The last two months have been unexpected and challenging. My experience with Covid was a rollercoaster of symptoms and emotions. To be honest, I wasn't initially that sick, but I made some bad choices that led to a spiral of events. It's hard to look back and process everything because there were a lot of decisions that I made where I get so mad at myself and say "Becca, you should've known better!" One of those bad choices was that I drove to the mountains four days into being sick to see the fall colors and as a result, ended up with pneumonia. I definitely would've thought twice if I realized I was going to be all the way up at 11,000 feet. Or the fact that I took a higher dose of steroids than was recommended because I thought I could treat myself when I couldn't get in to my doctor. The medication I had on hand was expired, so I increased the dose and ended up having a bad reaction to the steroids. I look back now and ask myself "What was I thinking?!?" It's difficult to not be hard on myself as a nurse. I know better than to treat myself, but then again we all do it.
Enjoying the fall colors
They say nurses are the worst patients and that's not a lie. I can attest that ER nurses are probably the worst. We rarely ever go to the doctor because we can diagnose ourselves, treat ourselves, and take care of ourselves. While you gain a wide knowledge base working in the ER, you also gain something else that is not so healthy: pride. The first time I ended up in the ER as a patient with Covid was only my third ER visit of my entire life. I knew my oxygen was low, but I wasn't impressed with the hospital and I didn't trust the care. "I'm a nurse, I can just monitor myself at home," I told the doctor. They reluctantly agreed to discharge me home even though they said it would be better to admit me. I told them they could save that bed for someone else who was sicker than me and "really needed it." But if I'm honest, I didn't want to be stuck there and wasn't sure that they would provide good care. There was a combination of pride, fear, and the need to control things. I was so relieved when they allowed me to go home on the oxygen. But my eagerness to get better and back to work led me to wean my oxygen faster than I should have. While my O2 levels were fine, my shortness of breath and other symptoms persisted. I felt the Lord gently whispering to my heart to slow down and rest, but I convinced myself that I already had. Little did I know that he would allow more drastic measures later on to get me to finally slow down and listen.
My therapy dogs
Shortly after my quarantine time, I was back to work in the clinic. My overwhelming need to please people was setting in and I couldn't have my coworkers covering my late shifts or working a weekend for me. I didn't feel the best and was still pretty short of breath, but I would suck it up and push forward. My doctor hesitantly cleared me. "Are you sure you're ready to go back full time?" he asked. "Oh yeah, I'm going crazy sitting at home and I feel fine," I reassured him. Once again, that ugly pride was rearing it's head. I was strong. I could do this.
But it became evident within a few days that I was doing too much. I had close friends gently warn me that I needed to slow down. I had gone from being sick to filling my day with work and social events, being gone from 7am until midnight. Not to mention, I was still sleep deprived because of the steroid side effects. But I wasn't willing to listen. I was going a million miles a minute and headed for a downward spiral. Three days after I had gone back to work, I woke up with a strange feeling in my forehead. I was so exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but I felt an electrical feeling in my forehead. "Why does my head feel so strange? It's like there's electricity going across my head," I said to myself. And then it dawned on me: "Oh my gosh, I'm about to have a seizure!" I had never had a seizure before, but I had talked to my doctor about my electrolyte levels a few days prior and had convinced him to check my sodium level. It was a little low, but not too bad. But I had been really thirsty over the last few days and drinking a ton of fluid. I was worried it had dropped even lower and my symptoms were telling me it had. I stumbled down the stairs, barely able to walk and made my way to the kitchen. My body was telling me that I needed salt, so I just poured out a teaspoon of salt from the shaker and ate it. It was disgusting, but I wasn't thinking straight and that was the easiest way to get salt in my body. I grabbed a bottle of pedialyte and started drinking that. By the grace of God, my roommate came down the stairs a few minutes later, took one look at me and asked if I was ok. I told her I needed to go to the ER and managed to pack a couple of things into a backpack, knowing that I would be keeping me there this time.
We went to a different hospital where the care was much better this time around. My suspicions of low sodium were confirmed. It had dropped to 124, two points away from being admitted to the neuro ICU. I was told that I would be admitted to the hospital for at least 1-2 days. I felt better about staying this time because the care was good and I had a good experience with the hospital. I felt comfortable and taken care of in the ER, so I sent my roommate off to work. I didn’t want her to be stuck there all day because of me. But a couple hours later, I started to fall asleep and my alarms started going off. My O2 sats were only 85% and I was on 2 liters of oxygen. They had put me back on the oxygen for shortness of breath. What was going on? I waited a bit, but it stayed low. I hit my call light and waited. No one came. I decided to just turn up my own oxygen to 4 liters. Finally someone came in and switched me over to an oxygen mask. When the nurse came back later, she told me that my oxygen levels were fine. I explained to her that I was a nurse too and what had happened. She told me that I was just anxious. She told me “I have anxiety too, so I get it.” She told me that she could ask the doctor for medication for anxiety if I wanted it. I looked at her, absolutely shocked and told her that I was fine and that I was going to turn the lights down and try to rest.
