COVID-19 Delta: Fighting to Survive

Recap of Our the Beginning

In the previous blog, Stroke Recovery: The Beginning of our Journey, I shared about our lives together from the time we met in the mid 80’s, had kids in the 90’s and ran a family business together for 25+ years. I also shared about our bout with the Delta strain of COVID that caused Ron to end up in the hospital.

This blog will tell you about the first few days of his Emergency Room stay. How his COVID Pneumonia improved and then took a turn for the worst and how I fought for information, updates and to get into the hospital room with my husband. If he was going to die, I didn’t want him to be alone thinking I wasn’t coming. If he lived, I wanted him to know I was right there fighting with him. So, I will pick up our tale from the first full day he spent in the Emergency Room.

A Storm is Coming without Warning

We had no idea there was a storm brewing in our lives. Although we hadn’t spent very much time apart up to this point, Ron’s visit to the ER on August 11, 2021 didn’t really have us too worked up. Understandably, we didn’t like being apart, but we knew his need for medical care was emergent. It was the right thing for him too…at first. He was very sick with COVID Pneumonia and the time to treat him at home had passed. So, the twelfth was his first full day in the ER. The treatment seemed to be helping. His stats were good and he was on five liters of oxygen while the medicine was dealing with the pneumonia.

Despite being alone in a room with no windows and barely any light, he was in relatively good spirits. We talked on the phone, facetimed and texted back and forth. He was able to get out of bed to go to the restroom or sit in a chair. When he called on August 13, he felt like he was on the mend and would be home in a couple of days. Though he was still pretty sick, he was his usual funny self, cracking jokes and making witty comments. Not even the latest strain of COVID could keep him from being the funny man. I missed him so much. Sleeping on his side of the bed brought little comfort. I cried myself to sleep. I was ready for him to be home.

The One Thing I will Always Regret

That is the part that will haunt me. Why didn’t I go get him? He could have left Against Medical Advice (AMA). He was improving. The doctor would have called in all the prescriptions he needed. The emergent part of the sickness had passed and he could have recuperated at home, under my watchful eye. I would have made sure he took all of his meds, got plenty of sunshine, moved around enough and got plenty to eat and drink. If I had just gone and picked him up. The what if’s will drive you mad though. I have to push those out of my mind. I didn’t go get him. That’s just the way it is and I have to keep that from eating me up inside.M

August 14th was another day of COVID Pneumonia recovery. He called first thing in the morning to report that he was feeling some better. His stats and bloodwork were improving. The oxygen and medicines were doing their job. He was still pretty jovial though the doctor said he was getting a little stir crazy wanting to come home. Which didn’t surprise me because he has always been such a homebody.

We talked several times throughout the day. But, he was really starting to miss me, his kids and his grandbabies. Sitting in that dark windowless room was getting to him a little bit. We were told they were looking for a room for him and would get him out of the ER as soon as one came available. Of course, he was next on the list for a non-emergent room opening. We both hoped it would have a window and not feel like he was in a dungeon.

Some Sweet Distraction

The next day, I wasn’t able to reach him in the morning. Kim brought the Chickens (our grandkids) over for a visit. They came to spend time with me and take my mind off things. We played outside, the kids swam in the pool. We had a good visit. Kim picked our peppers from the garden and made pepper sauce. It was a pretty good day, except I felt so uneasy, like something was out of place. It was almost nauseating. I tried reaching Ron a few times and finally called the nurse. The report was good. He was resting. His stats were looking good. They turned the oxygen down a little bit. It looked like he would be home in a couple of days. Though I didn’t see him that day, I trusted what the nurse told me. I was still anxious to talk with him the next morning.

The Battle Begins

I got up early on August 16th, determined to talk directly to Ron, hoping to facetime so I could see him for myself. He didn’t respond to my texts or answer my calls. I tried to reach him for several hours, including calling the nurse’s station for an update. Finally, my phone rang and the caller ID told me it was someone from the hospital. When I answered, a female doctor greeted me and I could tell something was wrong.

She said that Ron hadn’t made any improvement and he was very sick with long COVID and Pneumonia in both lungs. The day before, he was able to go down to 2 liters of oxygen. But, the doctor told me they had to start increasing it that morning. He went to 4 liters, then 5, 15, 35 liters. Then they increased to the max of 40 liters and things weren’t looking very good. “The next 24-48 hours are crucial to his COVID survival. We have seen this time after time in COVID patients with pneumonia. Just pray” the doctor said.

