Covid Negative

Still counted with the living, although not counted anywhere as far as the Pandemic goes. You see, my test was negative. Twice. My body, however, disagreed with the results.
Started mid-March, seemly unrelated to the virus in China. I just figured my body was doing some crazy old-people-failing-apart thing. Started with diarrhea and some fierce headaches. Within days news of the Virus Covid 19 was spreading around the world. My corporate office immediately started issuing emergency guidelines...so when my cough and sore throat started I thought I better stay home. Also, my oldest daughter Kendra was in back in Utah fighting pnemonia after her recent visit. So I got tested. 7 days later it came back negative, and Kendra was recovering, thank God! I felt better so I went back to work for two days.

That second night after work I was dizzy and decided to lay down. The fever rolled over me like turning on an electric blanket. I could feel endorphins surging through me, an odd pleasant sensation. Then like being in a hot tub too long, I became light-headed and realized I was too hot. The ugly feeling of pressure everywhere started. Confusion filled my head like smoke fills a room on fire. An internal wrestle over my blankets began with the growing fire, the rattling chills, and the smoke in my brain. At one point I remember telling my Stephanie that i didn't feel well. There I was, 47 years old with my kid draping cool wet towels over me like I was a child with a sunburn. My temp and blood pressure were both way too high, but without a thermometer, we didn't know how high. I was on my side and the cold towel draped my head and one eye, it felt like heaven. Took Tylenol, wrestled with covers and within a couple of hours I finally swam to the surface.

Stumbling to the bathroom mirror I found that my eye, the one not under the towel had sprouted a small blood waterfall from under the iris and down the milky white of my eye. They say this can happen when coughing, but I dont remember coughing in that first fever. Honestly, don't remember much from those hours...except that MAYBE the negative test was wrong. The rollercoaster had just made its maiden climb and fall. A rollercoaster that lasted 16 days. During the climbs I read everything I could find about Covid 19. Harvard doctor said it was a "shy virus" with a 30% negative test failure rate, diarrhea is an early symptom, and that people everywhere were dying.

I had no choice but to finish the ride. During the falls I would turn myself over to the beast and then fight my way back out. Tylenol, Tea, & Tumeric (for the swelling because ibuprofen is not good with Covid). My joints felt stiff and swollen, old injuries coming back like they happened yesterday. Chest pain that felt like a heavy long lead necklace. The fevers came and went, leaving a gift each time, a nightmare. Horrific colorful, memorable nightmares leaving my mind in a hazy PTSD state with each waking.

A day came that I felt a little better, started counting hours so I could break out of my quarantine prison and get back to work. I went for a second test, it came back negative again in less than 48 hours. Felt better like I might be able to shake this since, apparently it wasn't Covid. Trying to crawl away from a dragon too fast is foolish. That great beast rose again and stuck a fiery talon in my back. My blood pressure went up and my oxygen dropped. The shortness of breath was irratic and between moments of tachycardia I recognized a change and knew my heart was in trouble. I could feel a sizzling in my chest like candy pop rocks under my skin. My best friend, a nurse I respect very much, suggested I take an extra BP pill and call her back in 15 minutes or go to the ER. So Friday night, after getting up at 4am, my Steph took me to the Emergency room. Once there, I explained my Covid negative, but symptomatic condition. No visitor signs everywhere, Steph realized before I did that she couldn't stay. We immediately hugged and cried. So many stories of people dropped off at ER never to be seen again. My heart broke all over again.

They put me and my cute homemade mask on the Covid side and proceeded to treat me in isolation gear. Finally, someone was taking this serious. Oxygen was low, but BP meds were kicking in and the pain was decreasing even as they did an EKG and x-rays. The techs, nurses, and doctor were all very good, kind, and validating. No pneumonia, no heart damage. All the pain was just the virus. Batman, the cute nurse, released me with a booklet of instructions and sent me home after 3am.
That weekend I rested, fought more fevers and nightmares and kept a double dose of my BP meds going until I could see my doc. My kids showed me an app on my smart phone to measure my oxygen, great tool! I would check it and do deep breathing exercises as Chris Cuomo, my new hero, instructed me to do. By Sunday night I started to feel the beast let go. Starving after each fever I tried to fill up on salads, tuna sandwiches, and home cooked foods. As the virus rolled from my toes on up, it nested in my head. The "Covid/not Covid" feeling was gone, but now a milder fever started as a bacterial infection set into my sinuses. Back to the docs and now on antibiotics with a prescription for my double dose of BP meds.

I probably could have just said, those were the worst 2 weeks of my life, but I can't. My story needs to be heard and understood. I'm not counted, so i haven't suffered...at least part of me feels that way. I see those numbers everyday, the outbreak counts and I KNOW I cant be the only one! I feel hurt and angry when people dont take this seriously, when they don't wear masks around my kids at work or my family all over the country. I want to shout and say this is HELL...protect yourself! I lived through it. I can breath, smell, and taste life again and it was worth the fight! Everything happens for a reason, I've always believed that. Maybe the world needed a wake up call to see what was important to all of us. The planet needs to heal from our pollution. To some, learning what is important has been toilet paper and canned soup. I hope that for most of us it is a chance to see the world through new eyes. If you survive this, make everyday and every interaction count. Because that is the important count.

Thank you Chris Cuomo for sharing your struggle, it helped me so much. Thank you to my family for all the long distance love and support! Thank you to the brave souls at St. Al's ER in Nampa, ID. Thank you to my kids...no words can express my love for humans who stood by side when things were ugly. Thank you for this second chance at life.

Epilogue: Day 18. Blood drawn for the antibody test. We'll see. Regardless outcome, I still won't be counted. But I know what counts now.