That experience negatively affected the rest of my hospitalization. I became defensive and felt like I had to prove myself to my nurses and doctors. Once again, I didn't feel like I could trust other people to take care of me. I felt like I had to take care of myself if I was going to be ok. I also developed a fear of being alone. I had lost faith in the medical team and I didn't trust that they were monitoring me closely after that first experience. I called a good friend who is a nurse and asked her to come be there with me. My sodium levels still weren't stable and I didn't know if any of the nurses would even know if I had a seizure. They weren't watching my monitors before, so why would they now? My friend Katrina came in and stayed with me for a few hours. She was amazing and in true pediatric nurse fashion, she brought me all kinds of treats and things to make me feel at home in the hospital. I had a couple friends visit over the next few days, which helped a lot. My mom flew in after that and stayed with me for the rest of my hospitalization. It was so good to have her there. My brain had been so badly affected that I was having a hard time concentrating and remembering things. I often would forget to eat. She took good care of me and helped me regain my strength.
Katrina and I in my hospital room
Flowers from my Bible study girls
But as the days went on, it became apparent that I had allowed a few of my negative experiences in the hospital to affect me for the worst. I was under spiritual attack and didn't even know it. I was still not thinking clearly and was irritable from the steroids. I was angry at my nurses and doctors. I felt like many of my concerns were dismissed and I didn't feel like my nurses were providing the same quality of care that I would provide to my patients. I was having a harder time connecting with God. I would ask my mom to read me the Bible and would fall asleep immediately. I had a hard time praying, I became anxious and irritable. I didn't like this version of myself, but I didn't know how to change it.
I finally got discharged home after five days in the hospital. But I wasn't out of the woods yet. I had been on oxygen the whole time I was in the hospital and felt short of breath or confused when I wasn't on it, especially at night. The doctors decided that I could go home with no oxygen and I questioned their judgment. Once I got home, I was waking up in the middle of the night feeling like I couldn't breathe. I kept thinking there was something wrong and went into the ER multiple times. I was having major issues thinking straight and remembering things. I didn't know why I was so overwhelmed by fear. I had never felt like this before. Finally, I asked my mom to stop at the sporting goods store one day to buy canned oxygen for altitude sickness. Later that day she commented that I was "thinking more clearly than I had in days." I told her it was the oxygen. My primary care doctor ended up putting me back on oxygen after I had an asthma attack in the clinic when I came in for a visit. I was told that my asthma was still flaring up because of the inflammation that Covid had caused in my lungs.
My mom going over my hospital paperwork
So, there I was, back on the oxygen, stuck at home. It was helping my breathing, but I felt chained to it. I couldn't go anywhere for more than a couple of hours and I felt stuck. One night in particular, I was feeling really discouraged and alone and I just felt like I hit rock bottom. I had wanted to go to church that morning, but couldn't because I wasn't feeling well. I was feeling lonely and reached out to multiple friends that day, but no one could come over. I finally called one of my best friends crying and asked if he could come by. He told me that he couldn't that day and he felt like I just needed to spend some time with God. I hung up angry and hurt but I knew he was probably right. I opened my Bible and started reading. I finally prayed and listened. I heard God saying "You might feel alone, but you're not alone. I'm with you. You've been reaching out for everyone and everything BUT me. I'm right here and I've been waiting for you to come to me." I realized God was right. He was the one I had needed all along. He didn't condemn me, but gently called me back. That was the first time in a long time that I had been able to connect with God. It was so sweet to be reminded of His love and His presence.
But a few days later, the fear and anxiety started to start again. I was having heart palpitations, getting confused, and having a hard time walking. I ended up back in the ER that next morning. While I was there, my oxygen dropped to the high 70's while I was sleeping. The doctor seemed very concerned when I first came in, but once they did a workup and everything came back normal, they told me that I was fine. Once again, I didn't have answers. Why was I having all these symptoms? They didn't know, but it wasn't enough to keep me in the hospital and my blood oxygen levels were actually too high, so they told me to stop using the oxygen.
My doctor finally decided to do a sleep study and found that my oxygen levels were falling to 82% at night and I was having some sleep apnea as a residual effect from Covid. That helped to answer some of my questions. But I still didn't know why I was so anxious and fearful. And why was I waking up gasping for air like I was being choked in the middle of the night? It just seemed strange, especially since my sleep apnea results were listed as mild. A few of my friends who had come over to my house had commented that there was a "spiritual oppression" over our home. I had a feeling that there was some spiritual component, but I couldn't figure it out. I just knew that I hadn't been able to connect well with God in days. Meanwhile, my symptoms weren't improving and I hadn't even stopped to pray to ask God why.
