COVID-19 Humanity Betrayal ㅤ Memory Project

We are still in disbelief that Mom is gone. I promised her justice!!

September 29, 2021, was the day that changed our lives forever. Let me back up a bit and say that on August of 2021, my brother (John, age 41) and his girlfriend were battling COVID in their home. I had spent days leaving groceries at their doorstep. I also took my brother to urgent care facilities where he was denied the infusion twice at different locations. One place stated that he did not fit the “criteria” which the Governor of Texas changed the very next day. The other facility wanted him to pay another fee on top of the $500+ he had paid. He eventually started to feel a tiny bit better as the days passed.

Fast forward to September, he was still not 100% better but making it.  He went back to work and slowly recovered, and then, it happened. My two sisters Cynthia and Terry (ages 47 & 44) had COVID and my beautiful, strong, selfless and passionate Mom (age 66) started to take care of them as they all lived in the same house.

Again, I make a few grocery drop-offs and before we knew it, Mom had COVID. My 44-year-old sister, Terry was on the mend, still very weak, yet attempted to do what she could to care for my special needs sister, Cynthia, and our Mom, Sylvia.

Terry called me on September 25, 2021, and said that Cynthia has fallen many times, and had soiled herself so now has to wear Depends underwear. Her oxygen was low, so I rushed over to take her to the hospital. Because she is special needs, I was able to go back to the ER with her and speak to all of the docs and nurses up until they had a room available in the heart hospital (beds were hard to come by so the hospital closed off certain wings and made them COVID wings/area).

I got to speak to the nurse on that floor who handed me a book with info about the hospital, the phone number to call to check on my sister, and to give me visitation hours (it was from 12p-2p). We talked about Ivermectin because I had asked Cynthia’s PCP to call in an Rx for Ivermectin, but it was too late. The Rx had not been filled by the time I had taken her to the hospital. The nurse said that I needed to be firm with these docs and tell them my wishes of giving my sister Ivermectin, and if they disagreed, to continue to sneak it in.

Now Mom’s In The Hospital

 It was 2 a.m. before I got home, and I slept for a bit. Sunday, Terry calls me and says, “Mom’s oxygen is low, Sis.”  Here I go again, I rushed to meet Terry and Mom at the hospital so I can get Mom checked. Mom worked at this hospital for over 19 years and at first, she resisted going but eventually, she went to the hospital willingly.  I got Mom checked into the ER and we went to this small closet-like room.  They checked her oxygen and it was low. They asked her if she was vaxxed, and I told the nurse no.  She asked Mom if she had gotten the flu vax, and I answered no (Mom was out of breath so it was difficult for her to answer any questions, much less speak). “Tsk, Tsk!” The nurse quipped. “Flu season is on its way, you ought to consider it.” I told her, “We decline all vaxxes,” and the nurse said nothing more.

I lied to the nurse and told them that Mom was taking Ivermectin, thinking they would allow her to take it once admitted. NOPE! I was wrong. They wheeled Mom back to the ER rooms, and I was going to go through those same doors as the night before, but the nurse said, “You cannot go back there.” I asked why not and she said, “Because your Mom has COVID.” I said “Yeah, and I have been around her and my special needs sister who I brought to this hospital yesterday, and I stayed with her until 2 a.m.! I am going back with my Mom,” she said, “No you are not.”

I realized my Mom did not have her cell phone, so I drove to Terry’s to get it and had to leave it at the front desk of the ER with a note that said, “Before any medical decisions are made, you are to contact her daughter, Genny,” and it had my number on it.

Did I get a call? No! Did I get a text? No! I called and called and texted Mom’s phone for hours… until FINALLY, she answered.

Isolation

 “During Mom’s stay, she was moved a total of 3 times and had SEVERAL docs and nurses,so it was starting to become frustrating as I found myself repeating my questions.”

“MOM!!” I yelled… “What are they doing to you? How are you feeling?” She said, “I am okay.” (hard to talk because she cannot breathe) “They put a mask on me and moved me to a room.”  I said that was fine, and asked the nurse what their protocol was for the remainder of the day/night. She told me that one of the docs will be in to see Mom and will most likely order a chest x-ray, run some labs, etc.

Once all of this was done, it was confirmed that she had COVID pneumonia. During Mom’s stay, she was moved a total of 3 times and had SEVERAL docs and nurses, so it was starting to become frustrating as I found myself repeating my questions, not getting any real answers, etc. I took it upon myself to attempt to see Mom during my lunch break, and I will say that this was all a God thing… working in the medical field and having to wear uniforms, I was able to go in Mom’s room every single day during her hospital stay.

God knew Mom was not going to make it, He knew she was going Home, so He allowed me to be with her. There were/are so many traveling nurses going in and out of that hospital, no one during that time, ever stopped to question me.  So each day, I would glove up, gown up, and mask up to see her. One nurse asked if I had permission to be in her room, and my response was, “Yes, you can ask her doc.”  That was the only time it was ever asked. I had hoped she did not ask the doc because I was never given nor denied permission, because I did not want to stir the pot and possibly keep me from being able to continue my daily visits.

