Two years ago today I lay flat on my back, completely immobile. I found myself at the Kaiser Health acute Covid unit. I had been double vaccinated and had exercised reasonable levels of caution. I was very sick. Maybe only recently have I grasped just how sick I was. No, I was never on a ventilator, or in a coma, but I was sick, real sick. I will skip the gooey details but suffice to say I was completely incapacitated.
I have very distinct memories about the whole journey. I remember being cared for by an amazing team of care givers. As I hear of people waiting for hours in the hallways of hospitals, overwhelmed with the influx of sick people, my experience was just the opposite. There was never a moment when I need it, that someone was not there to assist me. I can remember none of their names but their faces live in my heart. They came from all parts the world. Many of them were from Latin America, or Africa. They were also young girls acting as CNA’s who were moving towards their RN degrees. To a person, their kindness and attention was beyond anything I expected.
There were three encounters I will never forget:
1). I was visited by the head of the Covid unit. She came to “talk with me”. I said, “I feel like I am out of the woods”. She said, “Well, Mark, you are not out of the woods, but you are headed in the right direction”. It was in that moment I realized I had been fighting for my life.
2). The head Covid doctor for Kaiser came to “visit” with me. He said, “I can’t say this for certain, but I have seen this for the last year. Had you not been double vaccinated I suspect you would have been dead in three days”. I have heard a lot of trash and conspiracies about the vaccines—take it from me—the vaccine saved my life.
3). After my first 10 days there, they moved me to the rehab unit. Every morning I had a visit from the charge nurse. Her name I have forgotten but she was a Muslim woman originally from Tunisia. She wore a Hijab and a smile that radiated. Soon, we found ourselves sharing our lives and faith at least twice a day. God smiled.
Perhaps because I survived this battle it is easier for me to say, but I am grateful for the experience. About night 14 at three AM I thought it might be time to have a ‘one—on—one’ with the BIG ONE. I knew through the whole ordeal that I would not die. My question through it all was, “What will my life be life post—Covid”? I asked Out Loud—“Ok God, what now, what’s the point”. I waited, I asked again, and again. Probably an hour went by. Then a very clear, one word answer came from that little voice that never lies—“Compassion”. That’s, it… that’s my answer? “Compassion”.
I got home and started my journey of rebuilding my health. Then “Long Covid” showed up. That’s another whole story. It’s weird, confusing, real, subtle, relentless and I am winning the battle.
So, about six weeks ago, on my journey home from Kentucky, as we hit the Colorado border I said to MK “I have Covid”. Sure enough, I did and I got real sick, real fast. The difference this time is that I was placed on Paxlovid—a miracle drug. Two days after starting the drug I was up and moving around and two days after that I swam 40 laps.
I share all of this with the hope that my experience might help my readers. Here are two facts—The vaccine is a life saver, and the nerds who develop the drugs that help and heal are my heroes.
Onward and Upward,
Mark
PS Taking Horse Dewormer or inhaling Clorox is for Idiots
Lyfting Me Up 