A couple days later, I decided I just needed to spend more time with God. I was sitting in the living room and put on some worship music. I started to sing the lyrics to "Great are you Lord." I was singing along with the song "It's your breath in my lungs" and all of a sudden, I felt like I was being choked. I went from singing loudly to barely moving any air. It only lasted a few seconds and then I could breathe again but I knew it wasn't a coincidence that I was singing those lyrics when it happened. Right after that, across the room on the other side of the kitchen, the dishes in the drying rack on the counter started to move around and a shot glass fell on the floor, didn't break and started rolling around. A light bulb finally went on in my head. "Oh my gosh, this is spiritual! Something demonic is in our house!" I began to pray, hesitant to walk over to the kitchen to see what was on the floor. My roommate came downstairs because she had heard something fall. I was still sitting on the couch and asked her to walk to the kitchen with me. We saw the shot glass rolling around on the floor and she freaked out. We had both heard some strange things in the house in that previous week and all three of us had been having nightmares (which we found out later). I told her we needed to pray for each other and pray over the house, which we did that night. I felt a little better, but there was still a restlessness in my spirit when I was at home.
The strange happenings continued at the house over the next couple of days. I noticed that things were worse when my third roommate was there at the house. She had been staying with her boyfriend for a few days, but as soon as she came back, there was just a lack of peace in the house. I told her about what happened and she didn't look surprised. "I believe you," she responded. She proceeded to tell me about experiences she had in the past and even mentioned that she had a "spirit follow her around" in college. It turned out, she had been having some demonic encounters with her new job and not being a Christian and having authority in Christ, she didn't know how to handle it. It seemed like it was following her home. On top of all of that, she had been dabbling in some demonic things leading up to this. Now she was having severe anxiety and couldn't shake whatever was oppressing her. I asked if I could pray for her and she agreed. After I prayed, she thanked me but wasn't ready to surrender to Christ. She continued to struggle with her own spiritual battle. It became clear that she was under a strong oppression and wouldn't be healed from it until she surrendered to Christ. A strong spiritual tension developed between her and I. I had never experienced anything like it before, but all I can say is that light and darkness do not mix. Whatever was following her around did not want to be around the light of Jesus in me. I still wasn't sleeping well, so I went to stay with a friend one night. I was just still feeling so restless in my home. There was an instant change in my own feeling of peace and I started sleeping so much better. The other symptoms I had been having resolved and I felt more like myself again.
To be honest, I hesitated how much to share here but I think it's so important as Christians that we are aware of the battle going on. As I was going through all of this, I kept coming back to the verse in Ephesians that says "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, authorities and spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." (Ephesians 6:12). I knew my roommate wasn't the enemy. But I was initially so confused why I was also under attack. "I'm a Christian, so why am I being oppressed?" I kept asking myself. I think the enemy knew that God was doing a work in my life and that God wanted to use me, so I became a threat to the devil. The Bible never says that the devil can't attack us, but it does give us the weapons we need to combat him (the word of God and praying in the name of Jesus Christ).
The Bible tells us not to "give the devil a foothold." In hindsight, I see how I had allowed anger, resentment and bitterness to take over in my heart after so many bad experiences at the hospital. Not only was I treating the hospital staff poorly, but I was lashing out at my family and friends, people who loved me and wanted what was best for me. I became blinded to the truth. I started to believe that they were against me and I started to fight against them. God opened my eyes and showed me that resentment and unforgiveness is one of the biggest doors to the enemy. If the devil can get us to hold onto our bitterness and unforgiveness, he gains a foothold in our lives and can continue to attack us. It's not until we forgive and let go of those things that we can truly be free.
Looking back on the last few months, I can honestly say that this was both the worst and best experience of my life. It was extremely hard and at times, it felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel. I lost control of everything and I felt so weak. I had to become dependent on other people to help me walk at times, to drive me places, and even to remind me to eat. God really humbled me as I realized that I do need other people and I can't do it alone. He showed me that I'm not in control and that I need to let go of that need to be in control. He is ultimately the one who is in control. I wish I could've learned that faster. But it was a long and painful process and in that time, I hurt a lot of people that I love. I saw a side of myself that I never want to see again. I was very unlovable at times, but I also experienced a deep love and forgiveness that was so healing to some brokenness in my own heart. I was such a mess, but I had friends and family patiently loving me, listening to me and supporting me through the whole process. I can't help but think that God showed me his own love through them. That's the way He loves us. Even when we think we have it all together, he sees through the facade and sees what a broken mess we are. But He doesn't turn away from us or give up on us. He loves us with His perfect, unconditional love.
Birthday dinner with close friends after getting out of the hospital
This whole experience has brought me closer to the Lord than I have been in a long time. It has opened my eyes to the spiritual battleground that we are living in. It has made me so grateful to not only be alive, but to be able to think clearly and to connect with God again. I felt like I was walking through the "valley of the shadow of death" and finally got out of that dark valley and up to a place where I could see more of the big picture and see why He allowed me to go through all of that. I am so thankful to serve a good and faithful Father who makes "all things work together for good" in our lives (Romans 8:28). No matter what we face, He is with us. He is bigger than our mistakes and our failures. He is able to restore what is broken. I pray that whatever you are facing today that you would be reminded that He is always there waiting for you. He loves you, He is for you and He is fighting for you. I pray that you hear His still small voice as He bids you to come to Him. He is always near.
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