When you thought you did all you were supposed to do...
During this pandemic I have prayed for our country and those effected by this unseen virus. I prayed for healing and restoration. I prayed for Everyone because whether you have been infected or not, COVID19 has affected you in one way or another.
Fast forward, I mask up daily, I use my sanitizer, and I did not engage in large groups unless absolutely necessary. You see, I have health issues. Last year, I had been in the hospital twice and I knew I was in a precarious position if I were to be exposed to COVID this year.
I posted on social media about being safe, and I included information in e-newsletters about testing, symptoms, resources, prayer, etc. I did everything that I possibly could, and honestly thought I would not get the virus.
Life always throws us curve balls. On July 9th, we had a scare at our office, and the entire team got tested and were asked to stay home for two weeks. My test results came back “NEGATIVE.” When my results came in, all I could think was, “Praise God!” I continued to do my norm, which I thought was enough. Masking up, sanitizing, and practicing social distancing. My doctor prescribed me a Z-pack for some sinus problems I was having, and I used my inhaler daily. I took my supplements, but I did not take them every day as I should have.
Around July 29th-30th, my coughing began. I blamed it on my allergies. Then, I began losing my memory, and started having trouble speaking. I could not figure out why I could not pronounce words correctly or why I was having problems with my memory. I continued with my life. On August 1st, everything started as a good day; I setup my granddaughter’s fish tank for her birthday, washed my hands, wore my mask, and sanitized while social distancing. When I got home, I was tired, but I did not dwell on it. On Sunday, August 2nd, my coughing increased, and I had a high fever...102-103. Not good! I couldn’t get out the bed! I started to lose my taste. Then, on Tuesday, August 4th, I went to the emergency room. Once again, my son Steven to the rescue. Steven hadn’t been feeling well either and he wasn’t sure what was going on with the two of us.
At the hospital, Steven called to check on me and to confirm the test results. I remembered the nurse began by saying, “I didn’t want to tell your son first…” At that moment, my heart started beating fast. I can only imagine the look on my face when she said, “You tested positive for COVID-19.” Hearing those words sounded like a death sentence, and she must have seen it on my face because she immediately reassured me that my heart and lungs were good. She advised that I could go home with meds, and that if things got worse, to be sure and come back to the ER immediately.
I wanted things to be okay, I did not want to have to go back to the hospital. Unfortunately, once Saturday rolled around, going to the restroom was not easy. I was having major chills, diarrhea, no appetite, no energy and I was coughing my head off. It did not take long for me to have problems breathing, so I called my, “die hard” son, Steven once again, and he immediately came and took me back to the ER. Walking to his car from my apartment was the longest walk of my life. I had to stop halfway just to breath.
At the ER, I was admitted but did not have a bed. This was the second time; I was isolated in the ER area for COVID-19 patients. I waited from Saturday until Tuesday on a stretcher for a hospital bed, because there were none available. Finally, I was transferred to another hospital on Tuesday, August 11th. When I arrived, I was placed in a room with two other COVID-19 patients while waiting on a private room. All of us in the same room seeing each other struggling with the virus was frightening. I just kept praying, and finally it happened, a private room with a bed became available.
I settled into my room but did not have an appetite. I couldn’t talk, much less breathe. I was scared, but I believed that God would see me through this journey. I knew my family were concerned, so I created a family group text to text updates when I could. My kids assigned my daughter, Katy as the contact for the doctors to update the family.
My treatment regimen began with a steroid, the experimental drug Remdesivir, antibiotics, blood thinner twice a day, and more meds. When you cannot breathe, you will try anything. Additionally, I was on 15ml of oxygen to assist my breathing. I had to have assistance to go to the restroom at first, and on most days, eating was not on my agenda, and I found myself forcing food down in an effort to try and keep up my strength.
I was fighting for my life, but I thank God for the mighty prayer warriors all over the US and the world. You see, we have a prayer line, and I had been praying on this line for years and now it was my turn to be prayed for. My home church and priests were praying for me. Prayer lines were started. People called and prayed over me. My family and friends through social media prayed, posted words of encouragement, scripture, etc. for my healing. A client of mine, and a mega church in California were praying nonstop. Once again, the power of prayer was in full force. I prayed over myself and touched every organ. I asked God if He wasn’t finished with me yet, to let me live to continue His work.
After 11 days in the hospital, a sister/friend of mine told me I would be released at 2:00pm and I was released on Tuesday, August 18th, and I went home to recover for a month with oxygen. Steven again came to drive me home. On the ride, home, I had many thoughts but the most important was my gratitude to be going home. I was feeling really blessed. I was also still trying to figure out how I contracted the virus. I am still not sure if I contacted it from my son, my family, friends, or out in the field at work.
I always thank God for the sun rising every day for me, and the air I breathe; both of which we take for granted. This journey has once again confirmed that God has a plan for my life, and that He has ordained to minister to others.
When my son drove into my apartment complex, tears welled in my eyes. I reflected on last year, realizing that I could have died if I had waited a couple more days before seeking medical assistance (9 days in the hospital). This time, 11 days in the hospital and at one point I wasn’t sure if I was getting out.
This journey was truly a walk of faith, so I had to pull my faith together and stand on His promises.
So those of you who doubt the seriousness of the virus, I have this message for you. I plead with you to rethink that this is not serious it. You don’t know if you have it and are spreading it. It is not something you can see, smell, hear, or touch. You may seem ok, but you could be infecting others. Once you infect someone else, they will have to fight, like myself to get well. The virus IS NOT political. It is real and can kill as we all know, since there are over 175,000 deaths in this country alone, and the U.S. has the most cases worldwide. You should know that it is not selfish for you to protect yourself, your family, and others. So, I encourage everyone to do the right thing and continue to practice social distancing, washing, and sanitizing your hands, and wearing a mask/shield. Remember, your joy today can cost a life tomorrow.
I continue to pray for everyone during this pandemic. May God continue to cover and protect you. I hope my story enlightens someone to understand that it is up to you to do all you can to avoid the virus and spreading it.
BPIR Social Media Director