My husband Chris, a healthy 53 year old, was admitted to the ER via ambulance at St. Vincent in Indianapolis on Sept 16th.  Myself, our 22 year old daughter and Chris (presumably) contracted Covid. (We did not go to a testing facility – we just knew based on our symptoms and how sick we felt that we had covid).  For ~10 days prior to his needing to go to the hospital, we were both on early prevention treatment (Ivermectin, HCQ, Vit C, D, Zinc, Quercetin, Prednisone and other Rx for cough, nausea, letc…We had 2 doctor friends who oversaw our outpatient treatment and provided the prescriptions.) The day prior to Chris needing to go to the ER he got a home oxygen tank, as he was having difficulty keeping his oxygen above 90.  The afternoon we called the ambulance he could not keep his oxygen above 70.

Chris spent 7 days in the ICU on high flow oxygen, turning and turning and turning his body, trying to get his lungs to ‘heal’.  He went to the hospital and continued taking the early prevention treatment as he was able to (he had to sneak it as the hospital would not allow it).  I don’t know what hospital-provided medicine he was on, but I felt confident it was OK, as one of our doctor friends had hospital privileges and saw him every day (until nurse Ratchet kicked her out – more details on that story, of course). Thankfully, he was ‘too late’ in his illness to receive Remdesevir, which I and his doctor friends told him to refuse anyway.

On day 7, he was told he should give his body a rest and be vented.  Obviously having a 5-way face time call with our 3 kids was excrutiating.  But we had faith that he would be OK – he was in God’s hands.

Week 1 he rested and continued to ‘get better’.  They tried taking him off the vent once, but was unsuccessful.  I believe he became too anxious / too much in pain for them to successfully do it. So they talked about traching him. They said healthy men are the hardest to get off the vent – they cannot give up the control….

Week 2 he contracted a staph infection (maybe MRSA?  I need to look at my notes) and a horrible sinus infection.  So that week was all about getting him back to stable.

Week 3 he was getting well enough again to be trached.  In fact, by Friday, he met the requirement to be trached.  Instead of scheduling him for Saturday (the next day), they scheduled him for the following Tuesday. What I learned after the fact is that this hospital considers a trach surgery ‘elective’, and they aren’t performed on the weekend.

Week 4 Monday of the ‘waiting for the trach’ he took a giant turn for the worse.  I was told by the 4th pulmonologist (we received a new one weekly) that my husband was gravely ill and I should prepare for his death.  My doctor friends said ‘hell no’ – his heart is good, his organs are good, go fight like hell for him.  So that is what I did.  I begged for high dose vitamins – they said no.  I begged for him to be put on ECMO – they said no (he wasn’t sick enough to go on it when he arrived and now he was too sick).  I begged for him to get a lung transplant (they said he will need to be covid vaccinated first AND that most places will say no because he is too ill).  I begged for any experimental drug (they said “I’m willing to try an experimental drug but that I won’t get vaccinated?”  Ohhhh… the arguments I had with Dr. Asshole boils my blood to this day!).  Long story short, by Thursday of that week my husband was admitted to the University of Chicago hospital for him to be put on ECMO, possible lung transplant and experimental drugs (Narsoplimab – another long story, but through the help of friends and the ID doctor, Chris was approved for compassionate care use by the drug manufacturer.  Side note: this drug has achieved nearly 100% positive results in patients as sick or sicker than Chris — it’s maddening that this was denied by our government for use for Covid, but it’s all part of the sick agenda). He was going to be life-flighted Thursday night, but there was bad weather so it was postponed to Friday morning.  Friday morning the U of C doctor calls and said the board declined his admittance (I have no idea what happened within that time frame, more nefarious dealings! I mean, he had a room number at the hospital!!!). By Saturday, the Narsoplimab had arrived to St. Vincent and Chris received his first infusion.  We had hope again.  Oh, I almost forgot…. on Monday they put him on a nitric oxide machine – part of my fight to give him SOMETHING that may heal him.

Week 5 he continued to remain relatively stable, even though now he was on dialysis.  My doctor friends continued to say that this wasn’t necessarily permanent, but if it was, Chris could live with it.  It may also be this week (or week 4) where they went down his throat for a lung biopsy (I would need to look at my notes).

Week 6 he continued to improved.  I believed the Narsoplimab seemed to be working like it did in all of the other patients.  He was getting closer and closer to meeting the requirements to be trached once again.  He was getting weaned off most IV meds and the nitric oxide.  They did find mold from the biopsy, and were awaiting further results to see what type it was, but he was on broad spectrum meds to ‘cure’ it.

Week 7 Chris was finally trached.  Finally!!! I would love to do nothing more than get this policy changed so no one else in the ICU needs to stay vented with tubes down their throat for weeks on end.  Despite being trached, he continued to worsen once again.  Each day his needs for oxygen increased.  And then we got a devastating blow:  his mold was aspergillus.  I was told he could no longer be on the Narsoplimab so they could try and cure the mold, but the prognosis was not good. I will forever wonder if the mold came from the tube or something from the extended stay in the hospital.  I have had my home and myself tested for the presence of mold: none was found.

Week 8 it became abundantly clear by his high needs for oxygen and his lung x-rays that he would not recover from this illness.  Chris died surrounded by his family on November 17th at 10:45am.

In summary, I’m most upset that he was not offered/afforded additional medical treatment without me pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing.  I had care conferences, I spoke with charge nurses, I fired Dr. Asshole and the palliative care doctor, I met with the hospital ethics director about his care, I met with the nutritionist (another God-complex person who would not budge on his care) and I had daily visits from the head of the hospital janitorial department as I saw Chris’ room was only swept and the trash taken out daily (nothing else!  my toilet at home was cleaner than his room!).  And while I know the trach would not have extended his life per se, it would have made him significantly more comfortable in his fight for life.

Thank you for reading.  Shari McGrath

PS: this story was published on the AFLN Substack.