so, after feeling sick for eight days, after refusing to believe I had COVID, I reached a point where I couldn't get out of bed because I was feeling so, so sick. we had a pulse oximeter, and Jenny checked mine. a normal level is in the high 90s. mine read 70. seventy. so Jenny rushed me to the ER. at that point, I hadn't been tested, but I was 99% sure
I had COVID. it was confirmed that night via a test, and I also had pneumonia, as a result of my COVID case. I didn't think it was that bad; I was still in disbelief at that point, because Jenny and the kids had COVID too, and their cases weren't bad, so I thought I'd be able to go home the next day. this was on August 2nd.
I got into a room finally, and I was on my period, so... it wasn't a fun time! at all! my underwear had to be thrown away, but I was too sick to give a fuck. on August 3rd, I wasn't stabilizing, and my oxygen level wasn't rising like it should have been, even though I was on a CPAP machine. so the doctor called Jenny, told her I was very critical, and
asked her questions about who my power of attorney is, my emergency contacts, and the like. before that, I texted my friends "I'm going to the ICU", but literally the last thing I remember is my doctor being on the phone with Jenny before I woke up some time later. I didn't know this at the time, but I had to be intubated, and I was in a medically induced
coma for eight days. I have no idea what happened during those eight days, but I learned that I woke up frequently, had to have my wrists restrained, and Jenny wasn't allowed to bring me anything, not even a stuffed animal for comfort, because I was in the COVID unit of the hospital, and they didn't want the virus spreading, or whatever. when I did wake up
and was finally lucid, I was confused. I don't remember very much about the first couple of days after I woke up, except watching The History Channel and having a really sweet nurse who kept calling me her little rockstar and telling me I was the one light spot on her dark days. I was also fully conscious when I was extubated, and just thinking about it
is almost enough to send me into a PTSD episode. (I haven't been diagnosed, but I'm pretty sure I developed PTSD thanks to my entire COVID experience.) on August 13th, 2021, I started physical therapy, because I could hardly move in bed, due to not having done so for nearly two weeks.
I also had to have a couple of sessions of speech therapy, because they had to make sure I could swallow normally, and that there weren't any adverse, lasting effects from the ventilator or the pneumonia. during these sessions, I had to take my oxygen mask off to eat the food my speech therapist would spoon feed to me, and my oxygen level would plummet.
I think I was on 8L of oxygen at this point, so my lungs were Not Having It. but, then I got moved out of the ICU, and I had more privacy because I was in an actual room instead of an alcove in the ICU. it was a relief to have privacy again. as such, I was able to play music on my phone without having to worry about disturbing anyone, and there was one song
the message of this song is basically "I'm not going to give up, even if life throws shit at me, I'm just going to keep going, and I'm not alone". I listened to it specifically before I had my PT sessions, because it gave me the mental strength I needed to do things like get up and
walk, which was very hard for me, since I was still incredibly weak. my physical and occupational therapists were great, though, and even if all I did was stand up and stay still by my bed for a minute, they acted like I'd just run a marathon, and they were THE sweetest people.
but anyway, I had PT and OT every day, did exercises and stretches in bed, I was eventually able to sit up in the chair in my room and one of the CNAs said I didn't look as sick, I was gradually weaned off of the oxygen until I was at 2L instead of 8L, and I didn't have to use the CPAP or an oxygen mask anymore, just a cannula. I remember feeling so
accomplished every time I hit another milestone, was able to walk a bit farther, and gained some independence back. I also found out somewhere along the way just how lucky I was. doctors and nurses frequently told me that it's very rare to see people be extubated and then recover. in that hospital, I was among the 5% that were that lucky.
in the last year since I was discharged, I've had a lot of panic attacks and flashbacks and nightmares about various things having to do with my hospital stay. I'm able now to stave off a panic attack most of the time, and hell, I was going to a concert in January, I went swimming the other day, I can go out and do things and walk around for hours, so my
I had to be discharged with an oxygen tank and a walker, but I only had to use them both for a couple of weeks, and I can't tell y'all how good it felt to keep reaching goals like showering standing up and not needing the walker anymore! and also, this last thing is a little... silly, but, I like to sing in the shower, but after my throat had been
through so much, my singing voice sounded awful, and it hurt my heart. one way that I marked my recovery was by how well I was able to sing a line from the song I linked above, that says "We must going on!" (they're Korean, their English isn't going to be perfect, please don't judge.) because it's sung pretty high, and I continued to listen to that song
as I recovered. I listened to it pretty frequently in the shower (still do honestly), and I tried to sing to it, but my voice cracked or got tired, but for some reason I was determined to hit that note, and the first time I was able to do it with my voice sounding good, I actually cried a little so I didn't have any worries that I would be able to
have a good summer when I came back to visit Jenny. I have an emergency inhaler, and I've had to use it a handful of times, and only once this summer (I freaked my poor friend out when I did), but other than that, I haven't felt too hindered by any long COVID effects! this is still hard to talk about, and I definitely need therapy to help me deal with it
Health things that are like that are scary - though sometimes not until after the fact. When my jaw was infected, I really wasn't able to be scared, but looking back, I'm like, I was so lucky. I'm glad you were too, though I would have preferred you be lucky sooner.
Linky's Slave
: thank you! and it really is!! I would honestly call it my favorite ATEEZ title track because it's meant so much to me throughout my recovery
I'm listening to a KPop song on repeat today, and it's making me think about my hospital stay last August.