My husband and I both got Covid-19. We were doing well under our daughter’s care, taking vitamins, antibiotics and Ivermectin. My husband was recovering from colon cancer chemotherapy and taking cyclosporine. It’s a  drug that lowers one’s immunity to keep his Myacinia Gravis in remission.  He was also compromised by some heart issue, but he was doing well. We had just spent a lovely evening with friends before we became ill. We were also using a nebulizer.  My daughter had obtained a hospital-grade oxygen machine from some friends. But we were unable to keep my husbands’ oxygen levels up and were forced to call the paramedics.  They almost begged us not to send him to the hospital, because his vitals were ok , and we were giving him the same treatment they would give him there.

Once there, we received little information from the doctors and nurses, other than that we were foolish to not be vaccinated.  The pulmonologist refused to give him the antibiotics or any vitamins, and we refused Remdesivir for days. My husband was confused and terrified, the result of Covid dementia, according to this doctor. My daughter spoke with the head nurse, convincing her I needed to be there with him.  After getting permission for a one hour visit, we called the next morning. But no one had ever heard of this nurse, so my daughter started all over to make this happen.

When I finally got to the floor, my husband was still in his clothes after 4 days. He was terribly frightened and confused.  I was able to stay with him and help out for about 2 hours, followed by longer visits the next 3 days.  He was on the lowest level of oxygen and doing well until nighttime. when he tried to remove the nosepiece. So they put the C-pap  on him with no warning or anti-anxiety drugs.  As a result, he was afraid to go to sleep. The C-pap mask didn’t fit him, so his lip would fall out of it, and an alarm would ring.  I offered to shave his beard, but they said no.

We finally consented to Remdesivir and they began the first 2 infusions. The night I left him, his oxygen level was at 96% on the lowest level of help. I had been patting his back, which had been ordered but not done by the nurses. In their defense, they were understaffed. He was very lucid. We discussed the fact that the doctors had told him he would be there for 3 more weeks.  He spoke to his grandchildren on the phone, ate something with my help, and then I left.

At 3:00 in the morning, the hospital called to say he was in UCU,  refusing to go on a ventilator, and they wanted me to hear him say that.  They would make him comfortable, and we could come in to say good-bye the next morning.  It was the first time he had been in a hospital gown.  We were able to be with him for 2 hours before he passed away.