My Covid Journey — In the Arms of Angels

"Your hands are so cold.

Let me warm them."

She cupped her gloved hands 

around my oxygen-deprived ones 

and warmed me. 

My nurse.

Jesus in flesh during a pandemic.

Was she warned not to touch covid patients?

If so, she missed that class.

I was touched,

 cared for,

prayed for,

loved.

She entered my room armed to serve.

Day after day, 

week after week, 

always a smile,

a cheery word,

a reassuring touch,

a tender hug.

She leaves with a smile.

Off to spread her angel's wings 

and blessings to the covid patients in

 the next room,  

the next room, 

the next room.

She didn't have to warm my hands.

Blood pressure. Check.

Oxygen level. Check.

Heart rate. Check.

Do you need anything? Check.

Walk out the door. Check.

Warm my hands wasn't the nurse's duty.

She didn't need a list to know

Being an angel,

representing Christ,

loving as Jesus loved,

serving others more than serving yourself

was her job this cold morning.

Employed by a hospital, but

working for Jesus.

Thank you, dear medical staff. 

You are heroes with angel's wings.

God bless you and protect you.

"See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to

guard you along the way . . . . "

Exodus 23:20

Does God want you to be someone's angel today?

My Covid Journey — Zelda — My Ticket Out of the Hospital

Zelda.

 I named this gadget Zelda.

 Not sure why. 

I didn't have brain cells left to remember it was a spirometer 

— an apparatus for measuring the volume of air inspired and expired by the lungs.

 I thought of the ugliest name I could think of 

(for I was in an ugly state of mind).

I came up with Zelda (with apologies to any Zelda's reading this). 

Zelda was my ticket out of the hospital. 

Every doctor, nurse, respiration therapist, and physical therapist

 reminded me and challenged me with this information.

I hated Zelda. 

covid pneumonia resided in both of my lungs. 

People are affected differently with covid.

 Some have headaches, some vomit. 

My body didn't have time for those maladies. 

My lungs were busy being taken over by an enemy named covid pneumonia.

Pain. 

Oh, the pain. 

Like I had never known. 

Breathe in. 

PAIN. 

Breathe out.

 PAIN. 

Every breath in and out felt like someone was 

stabbing my chest with a butcher knife.

Moving Zelda's bar to 1500 was the goal.

 I could barely move the breathing bar past 250.

Discouragement,

 pain, 

hopelessness

 grew in my heart as 

covid pneumonia filled my lungs. 

The prayers kept coming.

 Hundreds (perhaps thousands) of people praying for me. 

What a powerful cheerleading squad. 

The pain didn't subside, but

the Holy Spirit worked in my determination and will.

 I needed to see my husband. 

Zelda was my ticket home.

Over three weeks later, 

my breathing level reached 500. 

The doctors relented, 

and sent me home with my ticket — Zelda.

Ha! 

Zelda was not my ticket home!

 

 God and 

all the faithful prayers reaching Heaven on my behalf were 

my ticket home.

"And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; 

the Lord will raise them up . . . . " 

James 5:15

Thank you, dear prayers. 

You saved my life.

God used your prayers 

(with a little help from Zelda)

to make me well.

I will be thankful to Him, to you, and to Zelda

forever.

Amen.

Splashes of Serenity,