My road to recovery following a positive COVID-19 test result.

Over the past few weeks, both Sophie and I have had quite a few people tell us that I'm the only person they know who has been hit hard with covid. So, having got over the worst of it (🤞🏾) and continuing to improve by the day, I thought I'd share my story, for those that are interested.

After feeling a bit crap, I got a test which returned positive on the 8th of January.  For the next few days, I felt like I had a pretty decent case of man flu, but nothing I couldn't handle. I was banished to the bedroom and waited on, hand and foot by my amazing wife (even if she did have to leave my food and drink at the door).

By the 11th, my symptoms had started to get worse. Shortness of breath, fever, loss of taste, smell and appetite.

By the 13th, my symptoms had escalated so much, that Sophie decided to call 111, who promptly arranged for an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

I spent the day in A&E on a drip, due to being dehydrated and was given some paracetamol for my fever.  I was given a chest x-ray and all the other relevant tests in relation to my symptoms and positive test result. After about 6 hours, I was told that along with the covid, I also had "mild pneumonia", but that my stats / vital signs were borderline, but not bad enough that I needed to be admitted onto a ward. I was sent home with a course of steroids and strict instructions that if my symptoms deteriorated in anyway, that I was to call 999 and come straight back. I actually left A&E that evening feeling 10x worse than I did going in, mainly due to my fever and extreme fatigue, but thinking I'd be better off recovering at home, even if my symptoms did get a bit worse.

Well, get worse they did.

By the evening of the 14th, my breathing had got worse, as well as the fever, and I had upgraded to vomiting.

Even so, after my last experience, I was determined to avoid going back to A&E and I tried convincing Soph that I was ok and didn't need to go back. She wasn't having it.

She called 111 again, who again arranged for an ambulance and paramedics to come and check me over. When they arrived, I did my very best to put on a brave face and tried to convince them I was doing better. However, my vital signs were telling a different story.

After a lengthy conversation with Soph and the paramedics, I remained steadfast that I wasn't going back to the hospital and told them all I was happy to recover at home and didn't feel the need to go back to A&E ... That’s when the paramedics tone changed ... unbeknownst to me, they'd already explained this to Sophie, but the chances of me declining and ultimately dying if I stayed at home were considerably high. So even though the paramedics couldn’t make me go with them, when she mentioned the word death, I figured I'd better go. So back to the hospital I went.

Four more hours in A&E and more tests and needles, and in the early hours of the 15^th it was determined that my condition had deteriorated, and I was admitted onto one of the covid wards. I was initially told that I just needed a bit of supplementary oxygen and I'd probably be ok to leave in the afternoon, worst case scenario I'd be in for 24 hours...

24 hours came and went as my condition rapidly deteriorated. It was like my lungs were shrinking by the hour, with my fever becoming almost unbearable.

The simplest of tasks became almost impossible to complete, as I just couldn't breathe. If I needed to use the toilet, I had to be attached to a portable oxygen tank just so I could breathe. And even then, it felt like the equivalent to running hill sprints for an hour!

Now the days kind of blur into one for me from this point, but after about 2 days on the 'normal' ward and my condition continuing to decline, the decision was taken to move me to the Intensive Care Unit. This was also when they told me that I'd need to lose my beard due to the mask I'd need to wear in ICU. The worst part is that I was physically unable to shave myself, so had to rely on 2 fantastic nurses to do it for me (and what a great job they did 😊).

At the time, I still didn't quite realise how bad my situation was. I was still of the mindset that "it'll never happen to me" and "it's only the flu, how bad can it get?!" Given everything I'd gone through to that point, and what I know now, I’m aware that sounds quite ridiculous.

It wasn't until I was taken on to the ICU ward, being wheeled past people in induced comas with machines breathing for them, that the severity of my situation really hit me. In fact, I was actually the only patient in my bay that was conscious and (just about) able to breathe without a ventilator.

