Untangled 36: My savior

He and I went on with the facade as we had always done. He would come over for an hour in the evening, sit in the same chair, play the game on his phone, and leave after eating. No phone calls, no conversation, and no future plans. I had no feelings for him anymore, but I couldn’t let go like that. I wanted to rekindle, like so many couples do, and be more in love. That didn’t happen, though. Plus, he had just pleaded with me to stay; I wasn’t a mean girl.

A month and a half later, in August 2021, I contracted COVID with pneumonia, the Delta variant. One day, I got home from the salon, laid on the couch, and slept until 10 p.m. I knew something was wrong because I had never done that before. The days went on, and I got progressively worse. I was sleeping all day and all night. He suggested I go get a COVID test, and I agreed. I lay in the backseat and slept while he drove the 40 miles to Dallas. After taking the test, I was told I would have the results in my email within 48 hours. I’m still waiting.

I tried to doctor myself, but the fever and fatigue wouldn’t break. I had become too weak to even hold my phone or walk up the stairs. On day three, I couldn’t get out of bed, so that is where I stayed. He had the code to my loft door, so he would come in and walk Zoey, bring me medicine and fluids. I did a Teladoc call, on which they prescribed the COVID protocol. He went and got the $400 worth of medication, separated everything into little piles on my dresser, and gave them to me like clockwork.

One night, I woke and had to use the bathroom. When I sat on the toilet, I blacked out and fell into the tub. I woke up not knowing where I was, with the shower liner wrapped around my head. That was when he decided it was time for the ER and for him to sleep downstairs on the couch. That afternoon, we headed to the ER. I was too weak to stand, so he put my arm around his neck and dragged me down to the car. We got to Frisco Medical City about five minutes later. Because of COVID, they wouldn’t let anyone in unless they were being treated. I was taken to the back and given a COVID test; it was negative. The doctor concluded that I was just dehydrated. They gave me fluids, prescribed Tylenol, told me to get a pulse oximeter from Amazon, and come back if it went below 92.

I was discharged, even though I couldn’t walk, talk, or stand without blacking out. The nurse told me to sit in the waiting room out front to wait for my ride. I couldn’t walk, so they wheeled me to the waiting room door. The few steps I was forced to walk from the door to the chair caused me severe chest pain and shortness of breath. I felt myself fading out. I blacked out in the empty outside waiting room. He was waiting in the parking garage, so he was coming in to get me when they called him. He walked in to find me slumped in the corner, blacked out, with my phone on the floor. He shook me to wake up, assuming I was asleep, then called a nurse. I was coming to as he was reaming them out. They insisted I was just dehydrated and needed fluids and told him to take me home. He wheeled me to the backseat and drove me home because they refused to admit me.

Two days had passed, and I had only grown worse. I had long stopped eating; now, I couldn’t drink. My skin felt like paper, and I started having stabbing pains in my back on the right side. One morning, he woke and came up to check on me, to give me my medication, and to walk Zoey. He took one look at me and said, “You’re going back to the hospital.” I heard him on the phone yelling at the ER for sending me home; he said I was turning gray and my eyes were sunken. They told him to call the fire department. The fire department came but said that because of COVID protocols, they couldn’t go up the stairs. He yelled at them too. Why come if you can’t go up the stairs? So, he got me down the stairs the same way he did the first time.

They put me on a gurney, took my vitals, turned on the sirens, and got me to the hospital. While in the back of the ambulance, I had a moment of clarity. I heard as clear as day, “You will live and not die.” I’m tearing up as I recount this. When I got into the ER, another doctor was on duty. He took my vitals, tested me for COVID, and came back with a grim look on his face. He said, “I see you were just here, Ms. Blakes. I don’t know why they sent you home. Your lungs are in horrible shape. You are testing negative for COVID because it’s past the point of detection, but I think you have it with a bad case of pneumonia. I have transport here to rush you to Plano; they will do everything they can to save you.”

I could hear him but couldn’t reconcile what he was saying. This couldn’t be that serious, but it was. I had no voice, even if I had questions. I found myself asleep, being awakened in intervals to answer questions. I don’t remember even getting to the hospital. Transport put on the sirens and got me to the Plano location that took COVID patients. Plano had a room waiting for me by the time I got there at 5 p.m. The team waiting had on masks, shields, and hazmat suits. The doctor on staff said she spoke with someone in charge, and they agreed to give me Remdesivir, even though I was outside of the window to receive it. She explained that it didn’t look good because my blood was so thick. My blood should’ve been around a 4, but it was 75—“as thick as soup,” she said. She didn’t know how I was still alive.

They needed to get two emergency contacts before I went to sleep. I gave them the two, but I knew what I heard in that ambulance. That evening, they did scans, imaging, and IV fluid. I was put on oxygen, heart monitors, and leg compressors. At 10 p.m., I woke to an Indian man standing at the foot of my bed. He said, “Ms. Blakes, I want to add high doses of liquid vitamins to your IV to help your body fight, but I want your permission.” I nodded okay; he gave me the thumbs-up and left the room. They checked my legs for clots every few hours but found none. I would get an injection in my stomach twice a day to help thin my blood.

I was placed in the COVID wing, so I couldn’t have visitors and was in the room alone. I felt a presence in my room on the right side the entire time. I wasn’t afraid; I would get startled because I was expecting to turn and see someone, but the chair was empty. I was sleeping a lot, but in the hospital, I was having very vivid dreams. They were all of me in the second grade. In the dreams, I was so happy and remembered every classmate’s name. I can’t today and haven’t been able to any other time. I only had dreams, thoughts, and memories of that time. I didn’t remember that I was in Texas, that I had a daughter or a family. My reality in that hospital was of me as a child… that alone will preach. We are to go to Him as a child. I also believe that was God comforting me and keeping my mind steady.

I began to get better on the second night in the hospital. The doctors were astounded. I was a day from a ventilator because my lungs were so infected, but by the grace of God, I stayed on oxygen at the highest level. I was discharged five nights later.