July 15th, 2021 was the onset of my symptoms. My son had been sick since Monday that week we did not have him tested as we were trying to avoid testing due to the numbers being inflated. Also he had been sick a couple of months before and had gotten over it just fine so we figured he did not have Covid. My daughter had come over to play games with us that night knowing that my son was sick, but came anyway. By the end of the evening when she went home, I started feeling feverish. I went to bed hoping that it was not the big C. When I woke up the next day, I was very weak, tired and had a terrible cough. Friday, I picked up another son from a church camp and he was coughing terribly, felt weak and was tired. By Saturday my daughter had called me and said that she was also not feeling well, coughing and feverish. By Monday the 20th, my daughter called me in the morning and said that she had been to urgent care where she had pneumonia and they had given her some medication. I thought that must be what it is even though they told her she was not contagious and could go back to work anytime.  She worked in the hospital. She had gotten the vaccine because she did not want to lose her job at the hospital.  Last time I had pneumonia, I was told it was not contagious; however everyone around me had had it and somehow I got it.

So thinking that I must have pneumonia and my son as well, I took him with me to the same urgent Care that my daughter went to. We were asked if we were vaccinated to which we replied no. They did a Covid test on us and said it would take up to 10 days to get the results back and to go home.  There was nothing they could do. I told the doctor that we were following my daughter who had been there earlier and that she had pneumonia and was given medications, could they please check to see if we had pneumonia. The doctor said that our lungs sounded clear and that there was nothing she could do until she had the results of our Covid test. So we went home. My daughter said that they immediately tested her and she tested negative so they x-rayed her lungs, found pneumonia and gave her the medication.

Tuesday, I was feeling a little bit worse so I decided to go to a different Urgent Care. In my area there was Banner Urgent Care and UC Health Urgent Care. The first one that I went to was Banner, so this time I decided to try UC Health. The doctor at this urgent care was friendlier and asked if I had been vaccinated.  She said it was okay if I had not been, but she had to know.  I told her I was not.  She said that is fine I will go ahead and x-ray your lungs.  They tested me for Covid. The x-ray of my lungs indicated that I did have pneumonia. The doctor was writing a prescription for me, but then an aid had opened the door and gave her my Covid results which was from a rapid test at this urgent Care. I tested positive for Covid.   Therefore, she ripped up the prescription that she was writing and said that it would not help the viral Covid infection. She gave me something to help the coughing and said that’s all she could do so I went home.

Wednesday, I was going even further downhill, my sons were still coughing, but they did not seem as weak and feverish as I was. I went to the emergency room at UC health. Upon arriving at the emergency room, I was told to go sit over there, meaning an area where no one else was sitting.  I might add I was told very loudly to sit there to not contaminate everyone. While I was sitting there, I heard a nurse exclaim very loudly that the Delta variant was running rampant and everyone was looking at me.  I could barely breathe and I was miserable. I don’t know the amount of time that I sat there while a group of nurses were huddled together talking and looking back at me.   Someone finally took me back and started asking me all the questions. I was asked if I was vaccinated to which I replied I was not. The reply I got to that was “why not? All of your other vaccinations are up to date why did you not get this one?” I said that I had several reasons and that I was still thinking about it. I said that I had concerns about what was in the vaccine that I would be putting in my body as well as religious concerns.  Additionally, I said that I had not made a decision yet and was still thinking about it.  Now it was too late. I was taken to a room and left to sit there for what seemed like a lot of time, but I have no way of knowing. A nurse finally came in and put me on oxygen explaining how the machine works and said that it was at a level two to start with, but that if I got to the point that it was at level six that I needed to call 911. The doctor said that he could have prescribed me a steroid, but that he did not want to infringe on my religious concerns. Not that I have ever been against medications, I only mentioned religious concerns over the vaccination. They said that they could admit me to which I said I did not want to be admitted based on the way I was treated thus far. I went home with the oxygen.

I was doing okay on Thursday nothing had really changed. I was still at a level 2 occasionally bumped it up to level three or four on the oxygen, but was doing okay. By Friday I was not doing okay.  I was very very weak. I would get worn out just walking across the room.  I was coughing and could not speak more than a couple of words without coughing. I had not thought about my chiropractor up until this time, as we have been leaning more towards homeopathic medicine.  It was a Friday and his office was closed.  I began searching for other options. I called some other Chiropractic health places and was directed to one that specialized in treating COVID with Chinese herbs and acupuncture. I thought at this point, I would try anything. The doctors were very kind. They did a telehealth appointment for me and my boys even though there was a bad thunderstorm that knocked all the power out. They were able to prescribe me some herbs and a pill form of herbs for my sons to take that would be ready for me by the following day. I sent my daughter to pick these up on Saturday and I followed all of the instructions Saturday night into Sunday morning.

By Sunday morning, I was panicking and I was at the last level of oxygen. I was very weak and I could not speak more than two words.  I was still running fever at this point so I decided to go to the hospital. I texted my husband who was working out of town and said that I was ready to call the ambulance. We discussed that I would probably be intubated and decided that it couldn’t be so bad thinking I would just be asleep for a few days. So I called 911 and the ambulance transported me to the hospital which was really only a couple of blocks away. They put me on such a high level of oxygen that I could not keep up with it to breathe. I was there for some time when they said that there was no room at the hospital and they had to transfer me to a different one.  We were just waiting for the ambulance. The second ambulance finally arrived and took me to Northern Colorado Medical Center in Greeley.