Once I'd been taken to my room, I was given my CPAP 'hood'. The objective of the hood is to basically pump oxygen into it at a high volume to help open my lungs back up. Now I hadn't considered myself as claustrophobic, but this 'hood' was horrible (to put it lightly)! 

My condition had got so bad that any movement would require maximum effort and would literally take my breath away and result in coughing fits where it was almost impossible for me to breathe.

It was during my first night on ICU while wearing this 'hood' that I had my first severe coughing episode. The coughing was so bad that I literally could not catch my breath. This was the first time during my stay in ICU that I genuinely thought I was about to die.

This happened three times over the next few days, with each time being worse than the last.  Not being able to control your own breathing, literally gasping for air between coughing uncontrollably, is something I never want to experience again.  Three times during my time in intensive care, I really believed I was going to die.

After not getting on with the CPAP hood, I was changed to the CPAP mask. The mask has the same objective as the hood - to force oxygen into your lungs - but the mask makes it feel like you've got your head out of a car window, driving at about 90 miles an hour, against the wind! Not pleasant at all, but for me, it was better than having what is essentially a plastic bag over my head. The mask didn't stop the coughing, but it did make it a tiny bit easier to lay down properly.

On my second day in ICU, I was assigned a nurse, who I can only describe as an angel. Her name was Christine, and I credit her with playing one of the biggest parts in my recovery. Every single member of staff I met were quite simply amazing, but for me Christine stood out and was fantastic in helping me on my journey out of intensive care.

I won't go into the physiology of it, but it turns out that one of the best things you can do to aid the recovery process for covid-19, is to lay on your front...It sounds so simple.

It SOUNDS so simple. But when every movement seems to take the same effort as fighting 12 rounds and brings on uncontrollable coughing, it’s definitely easier said than done! So much so, that for the first 2 days I couldn't even manage to turn onto my front. The best I could manage was to just about lay on my side while I slept throughout the night.

On the morning of my third day in intensive care and with my condition still deteriorating, I was told by the consultant that it was likely that I'd need to be sedated and put on a ventilator, with this being my best option to get my oxygen levels back up to where they needed to be. 

This was the same morning that I got the news that my dear nan had passed away during the night (after testing positive for covid). Needless to say, this was not a good morning, but Christine was amazing in comforting me and focusing my mind on my recovery.

My last throw of the dice, before the need for a ventilator, was to try laying on my front while being hooked up to the CPAP mask - and all the other tubes and wires for my drips (one in each arm), ECG, pulse oximeter and art-line.

Again, it sounds so simple, but I literally could not manage turning in bed by myself, under my own power. It was Christine that came up with the exact plan for getting me on to my front.  With the help of another nurse, they managed to get me onto a chair next to the bed (which brought on the second of the coughing episodes that had me struggling for breath and thinking I was going to die), so that she could arrange the pillows so that I'd get the most out of being on my front and be as comfortable as possible. She washed me and helped me change into some clean clothes. They both then helped me to my feet and back into bed - on my front!

Almost immediately, my vital signs started to improve. Laying on my front was working, and ultimately saved me from needing to be sedated and put on a ventilator. It sounds so simple.

Obviously laying on your front comes with a few logistical problems. All of which Christine helped me navigate during the first day on my front.

I ended up needing to stay in intensive care using the CPAP mask for 5 days.

I didn’t know it until about my 4th day in ICU, but Sophie was getting daily updates from my doctor about my worsening condition and had too been told that I was likely going to need to be sedated and put on a ventilator. So my daily texts telling her I was getting better and would be home soon, so as not to worry her, turned out to be a waste of time. How she put on a brave face and kept everything together, while not knowing if/when her husband would be home, I'll never know. My wife is amazing!

On that 5th day, being told I was well enough to go back onto the 'normal' ward and if my recovery continued on the same trajectory as it had been, that I'd be able to go home in a matter of days and knowing that Soph was getting the same news from my doctor, was almost like being told I'd won the lottery!

