FIGHT FOR LIFE

A Wife's Many Fruitless Attempts to Help Her Husband

My husband, a healthy 53 year old, was admitted to the Emergency Room (ER) via ambulance at an Indianapolis hospital on Sept 16.  For 10 days prior to going to the hospital, he was doing early prevention treatment (Ivermectin, Hydroxychloroquine, Vitamins C and D, Zinc, Quercetin, Prednisone and other prescriptions for cough, nausea, etc.  We had two doctor friends who oversaw our outpatient treatment).  The day prior to him needing to go to the ER he got a home Oxygen tank, but he could not stay above 90% and without the tank not above 70%.  

My husband spent seven days in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) on high flow Oxygen, with staff turning his body repeatedly to get his lungs to “heal.”  I do not know what hospital-provided medicine he was on (I know it was NOT Remdesivir - the hospital said it was too late), but I have hundreds of pages of hospital records. 

On Day 7, he was told they should give his body a rest and be vented.  Obviously, having a 5-way Facetime call with our three kids was excruciating, but we had faith that he would be okay - he was in God's hands. 

Week One - he rested and continued to “get better.”   They tried taking him off of the ventilator once, but were unsuccessful.  I believe he became too anxious and too much in pain for them to successfully do it.  So they talked about doing a tracheostomy.  They said healthy men are the hardest to get off of the vent - they cannot give up the control.

Week Two - he contracted a staph infection and a horrible sinus infection.  So that week was all about getting him back to stable. 

Week Three - he was getting well enough again to be trached.  In fact, by Friday, he met the requirement.  However, instead of scheduling him for Saturday (the next day), they scheduled him for the following Tuesday.  What I learned after the fact is that this hospital considers a trach surgery “elective,” and they are not performed on the weekend.  

Week Four – on Monday while “waiting for the trach, he took a giant turn for the worse.  I was told by the fourth pulmonologist (we received a new one weekly) that my husband was gravely ill and I should prepare for his death.  My doctor friends said, “Hell no - his heart is good, his organs are good, go fight like hell for him.”  So that is what I did.  I begged for high dose vitamins - they said no.  I begged for him to be put on ECMO - they said no (he was not sick enough to go on it when he arrived and now he was too sick).  I begged for him to get a lung transplant (they said he will need to be Covid vaccinated first AND that most places will say no because he is too ill).  I begged for any experimental drug (they said, "you’re willing to try an experimental drug but you won't get vaccinated?"  Oh . . . the arguments I had with Doctor A boils my blood to this day!).  They put him on a nitric oxide machine - part of my fight to give him SOMETHING that may heal him. 

By Thursday of that week, my husband was admitted to another hospital for him to be put on ECMO, a possible lung transplant and an experimental drug, Narsoplimab, a monoclonal antibody.  Through the help of friends and the Infectious Disease doctor, my husband was approved for compassionate care use by the drug manufacturer.  Side note:  this drug has achieved nearly 100% positive results in patients as sick or sicker than my husband – it is maddening that this was denied by our government for use for Covid, but it's all part of the sick agenda.  

He was going to be life-flighted on Thursday night, but there was bad weather so it was postponed to Friday morning.  On Friday morning, new hospital doctor called me and said that the board declined his admittance (I have no idea what happened within that time frame, more nefarious dealings!  I mean, he had a room number at the hospital!!!).  By Saturday, the Narsoplimab had arrived to the new hospital and my husband received his first infusion.  We had hope again.

Week Five - he continued to remain relatively stable, even though now he was on dialysis.  My doctor friends continued to say that this was not necessarily permanent, but if it was, he could live with it.  They took a lung biopsy.  

Week Six - he continued to improve.  I believed that the Narsoplimab seemed to be working like it did in all of the other patients.  He was getting closer and closer to meeting the requirements to be trached once again.  He was getting weaned off of most IV meds and the nitric oxide.  They did find mold from the biopsy, and were awaiting further results to see what type it was, but he was on broad spectrum medications to “cure” it. 

Week Seven - he was finally trached.  Finally!!!  I would love to do nothing more than get this policy changed so no one else in the ICU needs to stay vented with tubes down their throat for weeks on end.  Despite being trached, he continued to worsen once again.  Each day his needs for oxygen increased.  And then we got a devastating blow:  his mold was Aspergillus.  I was told that he could no longer be on Narsoplimab while they tried to cure the mold and the prognosis was not good.  I will forever wonder if the mold came from the tube or something from the extended stay in the hospital.  I have been tested and my home was tested for the presence of mold:  none was found. 

Week Eight - it became abundantly clear from his high need for Oxygen and his lung x-rays that he would not recover from this illness.  My husband died surrounded by his family on November 17 at 10:45 AM.  

In summary, I am most upset that he was not offered/afforded additional medical treatment without me pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing and pushing.  I had care conferences, I spoke with charge nurses, I fired Dr. A and the palliative care doctor, I met with the hospital Ethics Director about his care, I met with the nutritionist (another God-complex person who would not budge on his care) and I had daily visits from the head of the hospital Janitorial Department as I saw that my husband’s room was only swept and the trash taken out daily (nothing else!  My toilet at home was cleaner than his room!).  And while I know the trach would not have extended his life per se, it would have made him significantly more comfortable in his fight for life.  

Thank you for reading.