PART ONE - PATIENT GOES HOME AFTER FIVE MONTHS OF HELL, TERROR, AND FEAR, BUT MANY PRAYERS

Two Respiratory Therapists Tell Patient They are Praying for Her and to Hold Her Ground and Continue Refusing Doctor to be Vented

In the first hospital I was isolated in a very tiny room without food or water. Nobody was talking to me; I had no idea what was going on other than they said I had Covid pneumonia. I remember people rubbing my legs vigorously and telling me they were putting in a small catheter; they said it was one that they put in babies. I was left in that tiny room for several days and then transferred to a Covid unit where everyone was on a ventilator. I guess they expected me to cave in and accept to be vented but I just kept saying NO. A doctor would come in to check my feet and occasionally a Certified Nurse Assistant (CNA) to clean the genital area. After several days there, I was sent out of the Covid unit to a hospital room where they finally sent in food and water but I was rarely attended to.

They expected me to clean myself, get myself to the bedside commode and kept telling me to sleep on my stomach because that would help my lungs get better. I could barely lift my arms or move my legs and with a BiPap or large cannula on my face, how was I supposed to sleep on my stomach? I couldn’t even move my body to sleep on my side.  I don’t know how I was able to get myself up off the bed to use the commode.  I did when I could, but often didn’t make it. I asked if someone could comb my hair but I was told they were not allowed to do that. I had no help for personal hygiene like brushing my teeth or washing my face. My hands were full of blood from digging out the blood clots in my nose. My hair was full of blood from a fall at home where I went unconscious before getting to the hospital; that head wound was never attended to.

I had very long hair but they just kept pushing it back away from my face when they would put the BiPap back on me. It was close to 5 months before I could get my hair washed and cut.  There was no way to save my hair.  t was just a large matted ball of sweat and blood; it was awful. A lot of the CNAs were from Haiti and it was very hard to understand them. I found that they lacked compassion and empathy. never mind that half of them were male and I was not comfortable with them cleaning my private areas. Occasionally, a random doctor would come in to ask how I was feeling and then touch my toes and leave. It was very scary, lonely and creepy all at the same time. I was not allowed any visitors, just phone calls.

After about 22 days they sent me to Landmark Hospital in north Naples. They said it was a rehab and that I would do better there, that the facility was better suited to care for me in long term but that I would probably be there only about 10 days. Well, I was there for the better part of three months. They wasted no time getting another CAT scan and X-rays. I had a little hope when I left the first hospital since they had said I would only be there about 10 days but once I got to Landmark, that was short lived. The head doctor started pressing me to get on a ventilator and said if I didn’t, I would die and, of course, I said NO. He was small in stature and proved himself quickly to be extremely cold and hard core. I didn’t like him or trust him. Since he couldn’t persuade me to go on a ventilator, he decided to bring in my CAT scan to show me how badly hurt my lungs were.

I knew then for sure he was a dangerous man so I immediately reacted and told him to get out of my room. I told him if he couldn’t come to me and bring me hope, then get out! You need to give my body time to heal, let my body do what it knows to do! I need more time! I couldn’t believe the gall and indifference as he tried to scare and intimidate me. What kind of person does that?? What kind of doctor does that?? Isn’t it his job to help people, especially when they are sick and vulnerable? What happened to “First Do No Harm”?? After he left my room, some of the staff came in to apologize for his lack of compassion, but they did go on about what a good doctor he was but needed a better bedside manner. Well, too late now, the damage has been done.

I quickly started getting worse. My veins were shot so they ordered a Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter line and only God knows what they were putting in me after that. What I do know is that I was getting worse by the day, when before I got there, I seemed to be getting better and was full of hope. Now, all I could do was pray. My legs and arms became heavier and almost impossible to move. I was in a diaper at this time and couldn’t eat. I was having several bouts of diarrhea and bed sores had become quite a problem.

When my special CNA was not there, I would have to wait several hours before someone would change me. The bed sores became so bad that I had to ask for pain medication; they did give that to me. When I found out they were giving me a diuretic, I started refusing it - why were they giving me that?? I started refusing other medications they were giving me like one pill for GERD and sleeping medications. I had developed a terrible cough and they were giving me what they called Perles, which did absolutely nothing. They were giving me vitamins but they were of a very low quality so I had my son bring in my own supplements of Vitamins C, D, Zinc, B-12 and Manuka Honey.

I have to complain about the main Registered Nurse (RN) who was giving me the medications. She was awful. They were giving me shots in my belly for blood clots and she was the only one that made that painful. Even taking my temperature, she had to shove the thermometer in my mouth. I would have to pull it out of my mouth and hold it to get her hands away from me. Taking my blood pressure was a very painful experience; she pumped the cuff up so hard and I would beg her to stop, but she just kept doing it.

She also liked to complain to the doctor that I was refusing some medications. In the beginning they were giving me so many pills at once that I was getting terrible cramps so I started telling them I can’t take that many pills at once especially since I wasn’t eating any food. She was trying to get me in trouble with the doctor telling him that taking all of those pills does not make me sick or hurt me. Well, she was wrong and I was glad that he didn’t press that.

When they decided to start getting me out of the bed and sitting me in a recliner, it was extremely difficult. Just sitting up on the side of the bed was bringing my heart rate up and breathing seemed impossible, I needed a non-rebreather mask on top of the cannula. By this time, I only had the BiPap at night. The charge nurse (“Nurse Ratched”) was a horrible person. She was another one who liked to tell me I was going to die if I didn’t get up and walk.

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