Back Home. . .

 Jenn came home yesterday.

Thank you all for your prayers.  She is about 90% of her normal ways.  She has basically had no exercise for a month, so even getting up to use the bathroom at night was exhausting.  But it was nice to feel her warmth next to me in bed.  And I'm sure that just being in the bosom of her family's love will go a long way toward completing her healing.

We were talking yesterday, and it seems clear that this has been, by far, the longest we have been apart in 40+ years of marriage.  Back when I was volunteering at Summer Camp every summer, that was eight days at a time.  A couple times, I went to visit my Mom in California by myself, for maybe a bit less than a week.  But this was 17 days; and we were less than a mile apart.

The road ahead is still a long one.  She'll be receiving IV antibiotics at home for another three weeks, and then checking back in for another set of X-rays, etc. while she rebuilds her strength and stamina.

But, My Beloved is home.  I can't begin to tell you how good it is to have her back.

The Saga Continues. . .

 Sorry I haven't kept you all up to date.  I keep waiting for a convenient 'break in the action' at which to put things down in electrons, but there's nothing 'convenient' about this. . .

On Wednesday, December 2 (the day after my last post), I took Jenn to the ER.  A little backstory - I, and our kids, were all surprised that Jenn was hit so hard by the virus, whereas I, who have been much less robustly healthy than Jenn over the years, had a pretty mild experience of it.  Of all the possible reasons for this discrepancy, we noted that I have been loading up on vitamins and supplements since before the pandemic appeared.  So, I started giving Jenn the same vitamins and supplements that I was taking, figuring that, at the very least, they'd help moderate the effects of the virus.  But her condition didn't seem to change, and she even spiked a fever, which she hadn't done for the first week's worth of symptoms.  On the 2nd, she woke up at 4:30 AM with an extended coughing fit.  At that point, the realization dawned on me that what we were doing wasn't working, so I bundled her off to the ER.  They swept her away for her intake eval, and they shooed me home (I should note that Jenn packed her cell phone and charger in her purse as we were preparing to leave; good thought, that).

For the first few days, communication was confusing.  She texted me that it was a good thing that I took her in when I did (seems like the disease is going badly), but then also that she was feeling better (seems like things are improving).  I talked with her virtually daily, and her spirits were good, her cough seemed to be improving, and she was talking about coming home soon.  Yay!  Score One for the Good Guys!

Then on Tuesday the 8th (six days after I took her in), she sent a text saying that she finally had a definite diagnosis - she had the COVID, for sure, but she also had a bad case of bacterial pneumonia and sepsis.  What the hell? Sepsis?!?  That's scary as hell. . . and it took them SIX DAYS to figure it out?  Well, no; not really.  Turns out, she had coded for sepsis and pneumonia in her initial intake eval, six days previous, but hadn't bothered to tell that to Jenn - OR ME - for almost a week.  I mean, sure, I'm only her husband, her Durable Power of Attorney, and the one who stands to be widowed if she dies.  So, it's understandable that they wouldn't feel the need to communicate those things to me (that was sarcasm, just to be clear).  So I had a very anxious couple of days.  When I talked to her on Thursday, she felt much better.  The COVID and the sepsis were gone from her body (God is good!), and the pneumonia was on the run.  She was talking about coming home Saturday (the 12th).  On Friday, they were cutting the papers to release her on Saturday, but Friday night, her pain suddenly worsened, and by Saturday noon, it was clear that she wasn't coming home just yet.

Sunday, they did a CAT scan and discovered a sac on fluid on her lung, which was basically the last remnant of the pneumonia, maybe 3-4 inches long and an inch wide.  They weighed their options, including possibly poking a tube into the sac to drain it.  In the end, they decided to switch to a different antibiotic, and see what happens.  When I spoke to her yesterday, her fever was gone, the pain had decreased to the point that she was declining pain-killers (which just means that the pain was manageable, not that it was gone), and her voice was as clear and strong as I'd heard it in weeks.  So it seems a corner is being turned.  But having heard twice already that she'd be coming home soon, I won't believe it until they wheel her up alongside my car, she gets in, and we drive away.  Hopefully, that will happen soon, but at this point, I just want her to get well.

When she does come home, she will still be recuperating for an unspecified length of time, so Christmas stands to be pretty low-key, even if she's home.  And my job, once she's home, will be mainly to manage the chaos level in the house, what with three of our kids, and two grandchildren, living under our roof.

A couple thoughts - our family's experience of the killer virus was mainly pretty benign, except for Jenn.  And her situation seems to have been more about bacteria that she picked up out of the air, than the dreaded COVID itself (6F's husband had a similar experience - he somehow picked up pneumonia along with his order of COVID, so his recovery was more arduous than everyone else's).  I don't know if COVID makes you more vulnerable to stuff like pneumonia and sepsis, but hose of us who only had COVID to deal with, experienced it as something between a heavy cold and a mild flu.

