A
billboard as part of a campaign to stop the spread of Covid-19 in
Lagos, Nigeria, on April 20. | Pius Utomi Ekpe/AFP via Getty Images
People in Nigeria, Spain, Iran, England, Italy, and New Jersey
describe hospitalization in the pandemic.
A chaplain who helped a dying mother say goodbye to her
incarcerated son over FaceTime. A woman who coughed on the floor
until she gasped for breath, certain she was going to die there
alone. A doctor who was forced to reuse her mask for weeks,
terrified that she might infect her family.
Since March, I’ve interviewed people around the world about
the new disease sweeping across the world. As Covid-19 spread,
I’ve spoken to epidemiologists, politicians, and sent many
unanswered queries to health departments.
Horrors at such a scale can be difficult to put in perspective.
Psychologists call this effect
psychic numbing. People feel compassion when they see one
person suffer, but when over
125,000 die (the latest US milestone), we can become numb. So
much pain is hard to comprehend.
Paul Slovic, a professor of psychology at the University of
Oregon, studies human judgment, decision making, and psychic
numbing after mass human tragedies. He says psychic numbing is
enabling leaders to “give up the fight against this still raging
pandemic, in order to open up the economy.”
To help combat the numbing, here are a few people’s stories of
surviving Covid-19, in their own words. These patients live in
Nigeria, Spain, Iran, England, Italy, and New Jersey, and they each
had different experiences with their medical systems. Some health
institutions have clearly responded better than others.
These stories, edited and condensed for clarity, are not meant
to be representative. Rather, they’re a reminder that behind
every Covid-19 statistic there’s a person with loved ones —
someone who wants the world to do better in the fight against the
virus.
Oluwaseun Ayodeji Osowobi, 29, Lagos,
Nigeria
I started feeling sick in early March. I had just arrived back
in Nigeria from the UK. I self-isolated — I wasn’t sure it was
Covid-19, but I wanted to protect other people — and called the
Nigeria Center for Disease Control. It took 24 hours before I was
tested, and my test result confirmed I had contracted Covid-19.
I was the third case in Nigeria. It was really scary. They came
with an ambulance and took me to the female isolation unit. It was
quiet; I was literally the first person there. I was like, ‘Oh my
god. They haven’t had any other female cases, what is the
guarantee they will be able to handle my case?’ It was just a
ward with a lot of empty beds. Being alone in that space could
drive you crazy.
I was coughing, nauseous, vomiting, and had diarrhea. I lost my
sense of taste, and couldn’t drink water. Being sick away from my
family was really tough. I had my cellphone, but also I didn’t
want to get in touch with people, to make them worried. I felt
alone.
could be here today, and gone tomorrow.”
I was there for over two weeks, so other people joined me later.
It was nice to have company, to see other people and have someone
to talk to, but that was also scary. I started thinking about how
this is spreading — how many more people are contracting the
virus. There were times I was anxious I wasn’t getting better.
Even when I was released, the media was calling my phone, nonstop
texting me, and I started panicking. That’s why my phone is on
silent. I panic when it rings.
I was sick for a week, and then felt better for another week.
They tested me over and over until I tested negative.
When I left, I just signed a document. The government took care
of everything: the test, my care in the isolation center. It was
all free. I didn’t have to do any paperwork. But some states in
Nigeria are doing great in response, while others are struggling to
set up test centers. It just goes to show the capacity of every
state to respond to crisis. We have gaps, and it showed.
What I saw, it makes you realize life is so fickle. You could be
here today, and gone tomorrow. I want to make the best use of my
time. I’m going to spend my money. [Laughs] I guess I’ll be
fine.
Eugenio Valero, 53, Madrid, Spain
A few days after the Spanish government declared lockdown, on
March 15, I started to have a fever. Of course, I thought maybe it
was Covid-19, but I didn’t give it much import at the beginning.
I work in a very large company, in a multinational finance
department, and later I learned one of my colleagues who sits in
front of me got Covid-19. He was in the ICU for five weeks with a
ventilator. I was also in contact with several other colleagues who
had symptoms.