Determination to Get into that Hospital Room

I was dumbfounded. The range of emotions that washed over me went from fear to anger to regret and back to fear. What was I going to do? I asked them to let me in his room with him. I know Ron better than anyone does and I KNEW he needed me by his side. They refused saying the hospital was on shutdown and only patients and staff were allowed inside. How could that be? How could I let that be? For hours, I researched and talked to people I know in the medical industry trying to find a way to get into that hospital to take care of him myself.

What was I going to do? All I could think of was to get on the phone. I made one call to a friend and former client of mine who is in the medical industry, working in emergency care at a local hospital. This friend gave me some advice and told me how concerned she was for Ron. She wanted me to make as much noise as I possibly could until the hospital let me in to see him. She told me exactly what I needed to do.

Following instructions, I contacted the supervising nurse and made a plea to be let into Ron’s room for bedside care, to assist them in preventing a fall, keeping the oxygen on him, reorienting him to the room when he awoke confused and general care they were too busy to give. I was denied access.

Things Got Worse Before They Got Better

That evening, a nurse called me to say it was the end of her shift and she just wanted me to know that Ron had been very difficult to deal with all day. She was angry as she told me he had been combative, confused, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go to the bathroom and was non-compliant with her commands. She was going home for the day, but said she hoped he was better behaved if he was her patient the next day. This was ridiculous behavior and I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

I wanted to understand. So, I asked her if he was refusing to eat and go to the bathroom or if there was a reason he couldn’t. She just said he wouldn’t comply with anything she said. I was confused by her attitude. Again, I raised my plea to be let into his room, which fell on deaf ears. I was anxious to be able to talk with the nightshift nurse and get an update as soon as possible. There was no way I could sleep. I was just sick!

Over the past few days, I had learned the nurse’s routines. Evening shift change was at 7pm. The dayshift nurse had to update the nightshift nurse on every patient. Then the nightshift nurse had to go on rounds with the doctor and other staff members. There were so many patients at the time that it took quite a while to complete. It was typically a couple of hours before I could talk to the nurse that just came on shift. So, I waited. After two hours, I called the nurse’s station. The night nurse was busy with a COVID patient, so I had to leave a message for him to call me back.

Sedation and Restraints

When he didn’t return my call fast enough, I called again. Twice. I was told he had a difficult patient he was working with and he would call me as soon as he could. I never imagined that difficult patient was Ron! The call finally came. It was close to midnight. I was in a tizzy. He explained that Ron had been non-compliant with the dayshift nurse, so he had been sedated and restrained. My head swirled as I tried to make sense of what he was saying to me. Sedated with what? Why? Restrained? He has COVID! What does that mean?

That Small Glimmer of Hope

He was very compassionate and answered my questions patiently, explaining all that he knew. The picture he presented to me was not something I could accept. I raised my petition to be allowed in his room as bedside care again. He understood but told me he couldn’t make that decision. Then he told me some golden words. He said “only hospital administration can make the decision to allow a family member into a patient’s room.”

There was a Way in

WHAT!!!!! There was a way to get into his room? Maybe he wasn’t supposed to tell me, but he did and I had questions. He confirmed that there was a small number of patients that had a family member in their room. It was difficult to get in and there were strict requirements the family member had to agree to first, including signing a COVID waiver. I told him I would sign anything, wear a hazmat suit, wear two hazmat suits, agree to whatever they told me I had to do. Just get me in that room. Only, he couldn’t. I had some work ahead of me.

Getting Rest in the Middle of the Storm

It was after midnight. My mind was turning. I knew I had a fight ahead of me and I had to get some rest. So, I forced myself to lay down and sleep. I set an alarm to go off before the nightshift went home so I could talk to this nurse again and get an update. The thought of the same dayshift nurse being Ron’s caregiver for the day infuriated me. I knew I needed to find out all I could before shift change.

I slept hard for 5 or 6 hours. The alarm scared me out of my sleep. Before my mind was even clear, I picked up the phone and called the nurse again. Only, I couldn’t get in touch with him. I missed my window and I was mad at myself and felling defeated. How am I supposed to get in touch with hospital administration. I didn’t even know what that meant.

Thank God for an Advocate on My Side

I called my friend again. The one that told me how to petition to get in Ron’s room. I filled her in on everything that was happening. She shared my fury. I had an advocate that would help me and I knew she would not give up until I got into that hospital. But, she had to make some calls to get some information on COVID protocols and it was going to take a little bit of time. So, I fueled up on coffee, sat down at my computer and began doing research on hospital administration.

In the Next Blog

In the next blog installment, I will tell you more about the instructions my friend gave me, what hospital administration means and how I went about reaching out to them. All the while, I was getting updates on Ron’s condition and feeling pretty desperate. Tears of frustration, fear and loneliness flowed between phone calls and cups of coffee. But, I was determined. Ron was waiting for me and I knew it.