VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA: I watched as Covid spread around the world and knew it was serious, but when the local schools closed in the middle of March, I stopped going to the gym, did more online shopping, and limited my interactions with people outside my family.

Then, I developed severe headaches and a high fever. After several days, I woke up with difficulty breathing, and it was time to go to the hospital. My Covid test came back positive.

“No Way!” I said, not believing this was happening to me.

My condition deteriorated. Breathing became more difficult, and my heart was working overtime. On March 29, a medical team in PPE came into my room, and my doctor said they were going to put me on a ventilator. I was put to sleep and awoke on May 3 when I was taken off the machine.

I remember crazy dreams and waking up to find myself tied down to keep me from pulling out the tubes and wires connected to me. The doctor came in and explained that he’d chosen to put me on the ventilator earlier than usual because my heart valves were working so hard that they’d begun to fail. My heart needed a rest.

He said that when he left his shift after they put me on a ventilator, I was in terrible shape, and he wasn’t sure I’d make it through the night. But, when he returned, I’d made a dramatic improvement. After six days, my heart was recovering, and they took me off the ventilator. My condition kept improving, and I began the real work of recovery.

Physical therapists weren’t allowed in the hospital, so I began doing my own recovery routines with help from friends in the field. I did breathing exercises to build up my lungs. I moved my legs in bed, then sat up and slowly started to walk. I was finally able to walk for six minutes, but my heart rate was through the roof. My doctor said I couldn’t go home until the heart rate came down.

I was devastated. I wanted out of there. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t quit, who takes problems and breaks them down into little steps and then works through each step until the problem is solved. But getting through Covid was a bigger problem than any I’d ever faced. There were times when I didn’t want to go on, but I said, “no! I’m going home!”

I began pestering my nurse to let me go. But, she said she had orders to release me when my heart rate dropped to an acceptable level, and I wasn’t going anywhere until that happened. “Do whatever you have to do to make that happen,” she said.

We went back and forth for several hours until she came in with a surprised look on her face and asked me, “What did you do? Your heart rate has dropped.” 

I looked back at her and smiled, “Just playing solitaire on my phone.”

The nurse disappeared and a little later returned with a bunch of forms to sign, saying, “Call your husband. You’re getting out of here.”

I thought she was putting me on, but no. Hours later, I was home, collapsed on my couch.

I’d been in the hospital for thirteen days. It was tough realizing that I’d missed my son’s twelfth birthday, and my husband, who’d had a much milder case of Covid, had been struggling to watch over me and take care of the kids. But I was grateful for all the support I’d been given by family and friends and the doctors and nurses who’d attended me. 

I began taking little steps to recover. First, I walked to the bathroom, then made lunch in the kitchen, then walked out to the mailbox, and finally around the block. After one month back home, my heart has nearly fully recovered. In the beginning, my hair was falling out in clumps, but after three months, that stopped. I’m still suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue and have to lie down. Recovery has been very hard, and there are times when I have wanted to give up, but I keep going because of my kids.

I realized that many of my friends were not taking Covid seriously. It isn’t real unless it lands on your doorstep. But Covid is not the flu. It can kill you, and the recovery process is very difficult. I did a lengthy post on Facebook about my experience and I was surprised at the response it created. Many of my friends are now believers, wearing masks and taking precautions to isolate themselves.

Surviving Covid has pushed me to reconsider my life. I'm not exactly sure how I caught covid, but we think I caught Covid from one of the kids in my daycare center. Some had symptoms but were never tested. I’ve decided to close my doors at the end of July. I’m studying for my real estate license. We’re fortunate that my husband still has a job and a paycheck coming in.

Covid has taught me to enjoy the moment, have the piece of cake, the dishes can wait, say YES to new experiences. The big one for me is "me time"! Even if it's painting my nails or sitting in the driveway eating lunch with a friend. I’ve become more mellow, letting little things go.

I’ve learned to listen to my body. When I need to rest, I rest. I do have Graves Disease, and Covid seems to have thrown my thyroid gland out of whack, but we’re working on getting the medications back in balance.

Why did I survive Covid?

I guess I’m just feisty.

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