A Brush With COVID-19

 

It would be difficult to write a blog in 2020/ 2021 without making some mention of COVID-19. The virus has had such a profound effect on human lives and livelihoods in every part of the world. Looking back at 2020, it is sobering to think how completely unprepared we were for a global pandemic. 

Reports of a new coronavirus hit the headlines in January 2020. Not much was known about the virus (named SARS-CoV-2) except that it had originated in Wuhan City, China and caused a flu-type illness (named COVID-19). It was reported that the virus could have serious health effects - causing severe breathing difficulties - and potentially had a high death rate, particularly amongst the elderly and those with underlying health conditions. When these first reports came out I was not overly concerned. The virus seemed far away from the shores of the UK and I rather naively thought that the impacts might be similar to that of previous bird and swine flu epidemics. I didn’t appreciate just how quickly the virus would spread across the globe and how high the death toll might be. I certainly didn’t foresee the sheer scale of the changes to everyday life that were to come in 2020.

I started to pay more attention to news about the virus in February 2020. By this time SARS-CoV-2 had established itself in Italy and was sweeping across into Europe. In March 2020, my daughter decided to do a school homework project on the virus and one weekend we set about making a model of a coronavirus particle using polystyrene balls and toothpicks. We painted our model a garish pink and purple. To accompany the model my daughter wrote a short essay about the new virus and its possible origins. A few days after we finished the homework project my husband became very ill....with COVID-19.

My husband was one of the first people in Yorkshire to contract COVID-19 and was in hospital for a total of ten days. At first we had a hard time convincing the NHS (National Health Service) that he actually had the virus. He was very unwell and had many coronavirus symptoms including a persistent cough, fever, headaches, diarrhoea and difficulty breathing. Our GP dismissed our fears saying that there were no reported cases of COVID-19 in our region and therefore it was very unlikely that my husband could have contracted it. When my husband’s symptoms continued to get worse I called NHS111 (the emergency advice line) and was told the same thing – there is no COVID-19 in Yorkshire so don’t worry it’s probably just the ‘flu. That night my husband's breathing became ragged and his fever climbed so high that he started to hallucinate and talk nonsense. Fearing some sort of stroke, I rushed him to the local Accident and Emergency department. The nurses separated us from all of the other patients and put my husband on oxygen. After examining my husband and asking me questions about his symptoms (Hubby was still talking gibberish, bless him) the Doctor declared that this was the most textbook case of COVID-19 that he had seen to date. My husband was then admitted onto a ward pending a COVID-19 test.

The hospital wasn’t at all prepared to deal with COVID-19 when my husband was admitted so the next ten days can only be described as organised chaos! The whole of the first day I was allowed to stay with my husband in his room. I was given some PPE to wear, which was pointless since I’d already been well and truly exposed to any virus he might have. I was told that I could return the following day with clean pyjamas and toiletries.

When I arrived at the hospital the following morning I was given an ear-bashing from a grumpy nurse – my husband was in isolation and nobody was allowed to visit him. A little upset, I phoned my husband from the corridor to let him know that I couldn’t see him or give him his things. Moments later Grumpy Nurse stormed out of the ward and grabbed the bag with his pyjamas and toiletries. She told me to go home and isolate for two weeks because I was infectious. Somewhat puzzled I asked her if it had been confirmed that my husband had COVID-19 to which she replied “Yes, did nobody tell you?” before stomping back onto the ward. I phoned my husband when I got home and explained to him that he had COVID-19. Apparently, nobody had told him either!

The next few days were hellish! Every day I would go through the same crazy charade:

1. Telephone the hospital for an update. 

2. Telephone my husband to reassure him that everything was OK and that he was receiving the best care. 

3. Update family, friends and work colleagues.

4. Collapse into a little heap of lupus pain, worry and fatigue.  

The problem was that there was never any information available and I truly had no idea how my husband was doing. It didn't seem to matter what time I called the hospital, I would be told the same thing - the doctors haven't done their rounds yet so there's no information. I began to wonder if the hospital actually employed any doctors. My husband wasn't being given any information either (or perhaps he was too confused to understand what he was being told) and as the days went by he became more and more upset. He simply didn’t understand what was happening to him, nobody would tell him anything, and he just wanted to come home. The whole situation was incredibly distressing

With the benefit of hindsight I can understand the immense stress that the hospital staff were under when my husband was admitted. My husband was one of the first COVID-19 cases that they had to deal with and they were effectively learning on the job. I was aware from my first day in the hospital that PPE was in short supply and the nurses were probably terrified by the prospect of contracting the virus and passing it on to their loved ones. Overall, the NHS did a fantastic job of looking after my husband during his illness and I cannot thank the hospital staff enough for the care they provided.  

Ten days after my husband was admitted, the hospital called me to say that he was recovering well and being discharged. I don't have the words to tell you how relieved I felt on receiving this news. It was as if an enormous weight had been lifted off my chest and I could finally breathe again. Until that moment I don't think I had fully appreciated just how worried and anxious I had been. 

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Given the stress associated with my husband being ill and in hospital it was almost inevitable that my lupus symptoms would flare up and just to add to my misery, a few days into my husband’s hospital stay the whole of the UK went into Lockdown. Sheer adrenaline kept me going for the first couple of days but eventually my body rebelled. My joints began to scream blue murder, I was deathly tired and a bright red malar rash was firmly emblazoned across my cheeks. It was at that moment, when I needed the support of my husband the most, that I found myself completely alone and helpless. When somebody cares for you on a day-to-day basis it is easy to slip into a routine and begin to take that person's help for granted. It is only when that support system is suddenly removed that you realise how vulnerable an autoimmune illness (or any chronic illness) can make you. 

The first problem I encountered in Lockdown was food. My husband and I live out in the country and I cannot drive whilst taking my pain medication. The nearest food shop is in the next village about two miles away and so for the past two years I had been happily doing my grocery shopping online and having it delivered. When lockdown was announced on the 23rd March 2020 the whole of the UK suddenly wanted to buy their groceries online. There were no delivery slots available for any of the supermarkets – everything was booked out solidly for weeks. To compound the problem, people were clearing the shelves of products – staple products like flour, pasta and toilet paper sold out in hours. Packets of dried pasta were changing hands for criminal amounts of money on eBay. So, there I was alone and unwell doing a stock-take of the food items in my kitchen. The cats went on a diet whilst I lived on rations of breakfast cereal and crisps (potato chips).

The second problem I had was getting my prescription medicine, which my husband usually collects for me. I could order my medicine on-line but I couldn’t collect it without embarking on a two mile hike to the next village. The news was full of tales of charitable people organising themselves to help neighbours who couldn’t get out and about. There didn't seem to be anybody offering these services around here though. Who could I ask for help? I started wondering whether I could ask a neighbour to collect my medicine for me. What would they think of a stranger turning up on their doorstep asking if they wouldn't mind collecting a bottle of morphine? 

Fortunately, my husband was returned home to me before I needed to ask for outside help. However, my brush with COVID-19 has certainly given me pause for thought. It has made me appreciate just how much my husband does to support me through my illness and how lucky I am to have him.