After 10 days I hadn’t improved. I called the number the
government gave the public and they said, “We’ll see how you
do.” Then at Day 14, I started to feel worse. I told them I was
starting to feel some difficulty breathing, not too much but a
little. They said to go to the hospital. Because my wife also had
Covid-19 at the same time, I had to call my brother and say, “You
may need to take care of my children, because we are both
sick.”
I know our health care system is really good, but I’m even
more impressed after Covid. It was so easy. I arrived at the
hospital, and in five minutes they called me in. In 25 minutes, I
was getting a lung scan, and then in an hour, I was assigned a
room. The next morning they tested me for Covid-19.
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Eduardo
Parra/Europa Press via Getty Images A hospital in Madrid on March
12.
I shared a room with a man in his 70s. He needed an oxygen mask.
The nurses and doctors had PPE, double masks and plastic covers and
a face shield. We also had to wear a mask when a doctor or nurse
came to the room. My wife received a daily call from the doctor. I
felt like I was in very good hands.
The first two or three days I was getting worse, but my oxygen
levels were more or less stable. Every day they gave me an
antiviral and also Heparin [for blood clotting]. My roommate was
worse — when I left, he was still there.
I was in the hospital for seven days and seven nights. I
didn’t have to pay anything — I just gave them my social
security number and card. We have universal insurance in Spain. I
also have private insurance, but it’s just for if you want to get
something done quickly. A lot of people have both. I pay 48 euros a
month for my insurance. But we always start with the public system,
because the best doctors are in the government system.
I was sicker, but my wife took longer to recover. She never went
to the hospital, but they followed up with her at home. She felt
ill for almost six weeks. My 14-year-old son had a headache and
stomach pain, but just for one day. The little girl — she’s 5,
she was a surprise! — said she also had a headache.
I guess one good thing to come out of this is we both realized
we can work from home. We’ll probably fight to have more working
days from home, and have a better life.
My criticism is not of the medical staff, but the political
staff. They should have reacted faster. They thought it wouldn’t
be that bad in Spain, because we have a solid medical system. But
we didn’t react in time. And I was surprised that stable
democracies, like the US and the UK, didn’t do lockdowns. This is
quite strange for me. We are talking about the most powerful
countries in the world. We need more scientists in politics —
because this will happen again.
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surviving Covid-19 3")
AFP/Getty
Images People inside Tehran’s grand bazaar in March.
Yahya Kiani, 49, Tehran, Iran
In mid-February, I had the symptoms of a bad cold for about a
week, including a severe fever and shivering. I visited a doctor,
and she prescribed me cough syrup and a pain reliever. You trust
your doctor, but it seems that this doctor was not informed about
this disease.
Before this I didn’t have any health conditions; I don’t
even smoke. I didn’t find out exactly how or who infected me, but
I’m a bank clerk and interact with people all day. My coworkers
told me that I was very pale. And I constantly collapsed on the
ground. After a week, because I didn’t get better, I started
trying to get further help.
On February 28, I went to Melli Bank Hospital in Tehran, but
they referred me to Sina Hospital, where they said the chance of it
being the coronavirus was low. Then I went to Imam Khomeini
Hospital, where they did a CT scan of my chest. They said that
there was a high probability it was Covid-19, but they didn’t
have a quarantine ward. The next day, I went to Baqiyatallah
Hospital, and they confirmed the result, but didn’t have room for
me either. Finally, an ambulance transferred me to Shohadaye
Tajrish hospital, where I was ultimately admitted.
Because this virus spread so quickly, the hospital wasn’t
prepared for this kind of a pandemic. For example, I was in my
clothes from home for the first three days! I and several other
patients — who were severely ill — were put in a big room,
which I think was originally the stockroom. Of course, I don’t
mean to say that the hospital staff were not doing their job. But
the incoming patients were way more than the hospital capacity.
At first, because of the severity of my situation, I was not
aware of things around me. But after the fourth day, things started
to get much better as the medical team managed the situation.
I was in the hospital for six days. When I was discharged, I was
much better but I wasn’t fully healed. The doctors took the
oxygen mask away, tested the oxygen level of my blood and took my
temperature, then told me I could go home. I expected a bill, but
they told me that there was no need to pay. I think it cost about a
million rials (about $11), but the hospital took care of it.
The doctors prescribed me a couple of medications, but
unfortunately, the hospital drugstore didn’t have those in stock.
