Michael

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: I caught Covid in February 2020 and was admitted to the hospital in early March. I remember very little of this as my condition soon deteriorated, I was put into a coma and connected to a ventilator. My knowledge of what happened before I awoke again is mostly what my wife and family have told me.

I do remember that in February 2020, nobody was talking much about Covid. During the latter half of the month, my wife was out of town. Having time on my hands, the last weekend in February I refereed more soccer games than usual. After my last match on Sunday, I felt more tired than usual and thought I was coming down with the flu. Returning from out of town on Monday, my wife said I looked a mess. By midweek, I was coughing all the time and, by the following Saturday, I felt very ill and slept all day.

It never occurred to me that I might have Covid. I felt better on Monday, but by Tuesday evening I was very ill and my wife called Urgent Care. She finally talked to a consulting nurse and took me to Urgent Care on Wednesday evening, March 4. I didn’t return home again until May 20, 2020. Upon arrival at Urgent Care, they tested me for Covid-19 and declared that I was positive. From Urgent Care, I was taken by ambulance to a hospital. Upon arrival, I was taken to the ICU, retested, and put into isolation. That was the morning of March 5. I don’t remember what happened next until I came out of the coma in mid-April. In a later conversation with the admitting doctor, I learned that the tests took days to provide a result but the doctors had taken one look at me and knew that I had Covid.

When I awoke again in April, my lead doctor came in and introduced herself as the person who had saved my life. Fighting off the stupor of all the drugs, I was incredulous, not remembering that my life had ever needed to be saved. It was difficult to hear that I’d had acute kidney failure, double pneumonia, multiple heart attacks, significant blood clots, lost forty pounds, and had been near death several times. As I was one of the earliest registered Covid patients in the nation, doctors had no experience in dealing with the disease. I was given a number of experimental drugs in hopes that something would work. My doctors later told me that I was basically a guinea pig and they tried many many things. They then tweeted out what worked and didn’t work to other ICUs across the nation to help in the battle with COVID-19..

When I first entered the hospital, the world seemed normal. When I awoke again, everything was different. Schools and businesses were closed. People worked from home, wore masks in public, talked about social distancing, and hospitals around the country were filling up with Covid patients. Hospital staff were dying from taking care of those patients. 

This new world was very strange.

I had a difficult time “surviving.” When I first awoke I heard that about 35,000 people had died from Covid in the US. I felt depressed when I learned that so many had died while I had survived…and I wondered why. I was in total isolation and missed my wife and family. My nurses became my family and were instrumental in helping me physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I remember finally turning the corner when I consciously dedicated my life to honor my wife, children, family, and friends whose love and prayers helped me. But most of all, to honor all those who had died from this horrible disease.

Upon regaining consciousness, I was so weak I couldn’t feed myself, I couldn’t even hold my phone to talk with family. The process of recovering my strength was long and difficult. Physical therapy involved many hard, small steps…and fights with my physical therapists. Three days a week I was on dialysis, a process that left me weak. We had to reschedule my physical therapy sessions to occur before dialysis so I had enough energy to do the rehab work. At one point, lying in bed, I  told myself that if I didn’t do the work, it was only going to get worse. My competitive spirit kicked in and I began to make progress. As I got stronger, I began calling family and friends. Some said I talked and texted with them prior to being put into a coma; I have no memory of this. It took weeks, but eventually, I was able to walk down the hall to the nurse’s station, much to everyone’s surprise. Then I realized that I had to walk back to my bed. 

Leaving the hospital was like coming out of a cocoon. There was a joy to reunite with family and fear about what would happen next. I was wheeled into the lobby and met with thunderous applause as my doctors, nurses, family, friends – all the people who’d taken care of me were there to see me off. I never expected anything like that. It was very emotional, very humbling.

A few months after returning home I received a copy of my hospital expenses. It was for over a million dollars not including professional fees, post-hospitalization rehab expenses, and outpatient dialysis. A local reporter did a story on my medical costs and it went worldwide. A friend later joked with me that the hospital staff who cheered at my discharge were from the hospital’s accounting department.

At one point after my discharge, my wife and I were interviewed for a local news program. She described the moment when she and our kids said their “goodbyes” to me as they expected that I wouldn’t live through the night. It was like a lightning bolt went off in my brain as the raw emotion in her voice hit me. I can’t remember ever feeling such anguish but, most importantly, such love before in my life. I am extremely grateful for all my wife, family, friends, doctors, nurses, and others did to keep me alive. They went through hell for me. My wife likely had Covid as she experienced many symptoms, isolated herself, and fully recovered.

On May 5, I was transferred to a nursing home where my physical therapy continued. I was determined to recover my strength so that I could return home. I’d been in good health before catching Covid and I think this is part of why I’ve been able to recover, although it has taken months.

In the beginning, even slight exercise left me gasping for air. I had to retrain myself in how to breathe normally. But I pushed myself physically and mentally. I started doing a crossword puzzle each day to get my brain working. I read and read and read…and often had to reread chapters until they made sense. The recovery process was as much mental as anything else. I had to retrain my mind, rebuild the images of what my life was. I kept doing the exercises, started yoga, returned to training at the gym, kept working, and eventually regained my strength and health.

Unlike many long-haul Covid patients, I’ve recovered most of my health, no lung, kidney, or heart problems, even my pre-Covid diabetes condition is gone.

Although I’m certainly happy that I lived, I often feel guilty that I survived. Why me? Thousands have died and my doctors told me that many patients around me in the hospital passed away. I was very frustrated that people were dying even as the President was saying that Covid was not real.

Adapting to the new Covid world has been difficult. Seeing everyone wearing masks and hearing about Covid spreading all over the world has been strange. The day after my discharge my wife took me to a doctor’s appointment and I suggested we go out to lunch afterward. She just laughed, telling me that all the restaurants were closed.

Why me? Why did I survive? My life was nothing special. Now, how can I live to make the world better? I can be more real, more honest, more appreciative of all the good in my life. Perhaps my Covid survivor story will encourage others.

I hope that in 2021 enough people will get vaccinated so that we can begin to rebuild life as normal once more.

I want to hug those I care about again.

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Two years later, I’ve returned to work full time, and continue to exercise and referee youth soccer matches. I also continue to exercise my brain by reading, doing crossword puzzles, and pushing myself mentally. I’m afraid that my life would deteriorate if I stopped. I was lucky to not experience COVID long-hauler after-effects. My recovery wasn’t easy and it continues to be challenging. But my physical therapists warned me that once you stop it’s very difficult to restart. I’m optimistic that the world will eventually adapt and we’ll regain some normalcy. I’m planning to travel with my wife to Italy to attend a friend’s wedding. And there are so many other countries where we have friends who we want to see. But not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about my experience and appreciated the love I received from my wife, our children, friends, and so many others many of whom I don't even know but they heard about my story and prayed for me. And I continue to think about the doctors, nurses, physical therapists,  and staff at the hospital who worked tirelessly to save me. In my darkest moments, they were always there to hold my hand. I would not be here without them.