Anna-Lee Botha overcame a Covid diagnosis and time on a ventilator in the ICU with the help of incredible nurses and doctors; she thanked them for saving her life.
South Africa (18 August 2021) – Anna Lee Botha found herself fighting for her life in the ICU with a Covid-19 diagnosis. She went from feeling normal one day to too sick to lift her arms the next.
Anna penned her entire experience, which we will be sharing here on Good Things Guy, in three parts. We published the first part on Monday; part two yesterday and the final instalment can be found below. Anna wanted to give a look at what happens inside the ICU Covid-19 wards and how she found her strength to pull through.
Part 5 – Moving To Surgical ICU
On 09 July, they moved me from Medical ICU to Surgical ICU. This is because I was no longer considered Covid positive, and they were moving me to where I wouldn’t be exposed to the virus as Surgical ICU does not take anyone who is Covid positive.
Now I thought medical ICU was busy, but boy was I wrong. Surgical ICU would get new and very urgent cases coming in at all times of the day or night. The one night at 10 pm, they brought in an old man who was still awake and speaking and even climbed onto the bed himself. And the next minute, he’s not responding, and they are trying to resuscitate him. They worked him for over 2 hours, but they pulled him through. Other cases, they weren’t so lucky. So I didn’t get a lot of rest here.
But each day and each night, I would get assigned a nurse who would be looking after me and a few other people. They have this big table next to your bed with huge sheets of paper where they write down every little detail about you. I had this long red plastic line on my arm that went into my wrist and into the main artery. So, every 4 hours, they would insert a needle in this red line to draw blood as they can judge more accurately how much oxygen is in my blood if it’s taken from the main artery.
I also had a CVP line in my left shoulder. A CVP line is also known as a central line or catheter and is a tube that ends up somewhere in your chest close to a main artery. On the outside, it had 3 tubes that looked like those of a drip, and these could be used to give fluids, blood or medications or to do medical tests quickly.
And I was getting liquid food via a tube that went through my nose to my stomach. On the day they moved me to Surgical ICU, the liquid food was making me feel nauseous, and I threw up 4 times. Throwing up while still attached to a ventilator was not fun. I thought I was going to die, and this was the first time I cried. My hands are tied to the bed, and I can’t talk to tell them. The best I could do was lean as far over the bed as I could, hoping I don’t get anything on me or the bedding.
Then they had to clean me up every time, which was exhausting. And rinse and suction my mouth. I hated that the most as they don’t suction the water fast enough, and it runs down your throat, and it feels like you’re going to suffocate. And at the same time, I felt grateful for that little bit of water running down my throat as you don’t eat or drink anything while on the ventilator. I spent many moments daydreaming about the gallons of water I was going to drink when the ventilator came out. Through all of this, the medical staff kept helping me and trying to keep me calm, helped me get cleaned up etc.
Only after this and once I got to Surgical ICU was I able to get my hands on my phone. I was so weak I had to prop up the phone and, with one shaky finger, typed a message to the family group to say hi. The nurse watching over me agreed to untie my one hand so I could use my phone as she was constantly there. My family hadn’t heard from me since 27 June when I went in to ICU, and their responses were so heartwarming and encouraging.
Through all this, I kept on speaking openly and honestly to God. I know now He wants to use my testimony not only to show people the miracle He performed in my life but also to educate people on the virus and what actually goes on inside the hospitaI.
On 10 July, I got the best news from my doctor, my infection count is down to 8, and I’m doing so well they can remove the ventilator. I was overjoyed. But good grief removing that thing is something out of a horror movie. Along with the ventilation pipe, there is another pipe, the one they use for suction if there is any moisture build up in the pipes or phlegm, you need to cough up. The problem with this is they insert a suction pipe which literally steals your air and forces you to cough until tears run down your face. So first, they removed the feeding tube that was in my nose, which wasn’t too bad. But then, to remove the tube from my throat, they had to do the suction thing 3 times, and each time they did that, more of the pipe is removed.
And oh my goodness, the sounds my vocal cords were making. I sounded like Schmiegl from the Lord of the Rings movies. But finally, it came out, and I received a nasal canula and 10 litres of oxygen which the doctor gradually brought down over the next few days whilst monitoring every stat under the sun to make sure I’m stable. And at least they could untie my hands, finally.