I remember that they cut my clothes off of me and talked to my husband on the phone.  They then intubated me right away. I did not know anything for the following 10 days except for the horrific nightmares that I was having. The dreams were very, very real.  I could have sworn I was released from the hospital and that I was at a family party.  My family was lavishing me with gifts that were very, very heavy that I could not move out from under them. I was dreaming that my kids were in danger where I was bound and could not do anything to help them. I dreamt of ambulances and being tied up while my kids suffered on the other side. I felt helpless.  I couldn’t do anything for them. I dreamt that I had been released to a rehabilitation place.  I had gotten mad and left because they would not even let me use the bathroom. I also dreamt that I had left my kids there and that somehow I ended up in the basement of the hospital seeing lots of bloody, gory things like aborted babies.

The first night that I remember being awake, I had the nurse from hell. He was very impatient with me. He would come in and ask if I had pushed the call light to which I did not think I did.  He would then yell at me.  He said this is why we wake up sleeping patients because we think the call lights are going off or something to that effect. The only thing I could figure out, is that they had me packed in with so many pillows that possibly the pillows were pushing the buttons on the side of the bed. At one point, I thought maybe the pulse ox machine on my finger was the call light that they taped to my finger for some reason and so I managed to get it off. When the nurse noticed that it was off of my finger, he yelled at me to stop taking things off and messing with things. At one point, I told the nurse that I had to throw up.  His response was, why do you think you have to throw up? I said I don’t know, but then immediately began throwing up all over the place.  All the nurse could do was cuss at me.   He opened the door and yelled for people to come help.  He then continued to cuss at me saying “oh my effing God oh my effing God”!  I was choking on my own vomit and I was truly scared at this point. Once they finally managed to get me cleaned up, the nurse was attempting to position my bed and I kept asking him to tilt my bed up so I could be in a sitting position. I was scared that if I had thrown up again, I would aspirate if lying on my back. That was the longest night of my life.  I kept waiting for the doctor to come in.  I was told that the doctors  make their rounds at 6:00 a.m. I kept watching the clock.

By the time 6:00 a.m. finally arrived, there was no doctor. I waited and waited for a doctor to come see me. While I was waiting, I was watching a girl out the window and thought perhaps it was my daughter as she waved at me. My daughter was an employee at the first hospital that I was taken to. I had forgotten by this time that I was taken to a different hospital. So when I saw the girl again, I waved at her to come in. The daytime nurse came in and asked who I thought I might be waving to which I explained that I thought my daughter was out there. She said that she was the only one out there and that I must be delirious. I waved her off and said you don’t know. I demanded to speak to a doctor, but was told that the doctor had already been in and what the plan was. I was told that I would continue on a high level of oxygen that I could barely keep up with.  At that moment, I started pulling at the tubes and so no there must be another plan.  I want to go home.  I cannot go through another night like the one I had last night. This nurse actually turned out to be rather nice.  I apologized for the way I had treated her in the morning because she had actually been there for me all day. I was not allowed to go to the bathroom, but was having to use my bed without a bedpan.  I had diarrhea all day which made for a lot of work for her. That night, I did not have the same nurse.  I did not sleep for the following three days.  Anyone who did come in the room, would say you need to get your rest.  However, I could not sleep. I was scared to death after the vomit incident.  I would have a nurse come to the window, look in at me, wave and walk away. I was scolded for using the call light and asking to be turned.  I was told that the nurses were very busy dealing with Covid patients.  After being scolded in this way, I would watch out the window see nurses having pretend sword fights with each other. I was not allowed any visitors at any time.  By the 13th day, I was allowed to have one visitor. My daughter came to visit.  My other two sons and daughter visited from the parking lot looking through the window.

My total hospital stay was 16 days.  They considered putting me in rehab facility which I adamantly denied. I managed to get a physical therapist who would say that I was okay to go home. I had three kids fending for themselves at home during this time. I was to go home and have a home health nurse visit me to help me up and down my stairs. The home health nurse missed their appointment because I thought I was having blood clots and had my son take me to the emergency room. I was not having blood clots, but nevertheless missed that home health appointment. My bedroom was upstairs which is where my shower was. By this time, I had not had a decent shower in about 17 days. I managed to get myself up the stairs and take a shower so I canceled any further home health appointments. I went to my primary care doctor as instructed who wanted to keep me on oxygen for the next several months. He also informed me that he would not expect me to be vaccinated right away, but that I needed to be as soon as I was well. At this point, I was scared to death to be vaccinated given the way I react to flu shots and get the flu anyway. I was scared I would get Covid again. I never went to see that doctor again. I weaned myself off of the oxygen.

I did not know anything about Remdesivir at the time of my hospitalization. I did not know anything about it until December when we admitted both of my parents into the hospital with Covid (see stories for Helen Johnson and Malcolm Johnson).  It never occurred to me to ask for my medical records as it never occurred to me any other time I had been in the hospital. Not until finding the C19 widows that want Justice Facebook group, did it occur to me to ask for my medical records and find out if I was given Remdesivir. I was given Remdesivir, fentanyl and several other drugs.

I am doing okay. I am still hoarse and have a hard time finding my voice.  My vocal cords were damaged while being ventilated and I still have a tickle in my lungs that causes me to cough occasionally.

My journey through this Covid nightmare continues like I said with my parents illness in December. My brother and I had them admitted to the hospital and lost them there. I will forever carry tremendous guilt for having admitting them to the hospital and having not learned from my own experience.