I would write notes on the dry erase board and ask Mom to point it out to her doc, because they always seemed to see her when I was not in her room. I wrote down asking them to give her Ivermectin, and when I would see Mom during my lunch break, I would ask her about the message on the board and she would tell me “They said no to the medication. They said I did not need it.”  There is so much that went on, so I will make this short. Mom’s initial doc noted that because Mom has NASH (non-alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver), she was NOT, I repeat NOT a candidate for Remdesivir.

No Communication of Care

“Another roller coaster of “She seems to be having a good day.” to “Come say your goodbyes.”

When I read that in her records (oh yeah, I had access to her records online, and read them almost daily to update the family), I felt a sigh of relief because I figured she would never receive that poison. Then 2 days later, some idiot doctor came in and ordered that she be given Remdesivir, so here we go on this roller coaster of Mom’s oxygen levels going crazy, her heart rate going sky high, her blood pressure off the charts, black tarry stools, headaches, her liver panel looking insane, and the list goes on and on.

On October 5, 2021, while I was at work, I received a call from a nurse who said that they were  trying to change Mom’s linen when her heart rate went through the roof.  I was put on speaker phone to see if hearing my voice would calm her down.  I did this for 20 minutes, and it did not help…. she was ventilated and moved to what is known as the pods (basement of the hospital that felt creepy… you could feel so much death that occurred in that area).

Here we go of weeks of being on another roller coaster of “She seems to be having a good day,” to “Come say your goodbyes.” to “We are moving her to another floor.”  This was going in the opposite direction as my sister, Cynthia, who was also ventilated but came off the vent, and was on her way home the day Mom was vented.

For a week or so, I was going from one building to another at the hospital to visit them both, but I truly believe that sneaking Ivermectin in saved my sister’s life!!  Somewhere along the way, mom began to develop a bed sore in her sacrum, but I had no idea about it until I saw a photo of it from the wound care nurse’s visit.  It was in Mom’s MyChart (electronic medical record).  She then developed staph, sepsis, pneumothorax, and the list goes on and on.

The Unknown

“It could have all been prevented, had they not given her Remdesivir.”

We had so MANY weeks of not knowing what the hell was going on.  None of us really understood what was happening, but there was a point where I felt that Mom’s resistance in the very beginning was her intuition.  She KNEW she was not coming out of that hospital alive, and I should have just let her stay home, and asked her PCP to order the infusion for her (which was now available to all who had COVID where there was not a stupid “criteria” to meet).

We eventually got to where everyone was feeling better in the family so we all started to take shifts from 7 a.m. -7 p.m.; someone was with Mom every hour, and we would update one another in the family group chat.  I really began to investigate, research, and learn what the “magic” numbers were at this point to get Mom off of the vent, and this is when we homed in on getting Mom “trached.” We would come so close, and her numbers would spike high or dip low and they would tell us that she was not able to tolerate being “trached.”

Mom was so SENSITIVE to all the freakin’ meds they were pumping in her tiny 5-foot 2 inch, 120-pound body.  She was not one to take meds, not even over the counter meds.  She always took vitamins and supplements, that was all.  I now know that while that may be true, I also know that these meds, this hospital protocol, was what was slowly but surely killing our Mom.

October 20, 2021, was the first time we were told that Mom was going to die. We were so shattered and speechless. Looking back, I now know that sepsis and staph played a big part in her illness, and it could have all been prevented had they not given her Remdesivir. Not only was she being pumped with all the crap, but they also were not turning her over, so that along with the meds is how that bed sore came about and eventually turned black.  Thinking back, I could not imagine Mom making it with that massive bed sore, the pain she would be in kills me!

Taken Too Soon

“Mom was too young, she was the glue, the rock, the life of this family.”

Mom was transferred to a continued care hospital, and this is where so many former workers recognized her and told us that they would do everything they could to save her. The goal was to have Mom home or in rehab by the holidays. It never happened. I could hear the nurses talking, wondering why her PICC line was done this way. (They shared/rented the building with the hospital where Mom was initially admitted, so it took a few elevator rides to the continued care hospital.)  They wondered why this looked like this and why this was not done. Mom was also receiving insulin injections too.

I remembered telling one nurse over on the pods “You know? Mom was never a diabetic, so I am not sure why she is getting insulin.” she said “Honey, it is because of the type of food she is getting through her feeding tube.” So much crap being put in her tiny body.  I was able to spend the nights with her at continued care and I did that every chance I got. I was there spending the night on the night she passed away.  It was truly a traumatizing experience that I will never forget.

This whole ordeal was uncalled for, ridiculous, heartbreaking, soul-crushing, mind-blowing, and maybe even unforgivable.  I spoke in her ear the night she was dying, telling her that it was okay to go.  She fought so hard.  (Mom almost died 2-3 times before this night.)  I told her that I loved her, that her kids, her friends, and her family loved her, and that we will take care of Cynthia.  Mom was too young, she was the glue, the rock, the life of this family. We are still in disbelief that she is gone. I promised her justice!!