What You May Not Know About COVID19 Recovery

Today’s post was inspired by a conversation that I recently had with my father. It is not meant as a lecture or to shame anyone. Instead, I hope that it reaches a place that I know is in everyone’s hearts and helps others feel like they are not alone. 

I also hope that by sharing a real story—one that is still affecting myself and my family—it will encourage people to see this situation not as a loss of rights (or something that’s “not that bad”) but rather as the serious virus that it is; we aren’t losing our liberty. We’re helping people keep their lives. 

My dad was recently asked to do a PSA for Hawaii. As one of the first survivors of severe COVID-19, he was asked to share his experience. 

Though he isn’t sure that the commercial will do any good—there are so many people who are choosing not to take this virus seriously, even with all of the reports of people dying (whether they were “at risk” or not)—he did gain something from the experience of sharing his story. 

What he gained was a connection with other survivors. 

By now, we’ve heard about what happens when you have a severe case of COVID-19. The infection can affect your lungs, inflammation leading to them filling up with fluid. In other words, you’re drowning without ever going into water. 

This is what my father felt as he was put on the ventilator. Looking up searchingly at the amazing doctors and nurses who were helping him, he was desperate for hope. For confirmation that he would be able to get oxygen back into his body. That his gasps would return to breaths. 

The terrifying moment was realizing that they couldn’t give him this. Because they didn’t and still don’t know exactly what is happening with this virus. It’s novel. It’s new. The doctors didn’t (and still don’t) have anything that can help you. 

I still remember when he called me. His voice was shaking as he told me how scared he was. I wanted to scream at him. To tell him that he had to keep fighting. But he cut me off. He wanted to tell me how proud he was of me before they put him on the ventilator so that a machine could breathe for him. 

But this post isn’t to talk about what happens during COVID. I’m hoping by this point you’ve done the research and know that it’s something we are still trying to understand. Yes, maybe you won’t have any symptoms. Maybe this will change the second time you contract it. Or maybe your asymptomatic presence can affect someone who will drown as fluid fills their lungs. Or maybe you’ll have a stroke as a healthy 30-year-old. 

What I really want to do is spread awareness about the fact that anxiety plagues you, even after you’ve “recovered” from COVID-19.

During his interview, my dad met another COVID survivor. This survivor had previously been a fitness instructor. He was strong and healthy before his bout with the virus. Now, his hands won’t stop shaking. Anxiety fills his mind and body. He can’t seem to win the battle over his nerves. The experience was so frightening, so traumatic that he can’t control his thoughts or emotions. 

My father experienced the same tension and constant worry for months. He is still not fully recovered mentally from this experience. 

For the first few months, he meditated compulsively. If he wasn’t meditating, he was checking his blood pressure, oxygen levels, and heart rate. He became obsessed with the numbers, even making himself sick when he thought they were too high or too low. 

He cried at night. Sleep haunted him. 

I’ve never seen my dad cry and hearing this still makes my stomach turn. 

Through intensive psychotherapy and helpful behavioral practices and meditation, he’s been able to break the cycle of anxiety. He’s almost back to normal when we chat over FaceTime. 

But it was a long journey to get there. It’s not easy realizing that your life was teetering, easily taken away from you—and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

This isn’t to be pessimistic. We never gave up hope, even when the doctors said there was only a 50% chance that he would live. 

We focused all of our energy on him. Friends prayed. And we believed that he would make it through. And I am so grateful for how lucky we have been in this battle. 

But I’m also acutely aware of the fact that others haven’t been as lucky as we have been. Not only that, but there are people who have experienced similar things and are now battling with anxiety. Waking hours reminding them of the horror they weren’t sure they would escape from. Sleeping hours restless or filled with haunted dreams. 

For anyone experiencing that, know you’re not alone. These fears. Even the guilt of having put your loved-ones through this ordeal are all emotions that have been felt by other survivors. 

And for those who haven’t experienced this disease up close with themselves or someone they love, I promise you that it’s real. The pain and trauma you experience from it are not something to joke about. Every time I see someone who is set on living as they normally would, it feels like someone is stabbing me in the stomach with a knife. 

I know I can’t control anyone but myself, but I want to make it clear that it hurts. That it feels like you’re hoping someone dies. That you feel like your life is more important than anyone else’s. 

And believe me, I know that’s probably not what you’re thinking. I believe that there is goodness in everyone and that sometimes looking cool or feeling “normal” can be such a strong draw. 

But I challenge you to move forward with empathy. To take a moment to feel the pain of others. To think about taking a phone call with your father’s trembling voice on the other end, wondering if this is the last time you’ll ever hear from him.