Six Years Ago COVID Changed My Life

Wowza, it's been a while since I have reflected on COVID's impact on my life. I suppose that is a good thing, as COVID has not been front of mind for most of us these past few years. The revelations and ramifications of the pandemic continue to wreak havoc in many areas of life, and, sadly, we still don't know the full impact of long COVID on so many.

Make no mistake, in all aspects of my COVID experience, I count myself fortunate to be where I am today in body, mind, and spirit.

This month marks the beginning of it all. It is hard to believe that all of this went down six years ago. The world and I have changed so much since. If you want the detailed recap, visit my Ongoing Long Covid Diary, check out my saved COVID Highlights on IG, or read past Covid Update Posts.

For those who were not part of it, here is a quick recap.

It all began during our trip to drop off our youngest kid at college.

We were officially empty nesters!

Next was a stop in Surprise, Arizona, to visit my in-laws (Spoiler: there are zero surprises in Surprise, Arizona.) Somewhere along the way, COVID got me. We don't know exactly when or where, but I have my suspicions.

It was a Tuesday night (The day is burned into my memory). After spending the entire day with my in-laws, who miraculously did NOT catch the virus, Robin and I were lounging about, and I began to feel it. During the night, the headaches, shortness of breath, and chills began.

Like everyone else who got sick during that time, you pray it's just the flu, but there is a moment when it hits you: "Duck, this is not the flu."

I tested positive.

Now what? We were in AZ, we knew that I had some pre-existing conditions, and the Delta variant was hospitalizing a new wave of people. I called my doctor and told her the symptoms. She basically said that she could not advise me to travel, but if I happened to find myself back in CA, I was to call her right away so that we could begin COVID protocols. Robin and I thought long and hard about making the long drive home. Because of my in-laws, we knew what the healthcare system in AZ was: a chaotic, disconnected, and frustrating maze of a system. We were also aware AZ was approaching COVID much differently than we were. It was not a difficult decision, so we hopped in the car and drove home pretty quickly. We only stopped to charge the car and interacted with no one. We know that some felt it was irresponsible (Including one nasty-ass DM from a parent of one of our kids' friends who was a nurse [BLOCK]), but there was no way I was going to be treated by the AZ healthcare system.

Before we left, I informed the church I was serving because I was pretty sure I would not be leading worship that Sunday. Reading that post reminds me how divided we were then, and that division was just the beginning of the division we have today.

I know that many of you have very strong opinions about vaccinations, the pandemic, and the politics of it all, but let me emphasize that, at the end of the day, we must see one another as members of the Body of Christ — when one part suffers, we all suffer, when one rejoices, we all rejoice. Our compassion and empathy should not be contingent upon political agreement, so please continue to hold all — ALL — who are being impacted by Covid-19 in your prayers.

Read the entire IG caption.

After we got back to Palo Alto, I called my doctor and told her about my symptoms. She quickly referred me to the COVID response team, who called me back almost immediately. As I talked with them, I was barely able to complete a sentence without losing my breath, and honestly, I think we were beginning to get a little frightened. It did not take long for the COVID doctor to instruct me to go to the hospital right away. I still remember him trying to convince me to go while I was thinking, "Doc, you do not have to say it twice. The car is already running!" It is important to remember that, at this stage of the Pandemic, people were going to the hospital and not coming home again, so I bet many folks were reluctant.

Not me.

Robin and I quickly got ready. I grabbed the important things: glasses, phone, phone charger, and to the hospital we went.

Robin dropped me off, and the hospital staff was ready. I was whisked into a glass room that felt like the kind used in the movies to hold villains and serial killers. They hooked me up to all things, and the doctor and nurse came in to examine me. At this point, I clearly needed oxygen, as my pulse oximeter reading was dropping. After the initial consult with a doctor, from then on out, all communication was done via a phone outside the room.

I must say that the Kaiser people had this COVID thing down. While my body and breath were for $h!t, I felt completely confident in their care.

During this time, they let me know that I would start on Remdesivir, but it was no guarantee. I vaguely remember also having a conversation about my advance directive. My orders say that I do NOT want to be put on a ventilator to prolong my life. The doctors informed/assured me that, should I need to go on a ventilator for COVID, it was not the same. I OK'd the change.

Eventually I was moved into a room in what I think was the COVID floor. By this time, getting out of bed or walking a few steps had me gasping for breath. They put me on high-flow oxygen, and for the next two weeks I had to lie prone. It was as uncomfortable as you can imagine, but every time I tried to flip over, I felt like I was suffocating — so prone it was! A little discomfort over suffocating to death is not a difficult choice to make.

During my stay, I did get worse. I was constantly being poked and prodded, every movement exhausted me, and I could barely sleep. I also remember being alone. No visitors were allowed, and I couldn't hold a conversation on the phone, so I had a lot of time to think too much — all while being prone. I never really lost hope, but I did have plenty of "what if" thoughts, and no scenario ended well." Still, as long as I could text, post, and share, I figured I was heading in the right direction.