They referred me to another drugstore, but they only had one of
them. I never found the other medications anywhere.
think there should be psychological care for these patients
too.”
I was very weak, and it took eight to 10 days until I was
capable of returning to my normal life. My lungs were weakened, so
for a long time, if I did something like going up the stairs, my
lungs started to ache, and I’d cough. But I heard a lot of my
friends are in a worse situation than me.
Mental health was something that was neglected in the treatment
process. Although the medical team was very kind and caring, I
wasn’t able to talk to anybody for days, and my wife told me
later that I was in a really bad situation mentally. At a low
point, I had a near-death experience. I could see the doctors
working on me, but I couldn’t feel them. Now looking back, it was
a beautiful experience.
We are facing these pandemics maybe every few years. I think
there should be psychological care for these patients too. When a
patient is discharged, I think there should be some kind of
support.
Amy, 43, Birmingham, England
Amy requested her last name not be used for privacy reasons.
I came back from Washington, DC, on the 10th of March and went
straight to work. I was really fatigued, but I thought it was just
jet lag. Then I started getting the shakes and the chills. And the
headache was like someone hit me over the head with a sledgehammer.
I just couldn’t get warm. I self-isolated, and I can’t tell you
what happened. It just passed in a blur of sweats, chills, and
headaches.
After about seven days, my chest just felt like there was a vise
around it. I could not get enough oxygen into my lungs, no matter
what I tried, lying on my back, sitting up — I couldn’t do it.
I’ve never felt the need to call 999 ever in my entire life. But
the National Health Service came and got me straight away. They
didn’t have full PPE, but they had a face mask and gloves. I was
probably in the first wave.
I remember sitting in the ER, with about 12 other people waiting
to be tested, which is quite a lot, considering. I can remember it,
but it was like it was happening to someone else, like it was in a
drunken haze. When you have kids, you know, it’s painful, but we
can’t remember the pain. And it was like that. Part of me was
thinking, am I hallucinating all this? Because it was slow motion,
it was just so surreal.
When the test came back positive, I was segregated and put into
a separate ward. There were six beds, with curtains between
them.
We are lucky that everyone is entitled to a standard level of
care, but the nurses, bless them, watching them go up and down and
not being able to touch people — it broke my heart. I was in the
hospital for 48 hours, on oxygen therapy. I’m one of the lucky
ones. That worked. We pay our national insurance straight out of
our wages, so it was all free.
I didn’t have any contact with my parents because they’re
both elderly, and one’s got diabetes, and I knew they would just
panic. And my daughter was at university. I told them when I got
out. They were angry, relieved, and let’s just say the language
was blue.
over by a bus tomorrow. I don’t want to spend any more time
self-isolating than I have to.”
In the weeks I was recovering, it felt like I hadn’t used my
muscles in years. Since then, I’ve done two
plasma donations. The first one they said was fabulous, but two
weeks later, my second one just got turned down — they said the
antibodies and antigens aren’t high enough in it. I asked, what
does that mean? Does that mean my immunity is going down very
quickly? [Editor’s note: Initial reports suggest it is
unlikely that you can contract Covid-19 more than once, but we
still don’t have enough research to definitively say whether you
can be reinfected or how
efficient or persistent antibodies will be.]
But my outlook is what will be, will be. I could get run over by
a bus tomorrow. I don’t want to spend any more time
self-isolating than I have to. Staring at my walls is doing my
mental health no good. But when I walk my dog, I see people out all
together, not social distancing, and part of me wants to go,
‘What are you doing?’
My daughter came home the first weekend in April, with a
persistent cough. But I thought it doesn’t matter now, you’re
self-isolating. You’re at home, you’re with me. So she wasn’t
tested, but I have my suspicions.
None of the people that I socialized with in America got sick.
They were doctors, nurses, medics. We’re in a Facebook group
chat, so I just said, “Look guys, came back and tested positive
last week, sorry.” I think I picked it up in my last couple of
days, where it was just me sightseeing around Washington, DC —
where you get into the back of a Lyft, and then you use the
Metro.
I may have thought I was invincible. Now, if my government is
telling me I have to buckle down and stay at home for eight weeks,
I’ll do it.
