I am a Survivor

I am a Survivor. I am fragile, I am broken but still I am strong.

I survived, though some didn’t, including the lady in the bed opposite me and the one in the bed next to me. I returned home from hospital a few months ago after being admitted with COVID-19. It as a scary experience, not least because I heard these two poor ladies pass away. I heard their struggle for each breath, the shouts for someone to help them, for God, pleading and moaning and gurgling as the life ebbed from them.

It was not until I started to get better that I realise I had been in a similar state, and the COVID has caused similar effects on my body, ie pneumonia, acute kidney injury, dehydration, low oxygen saturation, breathlessness, confusion, loss of taste/appetite, loss of smell, diarrhoea, anaemia. I too could have died.

I was the only BAME person in my bay, and I did notice some differences. I always seemed to be the last one to get meals, observations, or meds. I wasn’t routinely asked whether I required pain relief, and when I did ask, I didn’t always get it. And only once during my stay did I get asked if I wanted to have a wash. It was amazing to see some of the things that come up in literature about health in-equalities actually happening to me! Still, I am grateful to the staff who worked hard and ensured that I got better. They were obviously overworked and and as fragile as me from losing so many lives.

It was so lonely being hospital with no visitors allowed. I am grateful that I had my phone, and received all the messages of support and encouragement from colleagues, friends and family. I was also able to video-chat with Hubby, and see that cats who I missed so much. It warmed my heart too knowing people from church were praying for me, and to receive a visit from the hospital chaplain (organised by a dear friend and the chaplain at the hospital where I work).

There is just too much COVID stuff going on. Being locked in for nearly a year yet still getting the virus has been hard; not being able to go and comfort my cousin who lost her partner from COVID has been hard; not being able to get physical comfort from others has been hard; not seeing anyone face to face or having real conversations has been hard; so many people dying is hard; the controversy over conspiracy theories and anti-vaxers is hard. Sometimes I feel as if I’m going to explode from all of it to be honest.

There is just so much death and devastation going on, so many of our people disproportionately being lost or affected by this terrible virus. We’ve heard about one other black male friend that has died, and two more friends that are positive, one on ICU in hospital. We have attended four funerals (either virtually, or socially distanced) in as many weeks.

I keep getting flashbacks now to when I was in the hospital, not being able to breathe, feeling so thirsty and tired and afraid. The most awful thing, that I’ve mentioned before is the sound of the poor ladies next to me gurgling and fighting for breath, and calling out for someone to help them. Once again, I realise how my story could have ended so differently.

Negative thoughts

I need to acknowledge these thoughts and feelings. I have felt so overwhelmed with emotions that I feel like I'm going to explode. I feel so much literal pressure in my head, like there is too much information – images, feelings, thoughts, etc to be contained by my small brain. I feel as if I just want the anguish to end, to put a stop to the fear and anger and panic about life that I am feeling right now.

I know that I need comfort at the moment, to be touched and held and hugged to make me feel safe. In the lockdown it’s impossible, and I feel so alone. I know that without effort I will withdraw into myself, and stop making contact, sending messages, arranging virtual coffee’s etc. It’s so hard to reach out, and the people I love are all suffering with their own grief, worry and anger. Colleagues are busy, either with other colleagues in the office, or alone too working from home. These times are suffocating, and it is hard to see a bright future even though the number of cases are allegedly levelling off, and the vaccination programme is ramping up. Even with the five stage plan it’s still hard to plan for the future.

However we do have a glimmer of hope; we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Even though it's difficult, we do make plans of what we will do - meeting friends and family, a drink or a meal, a holiday ... a HUG!