Surviving the Storm: My Miracle Journey Through Covid-19

How many miracles have you experienced and witnessed during your lifetime?

I have one that I will never forget, and it's mine to tell. You see, just a few weeks back, I told God I wanted to learn how to be obedient and to say "yes." As I sat here with tons of to-do lists on a Sunday (school work, client work, and consulting work), I had far more urgent things to do than to write this blog post. However, I felt God nudging me to share this story with you.

I don't know how you found my blog post, but if you came across this post today, God wants you to read it for sure.

In July of 2021, Covid found me. It was the Delta strand that took me by surprise. I think I got it during one of the public activities we did in preparation for the local election. Three days after the activity, a sore throat hit, and the rest followed suit. I found myself gasping for air, unable to breathe during my isolation, which prompted me to go to the hospital. When I arrived in the ER, fear gripped me. I saw firsthand Covid patients who, like me, were gasping for air, and I got very scared. So instead of allowing the hospital to take me in, I signed a waiver and requested the nurses to take me to a nearby Covid facility instead, hoping I would be healed within 14 days, hoping I would get through just like the majority of the world did.

As I spent my first nights alone in isolation, anxiety and panic overwhelmed me. There were nights my fever would reach 42, and I would find myself gasping for air. I could barely move, barely even get to the comfort room. I lost my appetite, and worse, I couldn't sleep. I remember having my iPad constantly playing worship songs to replace the fear that was slowly eating me away.

With a medical background, I knew I was getting worse day by day. I found myself lying to the nurses who would call my phone every morning to check on me. I would tell them my oxygen was at 90 when in fact, it was down to 88 or 87 at times. I would cry and shout to God at night, but even crying took a toll on me. I couldn't breathe; I felt like I was drowning. Food from friends and family would come every day, but it would be left untouched because I just couldn't make it to the door anymore. Every inch of movement I made felt like I was about to die.

One morning, my oxygen got to 85, and I knew I couldn't lie anymore because I knew at any moment I could die. When the nurses called that morning, they told me they had to bring me to the hospital. Although part of me felt relieved, my heart was so scared. I remember falling at my bedside as I tried to gather strength to fix my things, but I was so weak. I found my fingers turning bluish, and I caught a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I couldn't even recognize myself. That was when I knew death was near.

I called my husband and told him I had to be brought to the hospital, and I kept crying. I remember my husband crying and shouting because I was telling him I couldn't do anything. He was so furious and helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do from there. He wanted me to fight, but I was too tired.

The ambulance arrived, but they were so scared to help me. They told me I had to bring all my things to the ambulance because they were not allowed to touch any of my things.

But I couldn't; I didn't have enough physical strength. I couldn't breathe.

I remember enduring the most painful walk I had to do in my entire life. I took 20 steps until I got to the ambulance. But those 20 steps felt like an eternity. I was crying the whole time.

In the emergency room, the best my family could do was to ask my nephew to come see me. He glanced at me, and I saw fear in his eyes, the fear that he knew how bad it was for me. I sat there in a wheelchair for hours, waiting for my turn, waiting for a bed.

As they wheeled me into the Covid ward, my anxiety went through the roof. Day and night, I would hear patients gasping for help, nurses in code blue, doctors announcing people dying in the next room.

I could no longer sleep without sitting. I had oxygen in me, then I started bleeding. I couldn't breathe at all anymore. I remember calling my husband but not showing him my face because they would know I was gasping for air. I would just always keep the camera in my eyes.

That second night, I knew in my heart I was nearing the end.

When the nurses checked my oxygen, my oxygen levels dropped despite being in high oxygen levels. I remember one nurse coming close to me and telling me, we will wheel you into the ICU if your oxygen levels continue to drop.

They checked back after an hour, and my oxygen levels dropped three more notches.

They told me they would bring me to the ICU, but there's no vacancy, so I'd have to wait.

My heart suddenly raced. I was so scared. I remember crying while singing praise. I remember singing "I raise a Hallelujah" in my head over and over again. That phrase "I'm going to sing in the middle of the storm, louder and louder, you're gonna hear my praises roar, death is defeated, the King is alive."

I remember praying, I surrender to death, I surrender my family into God's hands, and I surrender my life, but I will raise my Hallelujah in the midst of my dark valley. That evening they asked me to sign a waiver, a sign to allow them to bring me to the ICU, a waiver to allow them to inject Remvisidir, a waiver to allow them to intubate.

I remember asking the nurse if I could sign a DNR - Do not resuscitate. She ignored me. She said we should focus on getting me to the ICU first.

That night I called my husband. I told him they might bring me to the ICU.

But I didn't tell him I would be intubated.

That night I prayed to accept the end of my journey.

Then as I slept, I got this very vivid dream. The scene is me in the airport, blue waiting chairs. I was wearing white and jeans, a pillow in my neck and a luggage bag. I can hear announcements on the speakers of flights being boarded. I know I was about to go on a plane, but I don't remember where I am going. I sat there waiting until I felt sleepy. Then I heard my Mama woke me up and said, "Nen, you're not leaving yet, you're not coming with us." I was so sure it was my mom's voice, so I tried to wake up from sleep and looked for her. True enough, I found myself gasping for air when I woke up. I could barely open my eyes, and I faintly saw the toilet sign right in front of me. I was so confused if it was happening in real life or if it was a dream. I thought I was still in the airport, so I tried to move, but I couldn't. I saw the IV line, then I remembered I was in the hospital. I tried to look for my mama, but she is no longer there.

I cried so hard. I knew it was her. I knew it was real. I felt her touching me.

That same morning, I found out my Uncle (her brother passed away)

Seven days after that dream, I got out of the hospital, survived Covid.

I lived.

There are thousands of loved ones we have lost in Covid, and there are others like me who survived to live and tell the tale.

I know in my heart that is my miracle story. God healed me and gave me a second chance in life for a reason.

Life has not been easy after that, in fact even until now, I have a lot of difficulties and face a lot of trials financially, emotionally, and spiritually. But today, I want to obey God by sharing my miracle story.

I am unsure as to why He wanted me to write this here. I struggled because this piece of my life is very personal. And telling this story means I have to relive the pain of it. But I am sure He wants me to put it out here so that perhaps you can find it.

I don't know what you are going through, perhaps you are also in this dark valley that I went through, but I just want you to know, God will never abandon you. As dark as that tunnel may seem, it may feel like you are walking through it alone, please know you are not, in fact, He is carrying you through it. So you can see the end where the light is.

He loves you. And He will never leave you.

Keep the faith going.