My covid Journey — Home — Unaware of the War Lurking to Destroy Me

Yay! I'm going home!. 

Little did we know by tomorrow, 

I'd be back in the hospital.

With joy and excitement Dan brought me home loaded with war weapons — 

a walker, 

potty chair, 

shower chair,

 a large and loud oxygen concentrator

 (used to pump oxygen into my lungs), 

many oxygen tanks of all shapes and sizes, 

and feet and more feet and more feet of oxygen tubes

 (used to trip us throughout the day and night). 

We were armed and ready for war! 

Doctors said the covid soldiers occupying my lungs 

would not be defeated for at least six months. 

The battle began before I ever entered my front door.

 I couldn't walk.

Heavier artillery was needed.

 We didn't realize and no one told us I might need a wheel chair. 

  Collapsed and dead weight on my front sidewalk,

 we stayed calm. 

I assured Dan

I could sit on my fanny and scoot backwards up the sidewalk.

 What a sight! 

Tough and determined, I made it to the three stairs. 

Turning over on hands and knees I crawled up three stairs

 into our beautiful, peaceful, healthy home. 

Now what? 

Our daughters arrived to help and see their much-missed mama.

 Joy and emotions overtook me and I lost my breath, literally. 

Do you know what it is like to not be able to breathe? 

It's the worst. 

Gasping for breath that isn't there even with a breathing tube.

 covid soldiers had me down and 

continued thrusting daggers into my pneumonia-filled lungs. 

Pain unbearable, 

somehow, someone got me to bed as we all wondered, 

Why didn't the doctor send or prescribe the pain meds I had at the hospital?

Early morning I could not get up. 

Gasping for breath, 

my oxygen levels plummeting, 

the pain in my chest unbearable, 

I screamed for an ambulance. 

Dear, dear EMT's. 

So loving,

 so self-sacrificing. 

Do you think they wanted to touch this covid patient? 

I'm sure not.

Were they remembering one of their own who had recently died of covid?

Were thoughts of their own danger in their minds?

 Perhaps. 

Did they want to infect themselves and the inside of their ambulance with covid soldiers? 

 No way. 

But, they did. 

They cared.

They loved.

  Thoughts of my needs prevailed.  

Off we went to the hospital 

less than 24 hours from the joy-filled ride home the day before.

This is not such a happy post.

 Yet, in the end, we won the battle. 

I'm almost off all oxygen, 

back to bike riding with my husband, 

breathing well on my own, 

the pain in my chest is gone. 

Still, covid soldiers remain in 40 percent of both lungs. 

Six months later, 

doctors say another six months of recovery. 

We wait and hope and do not lose heart.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. 

Though outwardly we are wasting away,

 yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 

For our light and momentary troubles 

are achieving for us an eternal glory that 

far outweighs them all.

 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, 

but on what is unseen. 

For what is seen is temporary, 

but what is unseen is eternal."

 2 Corinthians 4:16

Whatever is going on in your life, pray, trust Jesus, and don't give up!

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,