Being wheeled back through the ICU ward, past all the other patients on ventilators, made me realise how lucky I was to have not needed such invasive treatment.

I'm not a religious or even a particularly spiritual man, but on the day my nan passed, I was able to get onto my front, which proved to be the catalyst for my eventual recovery. I do believe that, along with the help from Christine, my nan gave me her last little bit of strength to help me get onto my front and get back to my family.

On my first night back on the 'normal' covid ward, I still had to wear the CPAP mask throughout the night, albeit with a reduced O2 level, and I still struggled to do a lot of things myself without coughing or getting out of breath (though I did manage to have my first sit-down-shower in over a week!), but just being that one step closer to going home made me feel like a new person and seemed to give me that bit of extra strength I needed in this fight I was in!

On the second day back on the 'normal' ward, I was given the news I was hoping for and all my stats were improving. So much so that I no longer needed the CPAP treatment, and I was 'downgraded' to a regular nose canular and oxygen mask, with a reduction in O2 level throughout the day.

Before the end of the day, I was told that I'd improved so much that if I could go the night without any supplementary oxygen and my stats were good in the morning, then I'd be allowed to go home!

And that's exactly what happened. I lasted the night without the need for extra O2 and my stats were stable. I was far from 100%, but well enough to continue my recovery at home.

My beautiful wife and daughter came to collect me I managed to walk out of the hospital under my own power. That was genuinely one of the best feelings I've ever had.

Thankfully, my recovery is going about as well as it can, and although I’m still not quite 100%, I’m a million miles from where I was at my worst and for that, I cannot thank all the staff that helped me at the Conquest Hospital. I have not got a bad word to say about anyone I encountered. Every nurse, doctor, paramedic, porter and healthcare assistant was quite simply fantastic. Each one of them always smiling and radiating such positivity, in what must be some of the most challenging environments to work in. There are genuinely no words I can write to express how excellent all the staff are at that hospital, that aided me on my road to recovery. I don’t know the salary for any of the nurses or doctors that I dealt with, but I can assure you, they are not paid enough for the amazing work that they all do! I very much doubt any of them will see this, but in the off chance that they do, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

As I come to the end of writing this, it’s been 2 weeks since I left the hospital and I think about that a lot about how quickly I went from 'ok' and not wanting to go to the hospital, to almost being sedated and put on a ventilator to help me breathe.

Now I’m not one to preach to anyone about the dangers of COVID-19 and the need to follow all the government rules and guidelines. Neither am I one to berate those who are following the guidelines as ‘sheep’.

There was a time when I didn’t quite believe the severity of this virus and thought it was only those deemed as vulnerable who at risk and really had to be careful.

Now, do I believe there's some serious fuckery going on in regard to the government's response to this pandemic and the facts and figures they release? Unequivocally, yes!

I've got a business that’s suffering and students I can’t teach because of the current restrictions, so I know all too well the impact this is having on people.

However, I do know that this virus is very real and very dangerous. I have first-hand experience of just how real and dangerous it is. I’m a strong, healthy, (relatively) fit young man with no underlying health conditions. I thought this virus wouldn't affect me. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Anyway, the point of this blog isn't to preach to people about the dangers of COVID-19 or the need to wear a mask or vaccinate.

Wear a mask or don’t wear a mask. Get the vaccine or don’t get the vaccine. Stay at home or go out. These are your choices, so you do you. All I would say, is please be mindful of others around you. I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on my worst enemy!

Lastly, please know that I haven’t written this for sympathy or pity*, or as mentioned already - to come across as preaching to anyone. I have simply written this to tell my story and give a small insight into my journey on the road to recovery following a positive COVID-19 test result.

 

*A small amount of pity for the loss of my nan and beard is accepted.

** I’ve omitted the really gory details, such as the bed pans and commodes, for my own dignity and that of all the nurses 😊