I contracted COVID-19 somewhere around July 29. I want you to journey with me a little during and after my bout with COVID – to be heartened that COVID can be beaten if addressed early, and, to be sustained by gratitude for the arrival of each new day. I hope by sharing this detail in some way, on some level, may help, especially if, God forbid, you contract COVID, you know the miracle of the Regeneron infusion.
COVID arrives:
Idiosyncratic and capricious, one doesn’t know where COVID will land and how it will affect its host upon landing.
COVID didn’t really “hit” me, rather it sapped. I returned from a trip to California where I’d helped to chair a conference and to visit my sister and her family. I came back with a cold and an inability to retain my energy. I attributED both to the long plane flight, but I weakened daily. The energy required for even a small task – such as going upstairs—became increasingly difficult. One week later, Thursday, August 5, I went to the local clinic for COVID testing. On Saturday, August 7, the results came back – positive.
In spite of this frightening news, there was some good fortune: because I had been vaccinated, I did not take COVID’s worst punch –there was no headache, fever and shortness of breath. Rather, COVID played itself out in me via persistent fatigue, a draining beyond fatigue –enervation, a total absence of reserves accompanied by a complete absence of any body messages that signaled hunger or thirst. My long-time family doctor recommended rest, hydration, food and to keep in touch with him (and staff) frequently.
Contact Alerts:
Worried that I had inadvertently infected someone, I checked my schedule for the week I had returned home and well back into July, alerting everyone w/whom I had had contact here and in California, urging them to test themselves if worried or having symptoms. No one, thank God, has come forward (but many shared appreciation for the alert).
The Road to Recovery and the Emergency Room:
Six days later, August 11, my wonderful doctor of 35 years strongly recommended that I go to the local emergency room, in this case Virginia Hospital Center in nearby Arlington, Virginia. In his wisdom he sought to avoid a hospital stay, and told me I needed hydration but to think seriously about taking Regeneron. Though jammed with patients presenting a wide variety of medical issues, I was awed by the staff’s efficiency, warmth, and teamwork. I was given an IV of saline solution and almost immediately felt stronger. I was offered “Regen,” but demurred, feeling I should re-check again with my doctor. Thursday I felt marginally better, but by Friday, August 12, I was weaker, if anything, worse. Now very worried, I again consulted with my doctor and his terrific staff. At their “strong urging” (as close to an order as one could get) to go to the ER and get Regen. We headed to the ER, arriving about 8:30 p.m. Time was running out as Regen’s effectiveness window closes about 10 days after COVID’s onset. I was patient number 17 in a crowded waiting room. By 1:30 Saturday morning I was hooked up and receiving the Regen IV drip. I could actually feel warmth suffusing my body. Bracing myself against walls, I could get to the bathroom alone. My wife, stationed by the phone at home, picked me up, getting me home by about 2:30 Saturday morning, August 14. As my doctor wished, I avoided a hospital stay.
Regen, as advertised, did its miraculous job: Saturday afternoon I was able to walk around the house slowly and by Sunday about 20 yards outside. I’ve strengthened every day—now eating (hunger having returned), sleeping well and taking walks that lengthen daily. Here now in early September, about five weeks from onset, I’m able to return to my volunteer work. I would gauge my daily-increasing strength at about 85%.
Gratitude
I’ve given you the contours of the medical story, but the real story is of family, friends, and an unerring doctor who, still in his office Friday night at 8:30, urged me to go back to the ER. Had I waited until his return on Monday, I would have been much weaker and almost certainly would have missed the Regen 10-day window of opportunity.
My wife, the heroine in all of this, practically forced me to eat and drink, never left my side, and drove me to the hospital at whatever time of day or night. Family and friends from across the country called; neighbors and friends provided an unending cornucopia of homemade soups, fresh bread, full meals, love, and prayers.
Now, about five weeks from onset, I am completely COVID-free and non-contagious. I reflect that at root, at the very core of this experience, I feel a profound sense of gratitude –not just for improving health, and for the unrelenting caring and love from family and friends and for my incredible doctor and his staff. But more: Profound gratitude for “seeing” anew– the cucumbers shouting to be picked in my neglected garden, seeing as if for the first time the miracle of the noisy gaggle of sparrows at my bird feeder, they pushed aside by the imperious cardinal in bishop red. The quotidian becoming a marvel. And even deeper: thanksgiving for a new day, every day offering me the incredible opportunity to give, to celebrate, to love.
The second stanza of Mary Oliver’s poem “The Gift” captures the heart of my experience:
So be slow if you must, but let
the heart still play its true part.
Love still as once you loved, deeply
and without patience. Let God and the world
know you’re grateful.
That the gift has been given.
Written by Jack Calhoun
Mr. Calhoun is an internationally renowned public speaker and frequent media guest, editorial contributor and author of three books. He is the founder and CEO of Hope Matters. For more than 20 years, Mr. Calhoun was the founding president of the National Crime Prevention Council, prior to which he served under President Carter as the Commissioner of the Administration for Children, Youth and Families. Click on “Contact” to book Mr. Calhoun to speak at your next conference. All speaking topics are available at: www.HopeMatters.org/Speaker
