It’s been days since I was discharged from the hospital and I now am sharing with you my story and some personal photos which my sister took for my family while I was in isolation.
It was on July 18 when my husband, Mon was infected with Covid-19. On July 25, I also started showing signs and symptoms. We tried to rest and recover from home. But by Sunday, August 2, my sister Joy, a pediatrician, went to our house to check on us. She said, “Your oxygen saturation is too low. I’m taking both of you to the hospital.”
We were apprehensive because we knew that hospitals were in full capacity for Covid-19 patients but we were surprised that when we got to the emergency room, we got accommodated right away. After we were wheeled in, the guard put up a sign that said “Full Capacity”. A favor from the Lord. Thank God we got in.
Mon and I were placed in separate isolation rooms. He, in the emergency room, and I in Urgent Care, also part of the emergency room because there were no other rooms available in the Covid floors. We got tested for Covid-19 and x-rays revealed we both had pneumonia.
We were placed under the care of Dr. Jodor Lim, an infectious diseases specialist, and his wife, Dr. Susan, a pulmonologist. Dr. Jod and Dr. Susan are Joy’s in-laws. They’d come, check up on me, and pray. When I was feeling really low, I’d remember Dr. Susan’s prayer. “Thank you Lord that nothing will separate her from your love.” That prayer was lifted from Romans 8:38-39, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
By August 4, Mon was transferred to a regular room. I was happy and relieved that he was responding to the treatment. “Thank God. At least my sons would still have their dad.”
I was using the high flow oxygen nasal cannula. I’d imagine I was in an airplane because of the sound the machines made. There were times I’d feel as if there was an air pocket. It was like the airplane was going down and then I’d experience chest pain. “Oh Lord, please don’t let me get a heart attack.”
Because my condition was not improving, family, friends, and church mates continued to pray for me. My sons sent messages. My inbox was full of well wishes from friends. Later on I learned that my parents went down on their knees and asked God to spare my life. My sister Joy, oh she slept in her car in the hospital’s basement parking lot. Can you just imagine the quality of air there? But she wouldn’t go home because my condition was critical. And how I looked forward to her short visits. She lifted my spirit. She’d say something random like, “Oh you have tears. That’s good. It means you’re not dehydrated.” She prayed for me. One time she called my parents and siblings and said, “Tell her what you want to say but don’t expect her to respond.” One by one they talked to me and said how much they loved me. Of course I’ll never forget the call from Mon. He cried.
Joy was only allowed to see me for a few minutes so she told me to text “x” if I needed anything. I never texted her just “x”. I would always tell her what I needed until August 7. That day, I felt very weak and tired. And so I gathered all my strength and texted her “x”. When she came, I showed her a piece of tissue paper. I coughed out blood. “How long? When will this end? I’m too tired.” And then I told her I see shadows in my room. We prayed and rebuked the spirits of infirmity in Jesus’ name. And then the shadows were gone.
I thought, “How will they announce my death? How will they tell my sons that their mom was gone?” I started composing my own obituary and said, “Is that it? Did my life really count?”
I realized that I’ve never really thanked the Lord for this illness. He allowed this to happen and He must have a purpose. I raised my weak and skinny hand to thank Him.
Dr. Susan said they will help me lie in a prone position to relieve the stress on my lungs. That maneuver has helped many patients. And so two nurses came and helped me. It was quite difficult with all the tubes attached to me.
I fell asleep and had a vision.
I was lying prone position and on a glassy sea. I was worshiping and saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy. Lord God Almighty!” Then I thought, “Why is everything so far away? Lord, are you here?” Then the vision zoomed in and I was brought at the feet of Jesus. For a moment I saw the edge of His robe. I did not dare move or lift my head. I said, “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty!” Then the vision zoomed out.
“Wait. Why am I seeing this? Did I die?” I slowly opened my eyes and I was still there in Urgent Care. “Blessed assurance Jesus is mine, Oh what a foretaste of glory divine!” I was at peace and slept.
August 8, just after midnight, I sent a message to our family group chat: “Nakaalpas na yata ako.” ( I think I’m out of the woods.) Because when I woke up, I just knew, I felt different, I felt better. I was hungry! That time, food was being coursed through my veins. I thought about eating a roast beef sandwich, a banh mi, or a burrito.
Later in the afternoon I was finally transferred to a telemetry room. Mon was discharged and was allowed to stay with me provided that he wear the proper PPE and that he couldn’t leave the room. Joy finally went home because she was not allowed to go up the Covid floors. On hindsight, even though we earnestly prayed for a telemetry room, it was good that I stayed in urgent care for a week because Joy was allowed to visit me, Everything was in place. The Lord orchestrated every single detail.
That night, my sister Gigi sent me a burrito. And then a salad wrap from Jehan, my other sister. Everything was delicious. It was good to be alive!
Since Mon was already discharged, he didn’t get food from the hospital. It was Gigi who delivered food and other supplies to the hospital. When Mon’s friends found out that they could actually send food to our room, they started sending. One friend sent food for one day. And then another friend the next day. God provided and we were truly amazed. One friend, upon learning he could send food, took it upon himself to send food every single day until after we were discharged. He even sent food to our house. One of our neighbors remembered my sons who were left alone in our house and sent pizza for them. They didn’t have to do it but they did. Such generosity and kindness I will never forget for as long as I live.
On August 14, I had a nightmare. Demons were ripping my face apart and blood was all over. I could not move. I whispered, “Jesus.” And they were gone. Such power in the the name of Jesus.
My progress in the telemetry was slow but every improvement in blood tests and x-rays, we celebrated. They slowly weaned me out of my oxygen load until I was only breathing room air.
August 15 was a special day. I was transferred from the telemetry to a regular room. High flow oxygen was removed and replaced with a nasal cannula. And then at 10:30 am, Mon and I watched the virtual college graduation of our son. What a blessing! We lived to see the day.
On August 17, we finally heard the three words we were waiting for. Dr. Jod said, “For discharge tomorrow.” The Lord healed me.
My name is Sandra Picache. A recipient of God’s grace and mercy, a Covid-19 survivor, a miracle.