WILMINGTON, NORTH CAROLINA - July 31, 2020:  I knew Covid was real, but I didn't think we could get it. I was living in an imaginary world where I thought it's in New York, and they deal with everything. They get stuff all the time. And then, of course, a lot of the stories were in Seattle. So I thought it's not going to come to North Carolina. We’re in the country. It's okay. So that's how I felt at first. I was not going to be bothered; and when they started shutting things down, I wondered why they were shutting down events. Is it this bad? I thought it was the flu, and I had the flu shot. So, what’re the chances of me getting this? I kind of took it very lightly. I still went on to a concert when it first started. They closed the bar, but we were not going to the bar anyway. I didn’t think it was going to get this bad.

I know for sure that I got it at work because I went to the concert three weeks prior.  I went to work on Monday; and that evening when I got home, my throat was hurting. Earlier that day I was riding with the window down so I thought it might be allergies. My throat was hurting. No big deal. I went to sleep, woke up and my throat was still hurting. I noticed that my forehead was warm. I had a fever and said, “Oh my God, please don't tell me that  I caught this virus!” That was my first thought. There's no way I got it. It's just allergies; it’s no big deal. But then I developed a major headache.

I knew that when I had a sinus infection, a headache was one of the things that I would get. I called my doctor and asked if I could come in. I have this fever, and my head is hurting, but I think it is from riding with the window down yesterday. They said okay but don’t come inside.  And so they thought I have this virus too. Before I knew it, they were sticking the swab in the nose. I thought they're not testing me for this virus. There’s no way!. They were going to test me for the flu and strep throat. I said, “No, It’s just sinuses. I just need some medicine for my head because I’m allergic to anything over the counter.”  

I can't take Tylenol. I can’t take Aleve, so I said I was just there to get some relief from my headache. They looked at me strangely when I was talking to them. They called the doctor back out who said, “Can you please just take the flu and strep throat test?  I said, “Okay, I’ll take it.”  They said because you have a fever, we want you to quarantine for seven days after your fever breaks. I said, “Okay! No problem.” They sent a note to my job, and I called the secretary and told her, “My doctor’s going to take me out of work. They think I could be contagious, and they want me to stay out for at least seven days. They didn’t say that I have Covid, but they acted like I have it.”  The secretary said, “Three other people are out too. They have it.”

So she was telling me that I probably had this virus along with three other people. At that point, my bosses and everyone started freaking out, and they shut down the office immediately.  The next day, two other coworkers lost their senses of smell and taste.  Within a few days, six people were ill.  Then we tried to figure out what we had in common.  We had lunch together the week before, and we were not wearing masks.  There was one person who did not have lunch with us who was not sick, so that’s how I knew I got it at work. They tried to blame me because I went to the concert, but that was three weeks prior. We really couldn’t determine who brought it in because we all fell ill at the same time. No one started with symptoms before the other. 

When I had the test, I knew that I had Covid, and I didn’t really see why I should take the test.  Why did I need it? People just wanted it for numbers. I had the test just to confirm, and I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger. In the back of my mind, I didn’t want to take the test because I was terrified.  I was still in denial. I would stay up all night and read stuff nonstop, like how long the symptoms will last, what symptoms I could get and how long they could last.  Google became my best friend and my worst enemy at the same time. 

By that point, I had moved into the house with my dad because I could no longer do things for myself. I stopped eating because I lost my appetite, but I never lost my smell or taste. I was having trouble just getting from the bed, going to the bathroom, going to the couch. I would just stay in bed all day, and I would stay up all night because I was so scared if I fell asleep, I wasn't going to wake up. My dad didn’t feel comfortable leaving me alone, so he asked me to move into his house and quarantine at one end of the house and just stay there. By that time, I was getting a little irritable. I couldn't see anybody. He could see that I was getting stressed out, so he did pretty much did everything for me. He fed me, gave me my medicine, and watched while I tried different remedies.

I think it was two weeks into it, and I had been to the doctor about four times because every day I picked up new symptoms. So I went in one day, and they let me come into the office, and they checked my oxygen, and it was very low.  And then something was off with my blood pressure. The doctor did not feel comfortable sending me home because if something happened, I might not make it to the hospital since I lived 30 minutes from the hospital. I have asthma, and he called another doctor who recommended that I go to the hospital. They said, “Hey, just go in and let’s monitor you overnight and see how you’re doing.” 

When I drove myself to the hospital, my dad followed me because we did not ride together so I wouldn’t infect him. I pulled into the hospital lot and said, “I have to go in here by myself with no family. I have no one with me. Is this it? Am I going to go in there, and they will put me on a ventilator? If it’s serious enough for me to go to the hospital, this really might be it. I won’t have any control because I am going to be there by myself.  My mom and dad couldn’t speak on my behalf.” Those were my first thoughts because I had been reading all this stuff on Google. My worst fear was going to the hospital and not coming back home.

That was terrifying. I cried in the parking lot before I went in. And then, when I got in there, they gave me fluids because I was dehydrated at that point. I could barely talk to people, so I would text my friends who were very supportive. They kept me occupied throughout the night. My mom works at the hospital, but she couldn’t come into my room. It made me feel a little better when I knew she was down the hall on the same floor. She just couldn’t come into my room. 

She tells me now that it was heartbreaking not being able to see me.  She monitors heart patients, and they were monitoring my heart, but they didn't give me to her. Someone else was monitoring me, but one nurse opened the door so she could see me. She said it broke her heart not to be able to come in there. During the night, I was trying to go and take a shower, and my heart rate went up. The lady monitoring me had to call the nurse to come and check on me because my heart rate went up crazy.

