Rheamie

DETROIT, MICHIGAN: On Friday, March 13, 2020, two days after the first cases in Michigan were confirmed, I felt pain in my leg and back. I thought I was coming down with the flu. Everything I put in my mouth tasted like metal and salt. By the following Wednesday, I had difficulty breathing and went to the ER. Tests confirmed I had Covid-19.

I was in the ICU and, on Saturday, was given experimental drugs. Suddenly, my heart rate went crazy, and everyone rushed in to help me. I came back to consciousness, and it was determined that my tachycardia episode was likely caused by the drugs—no more of those pills. 

During the worst part of it, it’s like you are underwater gasping for air, and someone is ducking your head. It feels like you are slowly suffocating while trying to breathe or even talk.

I was put on oxygen after doctors confirmed I had viral pneumonia in both of my lungs.

It does take a toll on your body. You have to fight through. I had to be strong. I focused on prayer and staying positive to pull me through my darkest hour.

Covid was bad in Detroit. I could hear people having difficulties in the rooms around me. Three people, I knew died while I was in the hospital. I didn’t listen to the news. I watched game shows, played with my phone, and prayed.

I had a few days with fevers, but then it broke. After seven days in the hospital, I was released to go home.

I was being wheeled to the hospital exit when I saw my husband. There was a noise, and I was distracted. I turned to find my husband in front of me on one knee. 

He said, “Will you marry me again?”

Everyone cheered. I was overwhelmed. We’d planned to renew our vows this year, made plans, I’d even bought a dress. Then, Covid came along. Yes, we will get married again, this time in a church, but we’re not sure when.

I have asthma, diabetes and have survived kidney cancer. When I got home, I set little goals for myself to recover from Covid. There are twenty two steps to to the 2nd floor of my office. I used to go up and down these steps all day. I pushed myself to get up them again. Now, I can do it, but it’s tiring. I’m much better but still have difficulty breathing.

I never thought I was going to die. When I got home and found the many messages from well-wishers, I did my best to respond to all of them. I kept a journal at the hospital with the names of all the nurses and staff who helped me. I sent them “thank you’s.”

God saved me, and I’m still wondering why. I’m grateful and want to share my story and offer encouragement to others.

Every day, I say, “thank you, Jesus!”