three years on from covid 19
Three years ago, on 1st April, my body would finally admit defeat and give in to C*vid19. 
I’d been fighting for 10 days at this point. 
Then the seizures came. An infection would go to my brain and I’d be taken from my family and into hospital. 
I’d wake up in 4 days times, surrounded by beeping machines and people wearing head to toe PPE. It looked like some sort of alien experiment in the Covid-19 intensive care ward. 
I have zero recollection of what had happened, and I didn’t even recall what a ‘covid’ was. Was it a person? Was it a thing? I remember a nurse explain what it was and how the world was going into meltdown and I needed to stay calm. 
My initial response was to escape. That’s my go to “plan” whenever I wake up in hospital. Rip out the IV’s and escape. 
But my body wasn’t able. So I found my phone and started calling for help. I called my family and this would have been the first time they had heard from me or the hospital in FOUR days. They didn’t know if I was dead or alive. The NHS was already struggling and calling relatives was not on their priority list. Understandable but surely someone could have called? 
My brain was in pieces and I could barely remember who I was let alone who I needed to contact. So, I promised my mum I would just go back to sleep and stay in touch when I woke up. 
It was a crazy couple of days that followed. People dying around me. People rushing around. Not being able to move. It was horrific. 
As you can probably tell, I survived. I am of course here to tell the tale. 
I still have only about 10% memory from December 2019 to June 2020. The doctors think my memory is gone or my brain may just be “masking the trauma”. 
Three years on I am still struggling, on a daily basis with Long Covid. My breathing still isn’t the same. My body has never fully recovered. I’m currently being treated for fatigue and possible sleep apnea, possible PTSD and various other mental health issues that could have been triggered or created thanks to what happened. Even having a day out will result in me being wiped out for the next 3-4 days. 
Every day, just getting out of bed is a struggle. I mean a HUGE struggle. My biometrics show that even if I sleep for 12 hours my body only recovers to about 65-70%. 8 hours and I’m usually looking at 40-60% recovery. 
Covid changed my life. Definitely not for the better but I have learned a lot from my experience. 
- Health. Is so important. Cherish it. Do what you can to look after it. 
- Friends and Family. Stick with the ones who bring you happiness and bin the rest. Bin the people who give you bad gut feelings or make you feel uneasy. 
- Work. Even if it brings you joy, it’s the last thing we should worry about. 
- Habits. Create microhabits and build from them. Don’t start big. 
- Help. Ask for help before the problem becomes too big. If it be a task, a trip to the GP, stuff around the house. Get help before it’s too late or too much of a problem. 
When your health is taken away it does start a snowball effect on the rest of your life. I’m one of the ‘lucky’ ones. If you’re reading this you are lucky too. 💚  
Want to know more? Or maybe you'd like a habit building session with me? Get in touch.  
Until next time, 
Dee x 
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