Taking family holiday photos is typically a hassle for us, but this year was different. After surviving the coronavirus just weeks ago, we were thrilled to carry on our tradition. Shopping for matching outfits and getting dressed in holiday cheer became a joyful experience rather than a chore.
Along with my family and a fantastic medical team, my recovery is thanks to a kind stranger—a person I may never meet.
Mornings are usually a whirlwind as I get my 11-year-old daughter, Mia, and my seven-year-old son, Evan, ready for school. My partner, Tom, helps where he can. The rest of my day consists of school runs, laundry, cleaning, meal prepping, and occasionally assisting with our family business. A little caffeine usually keeps me going.
However, I knew something was seriously wrong when I struggled to drive my kids to school. Instead of crossing items off my to-do list, I found myself sleeping heavily. Joint pain, uncontrollable shivering, and a relentless headache made me wonder, “Could this be COVID?” I rushed to get tested and anxiously awaited the results.
As my symptoms grew worse each day, I finally received the confirmation I feared: I had COVID-19. I developed a 105-degree fever, a severe cough, loss of appetite, uncontrollable vomiting, and shortness of breath. I was incredibly ill, with no sign of improvement. A disappointing trip to the emergency room led to a follow-up visit at urgent care days later.
My heart rate skyrocketed to a dangerous 240 beats per minute. Overwhelmed by the virus, I lost consciousness and found myself waking up on the cold hospital floor. Moments later, a medic was rushing me to the hospital.
I was admitted, and an infectious disease doctor informed me that I had developed severe pneumonia in both lungs. I felt awful. Unable to breathe without assistance, I relied on uncomfortable oxygen tubes up my nose. My condition was so dire that when I video-called my family, my appearance frightened my kids, causing them to cry. That memory still breaks my heart.
A combination of steroids and antiviral medications wasn’t making a difference, and just when I was about to lose hope, I remembered a note my daughter had slipped into my sweatshirt pocket before I left for the hospital. I asked a nurse to check, and to my relief, it was still there. I read her beautiful handwriting: “Get better Mommy! I hope you feel well soon.”
Just as I was ready to give up, my doctor entered with one last treatment option: convalescent plasma from a COVID-19 survivor. He explained that the antibodies in the plasma could help my body fight the virus and suggested it was my best chance to avoid a ventilator. Without hesitation, I consented, signed the paperwork, and underwent a simple 40-minute transfusion of plasma donated by a survivor.
The next morning, I began to improve. My fever broke, my oxygen levels rose, and I gradually regained my strength. Throughout this pandemic, I’ve felt isolated from my loved ones; fighting COVID-19 was especially lonely. However, receiving that plasma transfusion from a stranger who had survived the virus felt like a warm embrace from all the family and friends I had missed during these difficult times.
This holiday season, all I desire is to be with my family. I cherish every moment we spend together and no longer worry about the little things. I’m reconnecting with my kids and partner in ways I hadn’t before, and it feels wonderful! While I’m still recovering from the effects of COVID-19, I plan to donate my plasma as soon as I’m eligible, contributing to a community of strangers helping each other heal. The generosity of a COVID-19 survivor is why I’m here today, and I look forward to sharing this gift with another coronavirus patient in need.
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In summary, my journey through COVID-19 was harrowing, but the kindness of a stranger provided me with a lifeline. Now, as I recover, I’m focused on cherishing time with my family and giving back to others in need.