COVID-19: A Medical Memoir from a Healthcare Provider Turned Patient

2020 was the year of Big Dreams for me.  In January, my husband and I spent an overnight getaway to strategically plan our year, discuss our goals, and set a plan for the course of our family's next season ahead.  In February, I was meeting regularly with my life coach to talk about my big dreams and some new ambitions I've had swirling around in my brain.  I attended a Dream Big event with Bob Goff, one of my heroes in the faith and inspirations for living a larger life outside of myself.

Then it was March, and life as we knew it came to a screeching halt. 

I awoke from my year of dreaming, eyes flying wide open, to the harsh realities around me. I experienced turmoil in my personal life that rolled into collective angst during an unprecedented worldwide pandemic.  The surreal scenes flashed before my eyes not only as a healthcare provider, but also as a patient.  

It was a Tuesday when my symptoms began.  Chills, fever, a nagging cough, body aches.  A stop at Urgent Care on my way home from working at the hospital involved confirming that I had not traveled to China and did not personally know anyone who had been diagnosed with the newest viral buzzword, COVID-19.  Therefore, I was examined as usual and tested for influenza.  When that result was negative, I was given a prescription for steroids and cough medicine and sent on my way. 

Steroids. Lest I get off on a tangent about the widely inappropriate prescribing of this drug class (and the devastating effect it has on my pediatric oncology patients who are haphazardly prescribed steroids in the urgent care setting for vague symptoms, who then are ultimately diagnosed with leukemia, and as a result are now classified as high risk because they have prematurely received steroids)... suffice it to say, I did not administer this immunosuppressing medication for my own viral symptoms. PharmD rant, over. Maybe...

Within 24 hours of my illness onset, a virus that had been thought of as "over there" was now "right here" when an NBA player tested positive for COVID-19 just before tipoff at the Thunder game in Oklahoma City, at which point our city and then our state rapidly started shutting down.  Also within 24 hours, I was laying in bed with worsening respiratory symptoms and fevers of 103 degrees.  

One week from my symptom onset, and while my fevers had resolved I continued having shortness of breath, coughing spells that left me gasping for air, no appetite, and a level of fatigue that I hadn't known since the time I actually had the flu (or maybe even since that freshman year of college when I had mono.) 

Thankfully, I had already been granted a week of vacation, which I had previously planned to spend touring State Parks with my family. Now that I was sick and our nation was in a state of mandatory "social distancing," our adventures were mostly limited to our own backyard. But knowing that I was expected to be back at work the following week, working directly with highly immunocompromised pediatric patients who have undergone a bone marrow transplant, I began to worry about my lingering symptoms. 

I spent hours on the phone with everyone who might be able to advise me on the need to undergo further testing - physician colleagues, my supervisor, employee health at my hospital, the state health department, a teledoc, urgent care. I was sent through automated system after system, and when finally getting to speak to a real person was promised they would call me back at a later time due to the volume of phone calls. I was given a non-working phone number by our state health department to the triage line that would address my concerns.  Out of all my conversations, only one physician friend was adamant that I should not return to work before getting tested to rule out COVID-19.  Everyone else brushed off my case because I "had not traveled, had no known exposures, was young and otherwise healthy with no additional risk factors." 

Did I mention I am a clinical pharmacist who works directly with severely immunocompromised patients? (In each of these conversations, I made this known.) And that I share an office space (that does not truly allow for 6 feet of separation) with three other pharmacists who work with critically ill patients? And that we couldn't possibly know if I'd been exposed to COVID-19 because we simply weren't testing people yet?  

Well, except for professional athletes and politicians. We were already testing them at the first sign of a cough. Healthcare providers, though? Prove that you have the illness before you can be tested. 

The weekend before my return to work rolled around, I was still feeling miserable with a cough that could not be contained and extreme fatigue that was wracking my body. So, despite my best efforts to avoid waiting rooms at all costs, I found myself visiting another Urgent Care clinic.  

This time, a physician took one look/listen to me [fully garbed in appropriate personal protective equipment (PPE)] and immediately ordered a chest X-ray and a COVID-19 test (after my repeat influenza test was negative.) He prescribed antibiotics and an inhaler based on his thorough exam and diagnosis, and then ordered me to self isolate at home until COVID-19 results were reported.

Here I was - a healthcare provider who was now on day 12 of respiratory symptoms during a worldwide viral pandemic - and someone was finally concerned. Now I would be out of work for the foreseeable future, instead of already having results from a test that I had inquired about days ago. 

It's not that I was hoping to have a positive result, to win the "award" for being the first healthcare provider at my hospital with this virus.  It's not that I wanted to use up a viral test that was hard to come by, and I certainly don't expect every person with symptoms to be tested.  I simply used common sense and had concern for my specific symptoms, which happened to match every common symptom of COVID-19 at the exact time it was found to be present in our community.  I simply have compassion for my young patients who are already fighting for their lives, and one exposure to this brutal virus would be absolutely devestating. I simply have respect for my medical colleagues who are working on the front lines around the clock, reusing single use PPE due to lack of resources, and quarantining themselves for weeks at a time from their own babies and spouses at home. 

Five days later my COVID-19 test result was negative, and I was cleared to return to work when my symptoms resolved completely. I finally had peace of mind that I wouldn't be a walking death trap for my patients, a detrimental domino effect to my medical colleagues, or an irresponsible citizen who was ignoring all the red flags.

Maybe you expected my result to be positive at the end of this story. Maybe you are confused as to why I took the time to record the details since I was not in fact found to have COVID-19.  If the point of this memoir is still unclear, I will say it a little louder for the people in the back (who are currently trying to keep their sanity at home while trying to balance work, providing 3 meals a day for their quarantined family on limited grocery options, attempting to homeschool their kids, all the while praying to God that they still have a job tomorrow.)

Healthcare workers are risking their own health and the health of their families every single day. They are working tirelessly, though they are exhausted. But they don't have the resources they need. They have to jump through hoops when they need care for themselves. They are expected to power through, to be there when the world needs them. But when they need medical attention for themselves,  they are often brushed over because they are "otherwise healthy." They watch public figures magically have access to scarce resources that are "reserved" for a select few.  They watch politicians boast that their state has the virus under control, while actually having no idea what the real numbers are (because widespread testing is not taking place in some states, including mine). They may be ill, carrying the very virus that they are trying to protect their patients from, and it may take 12 days for someone to take them seriously. And by then, it may be too late. Luckily, that is not my story. But it may easily become someone else's.

Advocate for yourself when you know something isn't right. Be okay with being "wrong" for the sake of doing the right thing. And stay home. If you feel sick, if you feel well. Please just stay home. Assume that you could be a carrier of this virus and that every person you come into contact with could be devastated by your interaction.  But don't live in fear. Live in love for the people around you. Ask for help when you need it, and offer it generously to others. Be a light in these dark times, trusting that we will come out on the other side with renewed compassion, stronger resilience, and a brighter hope.  

And please, be extra kind to your healthcare providers during these unprecedented times. 

Be well,

L

P.S. Don't worry... this "year of big dreams" is far from over! It just looks a little different right now :)

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
 -2 Timothy 1:7