Remember the gallons of water I was longing for? That didn’t happen as I had to learn again how to swallow food and water without choking or getting any of it into my lungs. So I was on a clear liquid diet for two days. I also could not use a knife and fork and had to teach myself and practice how to hold the utensils correctly. I was super careful with everything and made sure to eat and drink very slowly.
I started on my hands and arm exercises the physio gave me. I couldn’t lift my arms above my head or use them much. And my whole body was very shaky, especially my hands and fingers. The physio explained that for every 24 hours of lying still, my muscles and receptors had basically gone dormant and forgot how to work. That’s when I knew I’m going to have to learn all over how to do everything, including walking.
Part 6 – The General Wards and Going Home
On 14 July, they moved me from ICU to the general wards. What a feeling knowing I pulled through and that I can now really focus on healing. Every day I open my eyes, I thank God first for another day that I’m alive. I will never take anything for granted again. As soon as I got there, I sent a video call to my husband and saw him and the kids for the first time again. The joy that lit up those little faces was priceless. From there, we had 2 video calls a day which helped a bit with the loneliness and being homesick.
On 15 July, my oxygen was turned down to 2 litres of oxygen, and my stats were stable. I was well on my way to healing and, according to the staff, a walking miracle.
And so began my physio journey. I was given exercises to do for my legs and arms to strengthen them a bit more. And then I got to sit up on the side of the bed for the first time in weeks. That felt so good, and the physio encouraged me to do this at mealtimes so I can build up strength but not overdo it with my lungs. Then she handed me a walking frame and said, we are only going to practice standing and sitting. It became clear to me very quickly just how weak I was.
I managed to stand with the support of the physio and walking frame. The bed height was adjustable, and we found that a higher height was easier for me to handle. On 16 July, I gave my first steps. It was amazing to me how dumb and heavy my muscles felt, but I walked a few steps with the walker and physio supporting me.
This is where I learned to celebrate the small victories to help build morale. And I had 3 great roommates who were my cheerleaders. Then on the same day, my heart started beating really fast. I wasn’t sure why as mentally, I was calm and feeling fine. So they had to do an EKG to monitor me and gave me medication for it. The doctor explained that this happens with Covid patients and takes time to go away. I’m currently on medication to avoid this. But again, small victory, my infection count was down to 6, woohoo.
And also, on the same day, late that afternoon, I develop a fever of 39.2 that wouldn’t come down. They drew blood, took a urine sample and a chest x-ray to check everything. I had a secondary infection in my bladder due to the catheter, so they had to remove the catheter and started me on a hectic course of antibiotics that could only be given by drip. And then my dignity suffered a bit more when I was given a nappy to wear…yes, a nappy. Because I couldn’t walk yet and the toilet was too low for me to get up from.
On 19 July, I managed to walk around my bed twice using the walking frame. The general wards are much more peaceful and quiet at night, so I was also getting much more sleep. With the help of the physio, I started walking the length of our room using the walker, doing more rounds every day.
On 25 July, I got up off the bed, not using the walker, only the support of the physio by holding her one hand and her other hand holding my waist. I was walking slowly and got out of breath fast, but I was walking without the walker. And then, on 27 July, I walked completely on my own with no support from the physio. I was progressing with my physio at an amazing rate, and all the other physio ladies who knew me and worked with me from day 1 were amazed at my progress. I could even go to the toilet as I needed only a little assistance in getting up. Another small victory and another something small I’ll never take for granted.
On 29 July, 45 days after being admitted, I was discharged from hospital at about 4 pm. I was beyond excited to see my husband and children and just knew I was going to ugly cry. They put me in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank as I still need to be on 2 litres of oxygen for a while, while I build up my muscle strength so that my lungs don’t get hurt. And then down the lift, we went and outside. Outside. I was outside in the sun and fresh air, and right there was my husband. It was so amazing to see him again to be able to touch him.