While I was there, I remember talking with the nurses about vaccinations. As soon as they found out that I was vaccinated, their body language changed around me. I am sure they took care of everyone, but knowing that so much suffering and use of resources could have been avoided, I bet the number of unvaccinated patients they saw was overwhelming.

Eventually I was released to my home care team (Robin and Vespa). We set up a bed in the living room because I was to be on oxygen for the foreseeable future, and I needed space to set up my veritable apothecary.

After a few more weeks, I was able to leave the house without oxygen 24/7. I was still exhausted all the time and still slept much of the day. I would have frequent headaches and I was on a medication regimen that made me regret failing calculus.

Then the long road of recovery...

• I did eventually build up enough energy to be able to leave the house.
• I returned to Pastor at the church.
• I learned that exercise exacerbated long COVID.
• I tried to get back to what was normal in all things.
• My grandmother died from COVID complications.
• I realized normal was shot to hell in most things.
• I resigned as pastor of the church.
• We moved to San Jose.

... and a new season of life began.

And today I am a different person.

After my COVID experience, much has remained true for me:

• I never had to consider how much I was going to have to pay for my treatment. There was no choice between rent or food, and risking dying from COVID. Seems we always had enough money for war, so we definitely have enough money for universal healthcare.
• Extending dignity is not dependent upon ideology. Today I, as I did then, believe that every human being is worthy of being treated with dignity. We do not have to agree with everyone's beliefs or ignore their actions, but we must not reciprocate the violence that demeans and dehumanizes the other. Even the worst of the people we know or see probably lost loved ones during this time. Grief is grief, loss is loss, and sorrow is sorrow.
• Community is love. I can only imagine what my close friends and family were experiencing during this time. I am sure there were tears of worry shed by many, but folks still held me in prayer and took care of me when I needed it. Special love to Robin, who has had to deal with my hospitalizations more than she should. I cannot imagine what it would have been like to go through all of that alone. Thank you all.

And there are some ways that I know I have changed.

I am glad to be alive and, in all the ways I move through the world, I do so fueled by gratitude for my life-giving breath.

I am chill when it comes to life. This does not mean that I am nonchalant about my responsibilities or do not care about what happens in the world, only that I no longer feed on the adrenaline of stress. So many parts of my gig work (pastoring, writing, hustling) have the potential to disproportionately consume my energy and attention, which in turn takes energy and attention away from other aspects of my life. I refuse to let this happen, so I now hold firm boundaries, prioritize more clearly, and no longer allow myself to get distracted.

Mostly, I stay chill by resisting the insidious call to believe and act like I am indispensable to any of the movements I am part of. This has freed me from the buildup of resentments, the exhaustion of my body, and the burnout of my soul. This liberation from centeredness makes me a better human and community member because I make room to be nourished by the things that give my life meaning: food, family, friendships, writing, activism, and amplifying good people and good organizations.

I am more of a risk-taker. One would think that going through multiple hospitalizations, I would be more cautious and careful. Much to the chagrin of some of my family and friends, nope, just the opposite.

As I enter the final third of my life, I do not want to miss opportunities to do good in the world or grow as a person because I am afraid of what might happen. Don't worry, I have not moved to irresponsibility town. I hope to approach every decision with faithful discernment, but I am equally as hopeful that God may have adventures for me that have yet to be revealed.

The other way I am less risk-averse is that I have the privilege of being so. When I think about friends in Gaza and the rest of Palestine living under occupation and the threat of constant violence, risking police brutality, arrest, or imprisonment is the least I can offer. The same goes for my support of immigrants, LGBTQIA+ siblings, and those being crushed under the boots of greed and wealth. Being public and present is the least I can do. But it is not just the big actions, it is the everyday ones as well: choosing what I preach on any given Sunday, being robust in my online and in-person advocacy, and supporting individuals and organizations with my fiscal and skills resources.

I am committed to my fitness. This may not be as big a deal for some, but being able to say I am dedicated and consistent with my fitness and health is a big deal to me. Truth be told, part of that commitment is fueled by an unapologetic determination to outlive my enemies and the a$$holes of the world. There are things that I can control in my life and things that I can't. There are no guarantees that eating better and exercising will prevent an untimely demise, but we know it helps. After losing nearly 30 pounds and always struggling with weight, today at 57yo, I like how I feel, I like how I look, and have found a discipline that is motivating and meaningful. WTF, I even started running on purpose. Never before in my life have I made my fitness and health a priority and stuck to it over the long haul, but I do now.

I am sure that if you asked my friends, family, and community, they would say there are other ways I have changed, and I hope to never stop. I want to be a better human today than I was yesterday. I do not accomplish that goal every day, but I hope to more days than not.

Thanks to all who hung out with me then, and to those doing the same today, I appreciate you.

Peace,