So, my mom was sitting there and she heard the lady when she called the nurse; and of course, she started freaking out. She texted me, “Are you okay?”  I didn’t have my phone with me, so I could not respond. The nurse hadn't gotten there yet because they had to put on the protective gown. It was just bad. 

I hated the hospital. The hospital treated me so badly. Of course, the medical people were terrified and didn’t want to get sick. Some nurses were just completely afraid of me.  A daytime nurse wouldn't come in the room. She wouldn't do anything. She would call up and check on me if something was wrong.  If I needed more water, it would take four hours for her to bring me water. Because they want to stagger things so they can get everything done at one time, she would only come in when it was time to check vitals or give me my medicine. 

The first night I was there, I didn't even eat. They did not give me anything and crammed all these pills down my throat, and they were not doing anything. They just would not come into the room, but later that night, I had a different nurse, and she was sweet. She came running in there when my heart rate had gone up and was right near me.  She wasn't afraid at all, but some of them were horrible.  They were scared, but you still have to treat people decently. You can't just leave them in the room when they're asking for something. The day I was getting discharged, I told the nurse, I have diarrhea and this is not normal. She said, “I'll come in a minute, and I'll call the doctor.”  She never did it. They discharged me without even addressing it.  The doctor wouldn't come into the room. He would call over the phone. 

 

My family and one of my friends, Elizabeth, would call and check on me. Elizabeth and another friend who is a nurse would text me. So I could always text her if something was wrong or if I needed advice. Having my dad at home with me helped a lot because I didn't tell most of my family at first. I didn't tell them until I went into the hospital because I knew it was getting worse. No one else knew I was out of work, so I had my dad and my two best friends helping me. They called, and they would say, “Do you need anything?  I'll bring it to you.” When I was in the hospital, my friend said, “Call me on Facetime if you need someone to talk to.” Just having them in my corner and knowing my family was praying helped me a lot.

I grew up in the church, so God is the answer to everything. I kind of stopped being spiritual and going to church. I still believe in God, and I believe in prayer.  My grandma called me and said, “I stayed up all night. I prayed. I prayed. You’re going to get through. Then I prayed and said, “Lord, just please let me get through this.  I promise I’m going to do whatever I’m supposed to do.” I never did anything bad, so I felt He’d answer my prayer. I don't know when, but He'll answer it when I know it's right. So I think that's what pulled me through.  I would just sit up and talk to God, “Please let me get through this.”

The people and the doctors can't help me. The doctors have no answers, so God is the only one that could help me. Things changed, and I talk to him every day now. I thank Him for waking me up and getting me on my way. 

I would get hopeful when my fever would break, but then it would come back. When it broke, I thought I might be getting over this. I tested negative, and the shortness of breath stopped, so I felt sort of relieved. But, other than that, I kept having symptoms, and sometimes I felt like they were never going away.  I still have headaches. I’ve visited my doctor several times about that, but they don’t know what to do.  They just give me migraine medicine.  My vision has changed.  My eyes are always burning, and now I am dependent on my glasses where I wasn’t before. 

My eyes burn when I'm sweating a lot or when I am looking at a computer screen a lot. When I drive now, I have to wear my glasses. My headaches are the main thing. They come and go. One day, I’ll be perfectly fine; and then the next day, I’ll have a headache. I have lingering GI issues and feel nauseous, so I have to take nausea medicine and go to a GI doctor. I've had several tests, but the headaches are the main lingering issue. Then my hair started falling out. That took a toll on me. I think I was so stressed. It’s not falling out as fast as it did. It still sheds, but it's not falling out as fast. My hair was fine while I was sick. Then it started falling out when I combed my hair or when I got in the shower. That was scary because I love my hair.

It's a daily battle, and, of course, some days are better than others. Being paranoid about catching it again is what keeps me up. I worry about my family getting it.  I told my doctor, “This isn’t normal. I’m always worried.”  I'm always calling my doctor, asking her, “Hey, what's wrong with me?” She says, “It’s just your mind playing games on you. Don't listen to it.” I keep telling myself what she says, and then I'll text my friend, and she will answer, “You’re  fine.” 

Let’s stop saying, “You’re fine.” It seems that everyone forgets about you once you get better. They think you’re fine. 

NO! It’s not that simple. No one has asked me, “Are you still okay?” It's only one of my friends that still asks me, and she knows that I still have lingering issues.  I do have a therapist that I talk to, and she talks me out of things. I have to keep being encouraged, and people tell me that talking to her is part of what helps.

I haven't returned to the office full time. I stayed out of work for six weeks because I have to go to people’s homes. Then they changed so that we don’t have to go inside the home.  They could come out. It affected the amount of paperwork, and I went for weeks without getting things done. My boss called, and then people helped me out. I stayed out six weeks because I was too paranoid to go back to the office because I know that’s where I got it.  The first day I went back to the office, no one was wearing masks like they were supposed to, and I didn’t feel safe.

So I called my boss and I said that  I can't come back to that office until this is over. So I've worked up to the point that I might go in for 30 minutes if I need to do paperwork or if my boss needs me to sign some papers. I have a state car so I was doing everything outside the office.  I would sit in the parking lot to type on my laptop. My job has been very accommodating, and I appreciate that they have worked with me so well. 

To the survivors of this virus, we are in this daily battle together, and we are blessed to be able to tell our story.