I’m very lucky. I’m paid by the government. I can load a
laptop up from my house. I feel sorry for the people that can’t,
and for the families and the children stuck at home. I think being
sick did change me: I liked to be optimistic before, but I’m
probably more of a pragmatist now.
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Stefania
D’Alessandro/Getty Images An Italian soldier wearing a mask in
Duomo Square, Milan, in February.
Sergio, 60, Milan, Italy
As told by his sister, who requested his last name not be used
for privacy reasons.
Unfortunately, my brother passed away a month ago. He lived in
Milan. He got Covid-19 at the end of March from his wife, who is a
general practitioner. She had a high fever and a strong cough. He
didn’t have the usual Covid symptoms — no fever at all, just
low oxygen saturation, but all of his organs suffered. He already
had major health issues.
They did what they could. In Italy, there is free health care,
so everything was covered. After a couple weeks, he seemed like he
was getting better. We saw him in video calls with WhatsApp, never
in person. But his poor heart couldn’t handle it anymore. He
eventually died from cardiac arrest, at the age of 60.
Only a few people were allowed at the funeral in May, but
that’s only because we were entering the second phase of the
Italian lockdown. Now we’re grieving, and trying to live with
Covid-19, wearing masks and social distancing.
He was a good man, he loved his family and his mom, like every
good Italian man.
Kathleen Ronan, 51, Lehigh Valley, New
Jersey
My symptoms started on March 27 with a mild cough and a low
temperature. My family doctor sent me to the ER on April 1. I was
running fevers of 103, while using ice packs on my underarms,
groin, and neck. I went by ambulance to a nearby university
hospital, but I was sent home by the ER doctor. I begged him not to
send me home, and told him he had no idea how sick I was. He said
he did, because “that’s what he gets paid for.”
On April 3, my fever went up to 104.5. My 16-year-old daughter
was caring for me, and at one point, she took the Tylenol away from
me because I tried to take 2,000 mg in one dose. (Smart kid!) She
called the doctor because I was so delirious — and did the
talking, because I was making no sense.
I remember the tent outside the hospital, but not much more. I
had to ask for a lot of what I wanted. I’m a nurse, so once I was
a bit more coherent, I could do that. After I was transferred out
of the ICU, I discovered by accident that I had an inhaler. It was
ordered “as needed,” but I was told doses were never given
because I never asked for it. I didn’t know because it was never
offered. For a respiratory patient with low oxygen levels receiving
supplemental oxygen, it should have been given every four hours. I
filed an incident report for that. A layperson would never have
uncovered the mistake at all.
When I was finally home, it took about two weeks to get around
without a walker. It took another two weeks to try the stairs. At
first, it was a good day when I could sit up all day.
than I’d ever imagined.”
I still tire easily. I have intermittent headaches. I get short
of breath with more than one flight of stairs. And I have panic
attacks when in a face mask. I’ve worked in isolation rooms as a
nurse. I worked in the OR for a time where we were masked and in
sterile gear all day long — masks never bothered me. Now, it’s
a PTSD reaction to being masked, on oxygen, and not able to breathe
for a week in hospital.
The hospital bill was over $30,000, but fortunately covered by
insurance after my $5,000 family deductible. America’s health
care system is broken. Even more broken than I’d ever imagined. I
would not want to be alone and unable to advocate for myself at all
while in hospital. Hospitals carry on marketing campaigns about
their “five star” ratings, and staff are pressured to “strive
for five,” as if nurses are merely glorified cocktail waitresses.
They’re expensive behemoths, and they compete with other
hospitals for “business.” Caring for sick people is not, nor
should it ever in my professional opinion be a business.
But it’s not just the hospital. It’s the whole pandemic
situation coupled with the political climate in the US. It’s made
me very angry and frustrated. My job is to prevent or ease
suffering and to teach people to be well. Now, I just feel rage at
the lack of consideration and common sense. I have a lot less
patience. I was never one to suffer fools, but this has made it
worse.
Lois Parshley is a freelance investigative journalist and the
2019-2020 Snedden Chair of Journalism at the University of Alaska
Fairbanks. Follow her Covid-19 reporting on Twitter @loisparshley.
Ali Mollasalehi and Dayo Aiyetan contributed reporting.
