My Covid Journey — If I Don't Laugh, I Might Cry

It was halloween night when I was rolled into an isolation room on the covid floor. 

The best I could do for a costume was a Steeler facemask. 

Weird, with masks, I couldn't tell if my caregivers were smiling or frowning. 

Masks hide smiles, so 

I explored their eyes. 

I saw love.

I saw compassion.

 I saw concern. 

I saw exhaustion. 

My heart broke for them. 

Guilt overwhelmed me. 

I wanted to scream

 "Don't touch me! I have covid!" 

Thoughts of 

What if I give them covid?

 Oh please, Lord, don't let their children or their grandparents get covid from me.

filled my mind.

It's an awful feeling having covid. 

I wanted to be shunned for carrying this awful disease in my body. 

Kept away from all I would harm.

But shunned, I was not. 

I was loved. 

I was cared for.

 I was touched.

The first nurse came bearing IV's galore! She smiled with her eyes and said, "Well this isn't a very nice way to spend Halloween!"

"I was thinking the same thing until I realized that every two hours a masked person comes through two closed doors and takes blood out of my body while I am attached to the wall via an oxygen tube. If I try to escape, I die. Sounds a little bit like halloween to me!" 

"You're right," she said. 

We both laughed.

Laughter.

 It is good medicine. 

 The Bible tells me so. 

I like to laugh.

So, I decided whether I died or survived, 

I'd go out with a smile, 

laughing all the way to my home or to Heaven. 

 I occupied my mind with thoughts of how I could bring joy to

 tired, weary, hurting, scared healthcare workers, 

as these sweet servants brought joy to

 tired, weary, hurting, scared me. 

Keeping one's thoughts and fears off oneself and giving joy to others,

 is a healing practice.

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. 

Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,

 not looking to your own interest 

but each of you to the interests of others." 

Philippians 2:3-4

As the nurses left my room, 

 The reality of my condition came upon me. 

 I cried.

 I needed to release those tears.

 I never cried again. 

The worst part of covid aren't the tears, 

it's the guilt.

The guilt of causing such pain to the people who love you.

The guilt of possibly giving covid to a medical worker or housekeeper.

The guilt of people taking my covid home on their clothes.

The possibility I will give someone else this brutal disease.

Guilt.

It's not of the Lord. It's of satan.

I was sad.

But God won my spiritual battle.

Jesus wrapped His Arms around me and held me tight — never letting go. 

The guilt and sadness went away

as joy filled my heart.

And I laughed.

Splashes of Serenity,