The Day I Thought My Time On Earth Was Over Because Of The Coronavirus

Imagine a summer moment where you are sipping an ice-cold beverage on your deck with an enjoyable beach playlist drowning out any dead air. A panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean, conversing with some of your best friends while basking in the sunny San Diego, California sun.

Throwing down some delicious barbeque meats on the grill to lodge down your gullet. Life at the moment seems to be moderately content amongst one of the most contentious, socially challenging eras in this country’s existence. 

Now, take that mental imagery. Crumple it up. Shred-it. Incinerate it. Flush it down the toilet.

What appeared to be an innocuous get together with my roommates and some old friends from college, transformed into a large social gathering at my house in Pacific Beach, California. More people continued to infiltrate the hangout session we had at our house that day. We should have been more cognizant.

The unfortunate turn of events, unbeknownst to our knowledge, was that one female guest who attended was unaware that she had contracted the virus and proceeded to play COVID–19 Russian Roulette with everyone at our house.

In less than a 48-hour span, after that nice weekend afternoon, my body had felt like I caught 10 slant routes and took Kam Chancellor head on every time.

I laid down, took a three-hour nap hoping I could sleep this off. Upon awakening, I developed fever-like symptoms, no appetite, a throbbing headache, and my equilibrium so off-balance, every time I had to stand up and urine, I would vomit. 

That serious.

This was not a Barry Bonds 2002 season-sized hangover I was dealing with. This was something serious.

Let me put this on the record as well — 

For all of you stupid, ignorant, close-minded people who are downplaying this deadly virus and comparing it to the common cold, just go ahead and pack your bags and never return. 

It is not an appropriate time to be derisive of this sensitive subject.

It is a common misconception to downplay this COVID–19 discussion until you know someone who has personally suffered from it. Let myself be that lesson for some of you.

Wearing a face mask IS NOT emasculating. It is saving our lives. Physical spacing has statistically proved a level of worthiness. Adhering to new public-health protocols is slowly forging some positive economic momentum. 

I cannot stand that social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter have become breeding grounds for our “friends” or “followers” to become chief medical experts or political pundits. One’s who feel that they must voice their stance online on how the coronavirus can derail the economy or how the numbers are “skewed” because more Americans are continuously testing. People are testing to assure their health is in tip-top shape and they don’t compromise the well-being of their families or constituents. 

Hey, Tough Guy and Girl Out There Still Clubbing. . . Follow the rules that our state governors are implementing. You could be the next unfortunate victim.

As someone who represents the age (20-29) demographic, routinely prides themselves in staying in physical shape and monitors my nutrient intake, I seemingly thought I could bounce back after testing positive for COVID–19 in a matter of days. 

I started feeling symptoms on June 17th, 2020. . . 

I was admitted into Sharp Healthcare Hospital on June 26th. . .

I was discharged on July 2nd. . .

Two days earlier before my symptoms appeared, one of my roommates immediately tested positive for the coronavirus. 

After deciding to quarantine for the recommended fourteen-day period, I went ahead and got tested, assuredly confident that I was going to transmit the infection.

Days passed by as I anticipated my [tardy] results. My symptoms refused to subside. My body felt decrepit and weak. Over this time, I lost 12 pounds of muscle mass. I look like I am taking on a movie role for an emaciated homeless person. 

For three straight days, my fever continuously posted Aroldis Chapman-style numbers on the thermometer: 102.8, 101.9, 103.4.

My highest posted temperature was 103.9 degrees. 

Potential Health Risk(s) If My Temperature Continued To Rise: 

105.0: Seizures and Convulsions.

106.0(+): Heat Stroke or Brain Protein Denaturation. 

Rather than douse my body with ice packs and soak in a freezing bathtub, my girlfriend rushed me to the Emergency Room to seek medical attention. 

An extremely wise decision on her part. 

“There Was A Brief Instance That Day I Thought My Time On Earth Was Over Because of the Coronavirus.”

