Social distancing? ✔ hand washing? ✔sanitising ✔mask ✔immuno-boosting? ✔healthy? … + still positive!
Yes, despite doing ‘everything’ according to the prescribed advice and precautionary measures, I still got Covid-19. I can count on one hand the amount of times I left the house before being diagnosed. To this day I am still baffled as to how I got it, but what I know now is that I needed a life uplevelling experience (as I call it).
It all started with flu-like symptoms. Thinking this can only be seasonal flu because of ticking all of the above precautionary measures, I doubled on the immune boosters and put it down to stress. I took a quick trip to the local pharmacy and made a purchase of regular over-the-counter flu meds. I cleared my coaching diary and allowed myself some time for self-care. There was only minimal coughing. The two admonitory Covid tests came back negative; so I concluded it must be a lung infection?
The two days thereafter honestly became a blur but I remember somewhere before seeing a doctor having severe chills, being outright exhausted and I recall the night sweats and fevers so bad that I woke up to change pyjamas and to put my duvet in the tumble drier.
With my family knowing how strong-willed and stubborn I am, a doctor’s appointment was made for me. This healer needed help. I was not just run down. Still confident it’s only a lung infection, I was ready to walk straight into the clinic, only to be told I would be seen to in the car. Expressing once again my negative tests, I was prescribed some additional medication and instructed to rest.
I arranged for another Covid test on this day to rule this out as an option again – Positive.
I will never forget the thousand thoughts that ran through my head in that moment.
What do I do now? What do I need? Will my family who had been in contact with me be okay?
How did this even happen? How did this happen to me, a healer and intuitive? I’m not that sick, how can this be Covid? What happens to my family if anything happens to me? How will my brothers cope with losing their mom and sister within six months?
Between Wednesday and Saturday things went from ‘okay’ to ‘get to hospital!’
I had an oxygen concentrator, was on a frighteningly long list of supplements and medications.
I was sitting and sleeping upright, yet my oxygen levels had dropped to 65. It’s at this time that your body goes into panic because it knows it’s not getting enough oxygen to support itself.
Within minutes paramedics arrived and we made a call to get me to the nearest hospital that could take me in to stabilise me. I remember within the panic one of my siblings not being able to find my everyday slippers and me screaming out “Just get the unicorns” so off I went, sirens blaring in pyjamas and unicorn slippers.
This was the very first time in my life I had been in a hospital for anything other than stitches acquired as a child while playing (also read not listening). I was cold, scared and had no idea what to expect. I was having a drip put in and blood drawn and was uncertain of so many things. In my head people who go to hospital with Covid don’t make it home.
The hospital I was initially taken to was not equipped to handle Covid cases, so another bed needed to be sourced. After three people calling for 20 minutes, an ICU bed was found; at a government hospital. Every person’s worst nightmare. I weighed up my chances of just going home, as well as of waiting for another bed. However, having gone through something similar with my mother in January and thus knowing that these beds are in short supply, I was hauled back into the ambulance for a trip to the East Rand of Gauteng.
Upon arrival I was greeted by my brothers; second to the nursing staff they are the real heroes of this story. What they did for me and the quick thinking, even trying to buy me a ventilator, is just the greatest display of sibling love. It’s no surprise that they were to become my motivation to get home.
I was placed in a ward with two other patients, both of whom were on oxygen, one more severe than the other. Before being discharged there were to be a total of six women in my ward. By the looks of things, I had the most comfortable bed – that’s about the only good thing to come of this predicament I found myself in. The nurses were extremely attentive and embraced me, their new patient, with kindness and compassion. Everything that the building lacked in warmth they seemed to provide.
The ward sounded like a train station, it is the busiest and loudest environment I have ever been in. The constant talking of nurses, changing of nappies, giving of medication, drips, SAT checking and the constant hum and beeping of machines made it nearly impossible to rest.
The meals were quite an adjustment and very far removed from my diet of fresh crisp veggies and chicken breast. They arrive in a polystyrene take-away type box and it was always a surprise as to what was inside. It’s amazing how quickly you can adjust and eat things you ordinarily wouldn’t when you know that that is all you have and you know that your body needs strength. The only warm drink is sweet tea, and it was my favourite time of day. That one steamy cup of comfort before bed was bliss, accompanied by jam or peanut butter sandwiches cut into triangles. There was a certain nostalgia that came with them, like being back in nursery school. Tea was quickly followed by ‘lights out’ and a welcome rest, given the day I had had.
