I’ve been down for the count since the end of February. I was tested once for Covid-19 on March 25th and it came up negative but the ER doctor and my primary are positive that I did have it. Both encouraged me to retest in a few days but I declined. The treatment plan wouldn’t have changed so what would be the point really? So I hunkered down and quarantined at home like so many others.
As you know I live with my son who is 12 and so in an effort to not contaminate him with my germs I in essence turned my bedroom into a studio with the exception of a bathroom because we only have one in our house. So we got a mini fridge and a second microwave as I was going to be living the dorm life. (Joey was super excited about this because he called dibs on them after I was all better for his room so he’d have a real “man” cave – it’s the little things I tell you.) He’d be living the bachelor lifestyle of his dreams. He could leave his dirty clothes on the floor and I wouldn’t care. He could eat all the snacks in the world and I wasn’t gonna care. Jokes on him as there were only healthy snacks to be had.
We communicated through our bedroom doors. Sharing laughs when we could and tears when we couldn’t. There were scary days where I couldn’t breathe. Going down the stairs to use the restroom was difficult because I had to do a breathing treatment just to be able to get enough oxygen into my lungs to make the accent back up. But I managed it and we’d count it a win. Some days he’d have to don his mask and help me. It’s the little things.
My sister Crystal, who herself was recovering from shoulder surgery, and her hubby Jeff filled in for me. Grocery shopping and getting my meds and helping to parent my son became their norm. More importantly to me was them having Joey over for dinner several times a week or just to watch a movie on TV with them. Sometimes Jeff would create a project at their house that he needed “help” with just so Joey could get out and have something productive to do and for a time be away from having to worry about his momma. Making his life seem somewhat normal. Thank goodness for family. It’s the little things. The little blessings disguised in the ordinary, everyday things.
Some days Joey and I would put on the same movie in each of our rooms so we could watch it “together”. Getting our joy wherever we could in small measures each day. We’d often choose movies we’d already seen that are some of our favorites because we both needed a guaranteed happy ending. Some this was even beyond me and all I could do was sleep, do breathing treatments and then sleep some more.
Eating was difficult because I literally had no appetite and no energy to eat even if I did. But I have a child. A child I love more than anything and that I want to be here for to enjoy the simple pleasures life has to offer with. So I’d eat. Usually a can of soup or cottage cheese with pineapple, something simple and quick. Joey on the other hand got creative. He loves to cook and so he was busting out his phone and googling all kinds of new fish recipes – his favorite and cooking with combinations of spices I never would have thought to put together. He’d text me photos of his creations and make me smile with his creative plating stylings. I’m telling you it’s the little things life offers you that keep you going when you don’t think you have one more breath in you.
The hardest part for me was trying to comfort my son when I couldn’t hold him close to reassure him. When I didn’t know how to answer his hard questions like, “Mom if you stop breathing do I call Aunty Crystal first or the squad?” or “If you die do you want to be buried or cremated?”. We had really hard discussions about what was on the nightly news and that it wasn’t fair that they weren’t always trying to resucitate patients in the hospitals who coded because it could do more harm than good without a good chance of recovery any way. I have several underlying health conditions. Fibromyalgia is only one of them. I have several other more serious ones. I knew I didn’t want to be put on a ventilator and most hospitals weren’t offering Cpsp or Bipap options prior to being put on ventilators which are so hard on the lungs. I also knew I didn’t want to be exposed to anyone elses germs increasing my risks just that much more. I also didn’t want medical staff making life and death decisions for me. I have a child. A child I love more than anything. If I code I damn well want CPR. I want to be shocked. In the hospital they may choose not to do that because it’s to high a risk to the medical staff if they feel my odds of making it are below average. Or if the administration has given the directive that if you have “x” underlying conditions and are over the age of “x” then you don’t try to resuscitate. At home I’m fortunate to have the Chief of our local Fire Department who is a I first responder living right across the street. I’m guaranteed to get the response I want if I stop breathing. I’m guaranteed to get a quick response as the fire house is right around the corner from my home. Again it’s the little things.
It’s been a little over four months and I’m finally starting to feel better. I’m down to one breathing treatment on most days plus the use of an inhaler. I’m no longer bedridden and Joey and I now get to truly watch movies together. I’ve gotten to grocery shop for myself though it physically wiped me out for several days. I’m still sticking very close to home and will be wearing a mask for at least the next year according to my doctor’s but I’ll take that as a win because I’m breathing and I get to hug my kid. Feel the sun on my face. Walk my dog.
It’s the little things.