COVID-19 Humanity Betrayal ㅤ Memory Project

On August 2, 2021, my husband Donny and I were returning home from a weekend away with our kids and some of their friends. We had spent our time relaxing and tubing down the Rainbow River. Donny had even put in to stay an extra day (which was out of character for him… he liked being at home)… so we did! Returning home on Monday, I felt as if I was getting a sinus infection. By Thursday, my daughter, my son and his girlfriend all had the same symptoms I was having. Just a mild sinus infection. On that same day, Donny came home from work early and said he had a fever. By Saturday, his symptoms were much worse. He had developed an awful cough and was feeling it in his chest. All 5 of us in the house took a Covid test and we were all positive.

I have had severe respiratory issues since I was 5 suffering with bronchial pneumonia, then bronchitis at least once a year. Myself and my son both had some of the underlying conditions that anyone suffering with was supposed to be more susceptible to and have a hard time with Covid. That was not the case. The 4 of us had what felt like a minor sinus infection while my healthy husband (with no underlying conditions) and on no prescription medication struggled daily as he continuously got worse. His fever averaged around 102 degrees and would break and come right back. This went on for 7 straight days. I was told to keep an eye on his oxygen so I bought a pulse oximeter. When it got down to 82%, I convinced him to go to the hospital.

The first place we went left him sitting in the waiting area for over 3 hours. I had to wait in the parking lot and he was texting me, begging me to come pick him up and take him home. I was begging him to stay and get the help he needed. He finally won and I pulled around to the doors to pick him up. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was so pale. He was freezing and burning up with fever.  When he spoke, his lips stuck together. He told me he was asking them for a blanket, a Tylenol for his fever, and something to drink. They refused him anything. The janitor came by, saw Donny’s condition and was nice enough to bring him a bottle of water.  The janitor!!!  When I got him home, his fever was 104 degrees and his oxygen was down to 77%. I convinced him to go to another hospital.  Oh to go back in time!

We arrived at Lakeland Regional Health at midnight on 8/12/2021. Again, I had to wait in the parking lot. He called shortly after I left him at the ER doors and said he was already in a room, they had him on some oxygen, his numbers were already in the 90’s, and he was feeling better. I was thrilled! He told me they said he’d be there a couple of days and for me to go home. They would update me in the morning. The next day, I hadn’t heard from anyone. My cousin who works at the hospital was the one who actually told me his room number. I called and I didn’t even recognize my husband when he answered the phone. He was struggling to breathe. In between gasps, he told me that he was sorry, but he couldn’t talk to me. It was too hard. He couldn’t breathe. I asked him what happened because he sounded so good just 10 hours ago. He didn’t know what had made him take such a turn for the worst. We hung up and I headed to the hospital.

I had been told I was allowed to come twice a day and look at him through a window and get updates from his nurses. So for the next few days, I was there with my notebook in hand. He went from the high flow oxygen to the BiPAP and I became concerned. They assured me that this sometimes happens, but they were planning to wean him back down to the high flow. On Monday August 16th when I arrived, his disposition was very negative. He looked miserable. Most days he would sign language “I love you” to me as I stood at the window. On this day, he just shook his head. The nurses said he “wasn’t having a good day”. This aggravated me because every time I came, he had a different nurse. How did she know if he was having a bad day? She doesn’t know him!  And every time I’d tell them I was there for an update, they would tell me to give them some time because they had just got there and didn’t know his condition or situation. No consistency at all.

I left that day and before I could get back for my second visit later that evening, I’d received a call from the hospital saying Donny had gone into cardiac arrest and I needed to come. When I got there, he was intubated.  He did NOT want to be intubated. I was told that he had gone into cardiac arrest causing the need to be intubated. However, his records say he went into cardiac arrest while being intubated. That earlier he had become “combative”. Probably because they were threatening him with intubation. I know they forced it on him. By the next day he was showing signs of subcutaneous emphysema, a condition where a hole in his windpipe, was causing the oxygen they were  pumping into him to leak into the skin. I believe they caused the hole in his windpipe when they were forcibly intubating him. Everyday after that was some mountain we had to climb. His liver numbers were off, his kidneys were not functioning well, he was placed on 24 hour dialysis, one of his pupils quit reacting to light. You name it. They had placed two chest tubes in to try to help with the subcutaneous emphysema, but it was moving to more places all over his body. Yet when I’d go for my updates, I would be told things like some numbers were improving or this lung looks a little better. I never knew exactly what was going on, but I just kept fighting for him.

Until August 23rd, my visits and updates with the nurse were very negative. I was weirdly shocked! She was telling me he was swelling a lot more and his toes were turning black. That was the first time blood clots were even brought up to me. I became angry and told her I wasn’t going to listen to her and I wanted to talk to him before I left. The nurses had been letting me call their cell phones and they would put them on speaker and lay them on Donny’s chest so he could hear my voice. On this particular day, this particular nurse asked if I would like to FaceTime him. I was happy to, as no one had ever offered that before. Then I realized what she was doing. All of his swelling was on his left side. I could only see his right side from the window. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! The left side of his face was so swollen, he was unrecognizable. I tried my best to keep it together. I told him that I had just been given some new information and I was going to go home and try to figure some things out. I begged him to send me a message somehow so I knew what to do for him. I told him I loved him and ended the call.