I was awoken at 5am to nurses and honestly was unimpressed because I’m not an early riser but, needless to say, here I am. Unable to have a bed bath because I didn’t realise I needed toiletries. A quick text to my family resolved that. What followed was enough to bring tears to my eyes and restore all faith in this hospital that was showing its age and not in a fine wine kind of way. Down the hallway I could hear an eruption of singing, a choir. It turned out to be the nurses at shift change that came together to sing songs of faith and hope and it truly was the most beautiful thing I had heard all year. This would go on to become a daily occurrence, I loved it.
On this day though, the first person in our ward passed away, (there were two deaths in total but this one hit the hardest). Having lost my own mother, I sat there thinking of her family and the devastation and emptiness that awaits them. I sat there remembering my own loss and I cried for all of us. I did what any intuitive would do and called in her angels and guides to ensure safe passage and sent angels to her loved ones in their time of loss. The other lady and I just sat there wondering if we would share the same fate.
She became my friend. She never spoke any English but I knew she had the heart of a lioness. I shared food and extra beverages that my family brought with her and gave her balloons to practice breathing exercises and get those lungs breathing and working. She had such a radiant will to get better, as did I!
My time in ICU gave me such an appreciation for my life. There were days that I would cry for the simple fact that I was alive and recovering.
Despite not being able to change my clothes for five days and not shower until I got home (as a curly-haired girl, I want you to just imagine), I looked around me and realised how fortunate I was. I had the support of other healers, sending me love and healings via a global ThetaHealing community, working with my higher self, placing me on healing grids, having me on SCIO Quantum Biofeedback machines. I did five meditations a day with subconscious clearing and witnessing my own healing in absolute fullness. I did breathing exercises (balloon breathing and holding my breath) every few hours and, as a result of all of the above, by Tuesday I was able to use the (one working) restroom by myself. As someone who did Obstacle Course Racing, CrossFit and is a Powerlifter I can tell you it was the most exhausting experience of my life; it felt like I had run a marathon. I sat in the cubicle wondering if the push for help button still worked, but I summoned my inner resilience, the same resilience that has me lifting 100+ kgs and took a slow walk back to my bed without needing the midway oxygen stop. This was how I knew I could get home to my loved ones and my fur babies!
By Wednesday I was feeling like me; the nurses had been telling me my positivity was going to ensure my recovery. My drive to recover as opposed to succumbing to my illness worked. The doctors announced they were preparing me for discharge! I told the entire world, my brothers were especially happy. From being afraid of losing their little sister to her coming home. This also meant that they could stop the daily trips to bring me stuff, like a change of clothes that arrived and was finally permitted in!
Thursday was another day of ‘interesting’ meals, that incessant hum, but also the day that I heard the most spectacular news. You are being discharged tomorrow Miss Boyce. We are taking you off all oxygen to monitor your breathing (which was stable at 90 while off oxygen).
That evening I enjoyed my last cup of sweet tea, the nurses knew to bring me two by now. I thought of how lucky I was to have seen such significant progress in such a short space of time. No one else’s oxygen had even decreased at this stage and there were more patients in another ward now on ventilators. While I could have had a hint of guilt, what I really had was a thankfulness for my restored health and proof that we can heal ourselves.
My heart, while nervous, was overjoyed. I knew the journey to recovery was about to start.
I was packed up and ready to go early on Friday morning. Ready more than anything to wash my hair! I still needed to distance myself from my family who were all negative, thankfully. I asked my brothers to bring cake for all the staff who had taken such good care of me and, quite unceremoniously, was wheeled out.
My week in ICU with Covid pneumonia gave me so much to reflect on. I left there with the greatest appreciation for my life! I am thankful to be alive, I am thankful that I get to live. I am thankful for my uplevelling because that’s literally what Covid was for me. More than that, I became thankful for the very basics that include my bed, a shower, the food I am accustomed to and my health. There is an entire list of things I realised I took for granted.
I have been home and recovering for a month now. Living very differently, eating differently and responding to life differently. My consciousness quite honestly has shifted, I am whole and renewed and thankful for this virus and this experience. I realise that I am one of the fortunate ones and I am going to continue to live as though I am!
Michellé Pearl, creator of Aligned with Life is a spiritual intuitive and an accomplished ThetaHealing® practitioner and facilitator, Michellé helps clients align with their own divinity and truest potential. She assists in discovering and releasing limiting subconscious belief programmes which then enables others to live a life they love. To contact Michellé visit https://www.alignedwithlife.co.za or follow her on Facebook @AlignedWithLife