The ‘sickest’ COVID patient in Calgary: How I survived, so far, the ravages of a COVID-19 variant

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“The perfect orchestration of the symphony of life is one of the Creator’s greatest and most beautiful miracles.” — Suzy Kassem

As the sunrise breaks on the eastern skyline from Calgary’s Foothills Medical Centre, I realize that my own symphony is not yet complete. Today will bring about new challenges as I work my way back from a body that has been ravaged by COVID-19.

Today, I begin the process to walk again, to write again and to share my life with others again. My story is being told thanks to the hard-working, dedicated staff of Alberta Health Services, especially those of the Canmore General Hospital and Foothills Medical Centre. Their names are left out intentionally, as there are so many doctors, nurses and specialists that helped me get back to where I am today and I would hate to miss naming even one of them.

Where I am employed and who I work for does not matter for this story; this is simply a cautionary tale for others to learn from. I was living a life that I thought would keep me safe from COVID-19. My routine included going to work, getting gas and shopping for groceries. My extended family included myself, my daughter and son-in-law and their two children. I had two brand new granddaughters in 2020, but I still have not met them to this day. I did not go out; I did not hang out indoors or outdoors outside of my family; and, we took care of ourselves . . . Yet, I STILL got it. How, I will never know, but it has changed my life.

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This all started on April 4 — Easter Sunday.

That day, I was working the morning shift and I felt a twinge in my chest. I reported to my supervisor that I wasn’t feeling well and was asked to call 811 for further information on how to proceed. After two assessment calls, I was asked to go to the local hospital. After assessment, the initial diagnosis was this was a bad case of indigestion. I was told to go home with some Gaviscon and rest up.

Neither the initial 811 calls, nor the trip to the local hospital indicated that COVID-19 variant B.1.1.7 was in my system. This is not to disparage any of the great work completed by the 811 or local hospital staff, but simply a statement that shows how evasive this virus is.

It would only be a number of hours before I found myself in the back of an ambulance unable to breathe and feeling as if my organs were beginning to shut down.

When I arrived back at the local hospital, I was placed in isolation immediately.

I spent four nights in my lonely room and during that time, I went from having not only COVID-19 variant B.1.1.7, but also experiencing a full-blown fever.

My breathing continued to deteriorate and my oxygen saturation declined. I went from breathing on my own to requiring the maximum amount of oxygen that the hospital was able to supply in three days.

On April 8, I was transferred and admitted to Foothills hospital. I arrived at 9 p.m. and was placed into an internal medicine ward on a maximum provision of oxygen.

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By April 9, I had been placed on six litres of air, because my blood oxygen level had dropped so low overnight. Hospital staff had started me on dexamethasone and a cough suppressant to try to assist me in healing. I continued to struggle with oxygen saturation levels throughout the day and attempted to go to sleep that evening looking forward to a brighter day when I woke up.

However, on April 10 at 2:30 a.m., my daughter received a phone call to inform her I’d been placed in the ICU and would be intubated and placed on a ventilator. The doctor told her my oxygen saturation had depleted completely and due to this, they would be placing me under sedation and intubating me. The sedation was a combination of painkillers and anti-anxiety medication, to keep me asleep while allowing the ventilator to do the work of keeping my lungs inflated.

Throughout the following eight days, there were some tough times, during which my daughter received updates about my oxygen degeneration. It was difficult to breathe even with the vent. A paralytic was added to my medication “cocktail” to allow the ventilator to do all of the work and keep my body from fighting it, while I also faced a variety of other potential complications.

At one point, doctors said I was the sickest person in Calgary.

I cannot understate the delirium that set in and the nightmares that haunted me. I felt like my life was being taken away from me and in my fears, those there to help were actually there to hurt. I could not shake the bizarre images of graphic artist M.C. Escher nor the myriad of horrid night terrors that seemed to fill every moment. I must have been quite a difficult patient.

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Then, finally, my daughter started to get some good news — I was allowing the ventilator to do its work. They were able to take me off the paralytic medication and lighten my sedation.

On April 18, my daughter received a phone call she will never forget — my evening nurse called to ask her for my iPad password. I was awake and this was how my family found out. I wasn’t functioning well enough until April 22 to actually speak with my daughter. My first question to her was, “How did your speech go today?” Although she didn’t have a speech, she played along.

Her daily updates from that point included reports of my frustration about not being able to move on my own. She’d remind me that I had to listen to medical professionals and learn to give my body time to reset, re-learn and recuperate.

I was transferred out of the ICU on April 23, into an internal medicine ward for isolation and recovery, but not before one more big scare occurred. In my stubbornness — thinking I had beaten the odds and was on a path of recovery — I attempted to move from my bed to the washroom. This small distance of 10 metres may as well have been 10 kilometres. I made it two steps before my body collapsed into itself and all its bodily fluid glory. It took four nurses to recover my laden body from the floor and get me back onto oxygen before it was too late. Even going to the washroom by myself was going to take time.

I knew I was going to beat this on April 24, when a man entered our ward without notice and started berating a nurse and calling her names. My reaction was to try to go after him for his actions. Instead, a willowy-looking doctor stepped in front of me (I wasn’t going to make it anyway) and said, “Don’t worry, I got this.” Sure enough, three minutes later he marched the man out of the ward while I remained in bed with my dignity intact.

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There is still a long way to go as I learn basic life skills again, such as how to walk, how to read and how to write, while looking forward to the return of the wonders of taste and smell. The achievement of breathing once more on my own will come in time, as I currently remain on oxygen.

Some things I will not get back, like time with my family and grandchildren, but at least I now know I will get to complete my symphony.

In closing, I want to thank the AHS staff for all they do for each of us. As my daughter put it, “There is no greater example of a superhero than those that choose to don the many capes of our health-care professionals — all of those that ensure that each of us have the best opportunity to come through this and be with our family once more.”

This story couldn’t have unfolded without plenty of support from my family, including my daughter, CJ, who is co-author and made sure that I kept my thoughts in line; she recorded the chords for this symphony so that they could be passed on to others.

Russ Ullyot is former editor of the Bow Valley Crag and Canyon in Banff/Canmore.