Later that evening, I received a call from a doctor that I had never talked to before. He starts telling me how bad off Donny is, how nothing is working, and how “they don’t know what they’re doing”. I explained to him that I was a bit shocked because up until now, everyone was kind of making me feel somewhat optimistic. He literally said he did not know why any of his associates had told me any such thing. That he had known for several days that Donny would never walk out of that hospital alive.  All of this is in Donny’s records. I hung up the phone and just cried. That night I had a dream that me and Donny were spending time together on a couch. Just talking and hugging each other. I dreamed I had left and when I came back, he was asleep on the couch. I called his name, he sat up, but when he looked at me, it wasn’t Donny.  It was my 24 year old son. I asked where’s Donny? And he said, “It’s ok. I’ve got you mom”.  There was my sign. Donny had helped me raise my children into the wonderful, caring young adults that they have become. My son had already stepped up, helping me financially and taking me to every visit twice a day to the hospital.  Even though he couldn’t go in with me, he would wait in the parking lot for sometimes 2 hours. He said he didn’t want me to get bad news on a visit and have to drive home upset and by myself. I felt this dream was Donny telling me it was time, but I would be ok because my son would be there for me.

The next morning, August 24th, I woke up with a phone call from Donny’s nurse. She informed me of a number of things that had gotten better, as well as some that had gotten worse. Two hours later, I receive a call that Donny had gone into cardiac arrest again.  They had been working on him for 6 minutes. I thought long and hard before I spoke. I felt like I should tell them to stop, but I also didn’t want to be the one who made that call. Then she says, “We’ve got a pulse!” I told her I was on my way. My son got us there in about 20 minutes. On the way, I called my cousin that works at the hospital. I told her to get clearance for my son to come up with me and to meet me on Donny’s floor.

We arrive and people are busy going in and out of his room. I’m looking around for a nurse to give me an update. Then I notice the blinds are open for the first time since he’s been intubated. I tell my cousin how nice it is to see some sunlight coming into his room. I see Donny lying in the bed peacefully, but I can feel my cousin staring at me. I ask her why is she looking at me.  She tells me that those are Donny’s machines outside of his room. I was confused. She tries again by saying that those are his machines out in the hall not hooked up to Donny. For a split second, I think he’s better and doesn’t need them anymore, but then it hits me. I quietly ask her, “He’s gone?” And she tells me yes. Not a nurse, not a doctor, not a respiratory therapist, not  a single person from the hospital has addressed me to tell me that somewhere between the time they spoke to me 20 minutes ago when my husband had a pulse, to now, as I stand in the hospital looking at him thru that damn window; that my husband had  passed away. No explanation of anything. My son grabs me to hug me and I pass out.

When I come to, I’m sitting in a chair outside Donny’s room, surrounded by my son and my cousin. There’s a lady in front of me who introduces herself as the Chaplain. I tell her I want my 2 daughters to come up from the waiting area and she says they’re on their way. She begins to tell me that as soon as they get there, we will be able to put on all this gear and go in to see Donny. I flipped out! I started yelling, “Oh! We can gown up now and go see him? Now that he’s dead? He begged y’all to let me in there with him so he didn’t have to be alone and now you’re gonna honor that wish? NOW???”  Eventually we were led into the room by the Chaplain. I had to ask her permission to touch my husbands face, to rub his head (like he loved), to trace his eyebrows like I always did.  It was the most awful way to have to say goodbye to him. When we left the room, again, the Chaplain gave me a book about what to do when you have lost a loved one, told me the number to call for the morgue, and how many days I had to pick up his body.  That was it! We left the hospital to go down to the parking lot where my entire family was waiting for us and still not one person from that hospital gave me an explanation. Even still to this very day.

I have requested his records, received them and requested them again asking for a “death summary”. They claim they don’t have any such thing. His records literally have all this information on the days leading up to his death. Then on the day he passed, it literally only says: 8/24 patient deceased 0959.  That’s it!!! I have also looked into the timeline of the administering of Remdesivir. Like I said, I dropped him off at midnight on 8/12 and he was talking with no problem. His records say he was given his first dose of Remdesivir on 8/13 at 8:30 am. I called him at 10:30 am and he could no longer form a sentence due to the inability to breathe. From there, it was dose after dose until he was intubated. At that point, the liver numbers were bad  and his kidneys began to fail.

These protocols definitely murdered our loved ones. It’s the hardest thing when there’s no so called murder weapon, no homicide unit called out to investigate, no nothing! It’s just so unfair! So I will fight for justice for him as hard as I can. I was his voice from the day they intubated him and I’ll continue to be his voice for as long as it takes. This should have never happened. The people who put these protocols into place, kept medications that would help them, kept  away from our loved ones, and released this hell they call Covid will be held accountable. One day they will have to answer for it and I believe there’s a special place in hell for them.