The kids were waiting back home with our neighbour watching them. There were brightly coloured I Love You balloons hanging from our gate, and we were still waiting for the gate to open when my 9-year-old daughter was at my car window. We both started crying and holding onto each other. This is the first time in all this time that my daughter broke down crying. She and my 12-year-old son were both troopers through this whole ordeal, staying calm and helping their dad.
Then they waited for me to get out the car and walk to the bedroom. As soon as I sat down, they were next to me, cuddling and crying. Well, my daughter and I were crying. My 12 year old just kept hugging me and telling me it’s okay to cry and everything is going to be okay. That night my husband helped me into the most wonderful bubble bath and washed my hair for the first time in weeks. Dry shampoo can do only so much. And then the kids took turns blow drying my hair and combing it out.
And now, on 05 August, I can walk without any assistance, but I do still need help getting up from lower surfaces, which my husband helps with. But every day, we see improvement and that I’m getting stronger. Today I could dress for the first time. Last night I could shower on my own, I just needed help with my feet as I can’t quite reach my feet yet when I’m standing.
I have very few Covid symptoms at the moment, mostly a recurring headache and then a sore and irritated throat. But the doctor said that is because of the ventilator pipe, and it’s going to take a while for my throat and vocal cords to heal. I still don’t sound quite like myself, my voice is a few octaves lower than usual, but it’s getting there.
One step at a time, one day at a time. But I will do whatever it takes to get back to normal again so I can live my life to the best of my ability, appreciating everything and not taking anything for granted. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for helping me pull through, for not leaving my side and sending comfort in some of the darkest moments of my life.
Part 7 – Our Frontline Workers
I needed to add this last part. I’ve been on the other side, and I’ve seen what happens and how sick this virus makes people.
But I’ve also seen our doctors, nurses, physiotherapists, lab technicians, radiology technicians, cleaning staff etc. come to work day after day knowing what they are going to see and knowing the patient or patients they just spoke to yesterday might not be there anymore when they get to work the next day.
They are dedicated, but they are also so tired. Some of them have worked more days overtime than their actual shift time. Sometimes they don’t even get a chance to eat because they are running from room to room and patient to patient.
But they are short-staffed and doing the absolute best they can. And they are scared. They have families to go home to after each shift, and they don’t want to stand a chance of infecting them, so they either self isolate when they get home or have other measures in place. The doctor they assigned me is, in my eyes, one of the best. If I had a question, he would take the time to patiently explain my question to me. In my 45 days in hospital, he only took off 2 days. The rest of the time, I saw him every day.
I’ve seen them laugh and make jokes in the hallways, a good way to deal with everything they see on a daily basis. I’ve seen them form long lines of respect down the hallways when someone who didn’t make it is rolled away. I’ve seen them cry because they have lost yet another one. I’ve seen them pray together at every shift change, put on brave faces and go about their work with a smile on their faces to encourage their patients.
In ICU, they spent time encouraging me, singing songs to me or dancing for me or just talking to me. And in the general wards where I could speak, I eventually learned the names of all the nurses on day and night shift in my ward just to show them in a small way how I appreciate their care.
And nothing was too much trouble for them, they would tell me time, and again they are there to help me. Sometimes they took long to answer if I called. But I understood because every bed in that hospital was full, and there are not enough nurses. But I honestly cannot fault their care of me in any way while I was with them.
Our frontline workers deserve a lot more respect from us. You have read the things I’ve experienced. Now imagine having to see that daily. It’s literally your job to go to work and be traumatized by what you see. Most of us have no idea the trauma and stress these people go through. I salute each and every one of them and will be keeping them in my prayers.
Thanks so much to everyone who followed my journey. It’s still an ongoing journey, but at least I can walk now without any assistance. Just short distances, but we take it one day at a time and positive thoughts. Still working on standing up on my own from lower surfaces, but at least today, I was able to dress myself without assistance. Celebrate your small and your big victories.
I hope my story helped you better understand what goes on, on the other side and how dangerous this virus really is. Don’t listen to all the fear-mongering on social media but rather educate yourself from sources that are accredited or personal experiences like mine.
It is my hope and prayer that this will soon be over, and we can all return to normal…a new normal, yes, but that has got to be better than what we are all going through right now. If you have any questions at all, feel free to message me, and please feel free to share my story.
by 