I have not been happy with the communication I've gotten from the hospital (essentially, none at all).  You don't want me up in your COVID isolation ward; OK.  Even though I survived the virus and have the antibodies; I won't infect you, and you won't infect me; seems overly cautious, especially when me just being able to see and touch her would do us both a lot of good.  Plus, the aforementioned spousal status, Durable Power of Attorney, and all that.  At one point, Jenn told me that the chief nurse was going to call me; great! Let me talk to an honest-to-goodness medical person.  Then I got a text stating that the nurse didn't want to get any of the details wrong, and so she had asked the pulmonologist to call me himself.  Of course, you know, that call never came.  Mind you, I'm not questioning the competency of the medical/nursing staff; Jenn has nothing but the highest praise for the care she has received.  But the 'lockdown' status of the COVID ward seems to provide cover for saying nothing to other family members.  If she weren't 'locked down', I would be there, the docs could answer my questions, and we'd all be happy.  At least, I'd know what's going on, instead of getting texts from Jenn that become obsolete 3 seconds after they're sent.

On a deeper, 'existential' level, I've had to look square in the face of the possibility that my wife could die (and she assuredly will, someday).  We just celebrated our 40th anniversary this past summer, and this hospital thing has made clearer than ever that we have no guarantees.  I never expected that she could die before I do - she's just a healthier person than I am - but damn, you know, she could.  There's a part of me that's a little panicked by that thought, but you know, I do trust in God, and I've got plenty of people who love me, who would help me find my footing in a world without Jenn (which. . . may it never happen).  This whole thing just brings mortality and all that's attached to it, front-and-center in my consciousness.  Which has been happening more and more in the 3+ years since I had a stroke (which itself turned out to be blessedly mild).  As someone said (a song lyric, maybe?) - No One Gets Outta Here Alive.  As you get older, dealing with that simple, brute fact becomes an increasingly urgent task. . .

Sharing the Experience. . .

 Our family has, for most of this year, cruised through the COVID-infested waters of life in Michigan/USA, without any of us getting infected.

No more.

Back the week before Thanksgiving, our doctor's office was sending us multiple messages of one sort or another, urging us to get a flu shot.  Now, for many years, I didn't get flu shots, but in recent years (roughly since I turned 60) I've started getting them, reasoning that the mild case I get from the vaccination could save me from the real thing, which becomes more dangerous the older I get.  So, I dutifully reported to my doctor's office on Tuesday afternoon the 17th of November, and got my flu shot.  Sure enough, the next day, Wednesday, I felt 'punky' as I often have after a flu shot; likewise Thursday.  Friday, I felt great, and figured I was on my way.  Saturday, I felt bad - body aches, a wet cough, and general fatigue.  I didn't have a fever, and I could still taste and smell, so I tentatively ruled out the COVID and resolved to get some rest.  Sunday, I felt worse; same symptoms, just worse.

Monday, I was feeling a little bit better - not well, by any means, but better.  But Jenn was complaining of the same symptoms I had - body aches, wet cough, and general fatigue.  That Monday before Thanksgiving, we also received the news that 6F and her husband had been tested for COVID.  At first, there was some confusion as to what the results were - her husband had pneumonia, and at first, that came across as he didn't have COVID, but when everything was clarified, they both had COVID.  Now, this was not happy news, because they had been at our house for several hours, several days/week, for the previous couple months.

Also that Monday, 3M (who has been living with us since August; long story) found out that he had been exposed at work.  He works for a reconstruction company, and they were working on a job involving a backed-up sewer.  Turns out the homeowner's wife had COVID, but he decided to conceal that fact from the company, not wanting to delay getting the shit cleaned out of his basement.  So Monday was not a good day at our house.

I was feeling incrementally better day by day, but it became apparent that Jenn was getting hammered.  She basically didn't get out of bed for 5 days, except for Thanksgiving.  We had originally planned on having 12 for Thanksgiving dinner, but when we called our putative guests to inform them of our status, they pretty much all backed out politely, so we ended up with 7 for dinner, all but one of whom already lived under our roof.  Jenn was completely blasted, and I was still less-than-fully recovered, so Thanksgiving, in the final analysis, kinda sucked.

Jenn went and got tested the Friday after Thanksgiving; she has a couple situations working for folks who would really need to know whether she has the COVID or not.  And meanwhile, she was getting hammered by whatever-it-was.  She has always been a robustly healthy person, and we both just assumed that, if COVID came to our house, I would be in much worse trouble than she would.  But she just spent hour after hour in bed, moaning through her lousiness.  While, by this past weekend, I was feeling about 85% 'normal'.

So yesterday, Jenn got her test results back - positive.  Which means that I had it, too, since she got it from me.  Woo-hoo!  Also yesterday, 7M and his wife, who live in our basement apartment (but who weren't at our Thanksgiving dinner) also got positive tests back.  So now, everyone under our roof, except 8M and our 6-year-old grandson, has either a positive test or an outside exposure (and of course, even they are exposed several times over just for living here).

I guess, all things considered, I'm just as happy to have gotten the COVID, given how relatively benign my experience was - somewhere between a heavy cold and a mild flu.  Jenn might disagree, although she is finally getting to the 'feeling-incrementally-better-every-day' stage.  But, given where she started from, 'a little bit better' can still feel pretty cruddy.  At least, she is identifiably on the mend.

So that's our experience.  Most of the younger folks are feeling kinda yucky, but they're already kicking it (6F's husband, with the complication of pneumonia, is having a rougher time, but he's mending)

So that's what we've been up to the last couple weeks.  Hope you all had a warmly blessed Thanksgiving. . .