The first indication that something was wrong came on Friday.
During the day, I felt more tired than usual, and my battery was drained while going to bed. That weekend was tough.
On Monday, the pain in my legs gradually increased. I thought it was a nerve compression and took painkillers. But then the doctors said the virus had attacked my muscles directly.
There was a mild cough, but it was not constant. I couldn't get out of bed for more than a week. When I went out to buy something from the grocery store at the gas station, I realized how severe my situation was.
and when I turned around I was freezing and shaking. I placed hot water bags around me, covered me with two blankets, but still couldn't warm up.
Then I got a fever. It was like it was on fire all over me, my head was very aching. I could not eat anything, vomit, sweat. Then I realized that I was breathing harder.
I was worried that I had asthma, but still I thought I would get over it at home. Within a few days my consciousness began to disappear and come back. I vaguely remember my 15-year-old son telling him he was on the phone to the emergency room.
When the ambulance came, I heard the paramedic saying, "The situation is not very good, we need to bring it to the hospital" on the radio. They put an oxygen mask in my mouth and carried me to the ambulance.
One of my children called and called my mother. It was very touching when he was watching me desperately. Since he had a heart disease, he could not come near me.
When we arrived at the hospital, we encountered a queue of patients arriving by ambulance and waiting to enter the emergency room. I remember hearing the conversation that all the beds were full as they took me in a wheelchair after three hours of waiting.
I was listening to the conversations and the rushing rush around me with my eyes closed. The nurse took a swab from my throat and nose for the Covid-19 test. Then came the blood tests and lung x-ray, she.
I felt like I was beaten. Trying to understand what was going on, I was passing myself from time to time At one point I heard the nurse say, "You have pneumonia in your retouch, we will give you oxygen 24/7".
It was as if a concrete wall had been placed on my chest. They said that pneumonia had an effect and gave morphine. Then there was pain in my stomach, like birth pain. I was shouting "I can't stand it anymore." When the pain started to subside a little, I was in a delirium.
The hospital ward where I was staying was four beds and they were all Covid-19 patients with other health problems.
The only things I remember from the first few days were the nurses' arrival and departure and the cleaning workers who disinfected the ward. The only sound was coming from me, I would ring the bell and want to sit down for either water or urine. I was so sluggish but still noticing how the nurses worked hard and hard during long and tiring shifts.
One night I saw a man in the ward and rang the bell to inform the nurses. The nurse said that he was the son of the "dying" woman in the opposite bed. I was both very sad and worried that "I will hear someone die two meters away from me". Then they drew the curtain that surrounded the bed, so that there was a little privacy.
That's when the delusions started. I remembered the conversations I had long ago, the people I met, randomly. "Am I alive or dead?" I thought it happened. Was this the road to death? Was this the "flow of life before your eyes" spoken of by people who come face to face with death? Then I thought, "No, I do not think I am dead, there are no white light visible at the end of the tunnel, no angels, no calls to me.
I heard a nurse say "Gone" from the door early in the morning. The poor woman was dead.
I waited for someone to come and remove the body, but no one came. When they finally arrived, it seemed hours had passed. They wiped the body and wrapped it in plastic wrap, as if they were making a package. Then they put it in the body bag and zipped it up. They counted "One, two, three…" and took them away.
I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of the body touching a metal wheel table.
They wiped the bed where the woman was lying and sprayed a lemon scented spray. I was looking at an empty bed in the morning. Yet there was someone there. This thought impressed me very much.
Then I looked at the woman lying on the bed next to me. She was in a coma. His daughter kept coming up to him and saying, "Mommy, I'm here," but to no avail. The woman was dead. It was a weird thought, but I had been waiting for him to die for two days. The situation of the woman next to me was getting better. She turned to me and told me that we were lucky, that we were in the healing 50 percent.
I struggled to survive. At the very beginning, when I was about to pass away, I said to myself "No, I am 49 years old, I am not ready, I will not die, I will not die not only for myself, but for my children, family and friends." My brothers and sisters constantly sent me messages while in the hospital, and this gave me strength.
I remember seeing a glass full moon on April 8 and thinking that it means a new cycle for the moon, a sign that I am on the way to recovery.I am learning.
Perhaps what saved my life was the words of a male nurse: "If the doctors send you home, go, don't insist that you are weak and stay in the hospital. Believe that all those who want to stay one more night because they did not follow the advice of the doctors and felt exhausted, got another disease. This is high-risk Covid. her ward and all of them are dead. "
The same day they measured the oxygen content in my blood, I grazed it. The doctor said, "You survived, I am very glad that I discharged you." I was so excited to go home.
Outside, the air was freezing. I was wearing only a hospital gown and slippers, but it was as if I was alive with the wind that hit my face. I don't know the name of the female driver who drove the ambulance, but she was just an angel. He started his 18-hour shift, which he carried me at 00.20, at 06.00 in the morning.
That's how these people work. Not only doctors and nurses, but also ambulance drivers, paramedic crew, hospital receptionists, those who clean up after the dead, carry the dead to morgues ...
Everyone is doing their job and playing their part. After returning home, I wrote and thanked the ambulance service and the hospital.
I will be lying down for a few weeks. Doctors said it can take 3 to 6 months for pneumonia to heal. My mother, who brought me food after I left the hospital, became my biggest assistant.
I came back from the brink of death. I am very lucky to be alive. Now I am waiting for the days when I will appreciate nature and enjoy it. One understands that material doesn't matter. When I go out, I want to fill my chest with air, look at the birds, and realize once again the beauty of nature and the world.
This is my second chance.
