sent home.

By this point, I was losing it. My fiance decided to take me to the research hospital at the University of Alabama Birmingham. At the ER there, I was tested twice more for Covid, and both results were negative. However, my doctor knew there was something wrong and said they were going to figure it out. There were more tests, all inconclusive, but a day later, I had difficulty breathing. That night, my body seized up, and I was in and out of consciousness. My medical team struggled to find a way to stabilize my condition. I was the youngest patient in the Covid unit; everyone else was over 65. I thought that was it; Covid had got me. I was wheeled in for an emergency CT scan and lost consciousness.

I awoke the next day, and a doctor came in to explain what had happened. The scan had revealed that half of my lungs had collapsed. This condition was reparable, but I was scared. I was moved to another unit in the hospital and began breathing therapies. I never tested positive for Covid again. 

I remember my mom coming to take me home from the hospital. I’d been in isolation for weeks, and it was great to see someone not wearing a hazmat suit. I left with instructions to work on rebuilding my lungs.

When I got back on a stationary bike, I lasted about 30 seconds. This shocked me; I’d been so fit before Covid, running six miles a day. But I kept working with my physical therapist and also began seeing a nutritionist to improve my diet. I still had no sense of taste or smell and wasn’t eating well.

After weeks of being in my isolated Covid bubble, my fiance drove me around Mobile to check what was happening with the rest of the world. I was freaked to see closed businesses and people wearing masks. Then I started having what seemed like seizures, episodes which lasted about 45 minutes, and my body just shut down, leaving me completely exhausted. Neurology tests were inconclusive. 

What was happening to me? Other family members had gone through Covid and completely recovered, but not me. I was still experiencing symptoms that were explained as “post-Covid.” That wasn’t enough for me, and I got an appointment at the Mayo Clinic.

After studying my case, a neurologist there suggested that the episodes of my body shutting down were not seizures but more likely panic attacks. He said this was good news, but I didn’t want to hear it. I had a lot of misconceptions about anxiety attacks and have learned a lot since.

I spent five weeks getting treatment at the Mayo Clinic. Fortunately, my fiance’s parents lived nearby, and I was able to stay with them. If you want to get to really know your in-laws, live with them for a month. They were great! Near the end of this time, I had an episode during a treadmill test, and the doctors observed what was happening to me. I began working with mental health professionals, something I’d never considered, but realized I needed to talk about my Covid experience.

I’m now seven months into recovery, slowly rebuilding my lung capacity and strength. I can do 10 minutes on the stationary bike, but sudden fatigue still overwhelms me. The loss of consciousness episodes have stopped. Although all my symptoms have yet to be explained, I’ve learned that others experience similar difficulties. I’ve started back to work and am immensely grateful for all the support my employer has given me.

During all this time, my fiance never showed any Covid symptoms. We were supposed to be married this past October but put that on hold. Now we’re thinking perhaps October 2021, although when it happens doesn’t seem so important anymore. Still, I look forward to a time when all our family and friends can be safely together again.

Covid has taught me a lot. I’m more humble, knowing I can’t go full tilt anymore. I’m more patient and have a deeper understanding of real-world problems.

I want other young people to know that if I, a healthy 27-year-old, caught Covid and nearly died, they can too. I want them to know that wearing a mask is the decent thing to do, and it can help prevent others from catching this terrible disease.