Yes, my body felt that crummy.

While I was strapped to the hospital gurney, hallucinating due to the fact that my internal temperature was boiling well over 100 degrees, multiple registered-nurses descended into my room from the depths of the hospital and tended to my feeble body.

I seriously pondered for a slight moment on if I was going to survive. 

It felt like I was Jim Carrey in Bruce Almighty during the scene where he is speaking with Morgan Freeman (GOD) in Heaven and Bruce comes to grips with reality. 

The hematologist extracting over a pint of my blood to examine for any infections left me feeling woozy. Intravenous Therapy (IV) is amazing and after it was injected into my right vein and starting pumping an ample amount of fluid into my bloodstream, I was beginning to feel replenished. The four-liters of oxygen that I was administered improved my breathing capacity. The heavy-dosage of nausea medication I consumed didn’t make me feel like I was riding Goliath at Six Flags Magic Mountain anymore. 

The novel coronavirus (COVID–19) is an infectious disease that directly impacts one’s respiratory system along with some ailing side-effects. The strength of a mutative strain versus a patient’s blood type reaction is a fluid topic of discussion that is still waiting to be validated within the science-journal community. 

Wow, what the hell am I typing? I just felt like a hybrid-cross between McLovin’ from Superbad and Dr. Anthony Fauci after typing that last paragraph. 

I need some fresh air. I digress.

Why is that some patients who test positive become asymptomatic or are able to make a speedy recovery? While others have severe reactions that require the attention of professional medical personnel or face the unfair chance of death?

There were times in that uncomfortable hospital bed that I felt like Alan Garner from The Hangover in the hotel scene when Mike Tyson knocks him out for stealing his pet tiger. 

That just goes to show the severity of this heinous virus and how serious it must be taken by the public. The overwhelming numbers of positive cases across the United States are bombarding the industry’s lack of inadequate testing labs and are delaying results. This might explain why professional sports leagues are continuously working against the clock and are struggling to find a common ground on when the correct time will be to start their respective seasons back up. 

My Daily Itinerary Spent In The Hospital:

5:15 AM – Blood Work

7:30 AM – Medicine Intake/ Blood Thinner Injection /Medical Evaluations (Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, Oxygen Levels)

9:00 AM – Breakfast

11:30 AM – Medicine Intake/ Breathing Rehabilitation 

12:30 PM – Lunch 

2:00 PM – One Hour Remdesivir (Steroid) Administration

5:15 PM –  Dinner

6:30 PM – Breathing Rehabilitation 

9:00 PM – Medical Evaluations (Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, Oxygen Levels)

12:00 AM – Medical Evaluations (Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, Oxygen Levels)

Keep in mind, I suffered high levels of night perspiration in what little sleep my body could undergo so my hospital gown was routinely drenched and I needed assistance changing my outfit. I was sopping wet like Kevin Garnett would be playing the low-post with the Celtics.

Considering how bad my symptoms were, that wasn’t the worst part. An adult’s regular oxygen level should range between 90-100%. 

When I got my chest examined, the doctor was alarmed. My oxygen percentage was 81%. There were excess fluids in the respiratory system. I would go into these coughing frenzies where I cough so violently that I actually became lightheaded. My lung capacity had shrunk and this is what led to “breathing rehab”.

The goal was to wean off the amount of oxygen that I was breathing in through a tube until my levels were back in the ’90s and were able to breathe in normal atmospheric pressure.  

After a grueling six days I was healthy enough to be discharged.

If you can take anything from this, I strongly advise you to be safe and weigh out all of your options before you leave your house. Please learn from my experiences. Don’t plan on being a hermit but be well-aware and prepared.

Avoid large social gatherings, do not share food or drinks, wear your face mask, wash your hands, and physically distance yourself at all costs. 

God Bless healthcare employees and front-line workers in the face of this nasty pandemic. 

Thankfully, I am recovering to share my story and that frightening moment I had in the Emergency Room was not my last on this beautiful planet.