Covid isolation

 Before you worry too much, no, I don't have covid, and no, I was not exposed.  Two years ago, due to having a fever and issues with keeping my oxygen up, I was one of the first Duke patients to go into covid isolation despite my team not thinking I had it. Now that I'm not out of it, and can look  back, that was a crazy time. 

Growing up, I loved the book "the hot zone" and watched the movie, fascinated with the isolation and how the researchers and doctors had to suit up to go in. I thought I would want to study viruses because it was so cool. Later, after I started actually working with bacteria, I realized that was more my interest.  But learning in grad school the info about how infections happen, how they spread, and how to protect yourself, I remember feeling really safe at Duke.  I wasn't happy to go into covid isolation, and they did not handle it in the best way, but I remember thinking that even though I did not have covid, I felt safer to know that if anyone else in the hospital did, they would also be isolated. 

Granted, the intrigue at the process, watching the nurse and doctors gowning up in the negative pressure room, feeling like I was in a fishbowl, did get old after not too long. I was really lucky to actually work at the hospital and have friends who also knew the rules, so we could figure out a way to get me phone numbers so I wouldn't be so bored. 

I was also really worried about not being on the transplant list and what that would mean overall for the timing, and was itching to get to see Peter again. I don't think we told you how it went for us to get out of isolation. 

I went in on a wednesday afternoon that I was moved up to the ICU for isolation, and I think the team scared my dad and Peter as there were all of a sudden a bunch of people in the hallway outside my door, including people in suits (which means adminstrators).  As the morning progressed, they kept putting different contact precautions on my door, and even made dad and Peter put on masks (and maybe gowns, I can't remember)

Then they told us about going upstairs, but it was pretty hush hush.  They gave Peter the bags, including the one that was supposed to come with me with my phone, and walked me to the ICU.  It was so quiet, since I was mostly alone in the room. I luckily started feeling better Thursday and Friday.  On Friday we got the news that even though I was feeling better, I needed a negative covid test. The state lab could not run my sample, so they sent it somewhere else.  On saturday in the early evening, we were told we would get the results. As soon as the negative result came in, Peter immediately drove over.  The nurse had opened my isolation doors and I was expecting to be moved that night. 

Peter got to my room, and a few minutes later the nurse came to let me know that there was some grumbilng because my test was a "presumptive negative" since it was not an fda approved test, and some of hte doctors wanted to put me back in isolation until I had an approved negative result. Mind you, I don't think there really were fda approved tests at that point, and if there were they were few and far between. I decided that I was done with being cooperative, and I called my heart failure doc on his cell phone to tell him the situation. He let me know he would handle it.  

The transplant team was able to talk them down, and we were told that since it was so late (after 10 at this point), that Peter could stay over and we would be moved on Sunday morning. Looking back, I can see the humor in some of this, but it was definitely not as humorous at the time. 

I'm thankful that this happened right at the beginning, before there started being a bunch of actual covid cases at the hospital. Hopefully they were able to learn some things in terms of gettting in and out of the rooms. I never thought that 2 years later, there would still be patients with covid in the ICU's or us having to worry about going into covid isolation or quarantine. It's definitely been an eventful two years!