The COVID Patient’s Tale

Before I share my tale of woe, maybe I should insert this to clarify the conclusions at which arrived. I want to talk about troubleshooters and what they do.

As I matured through my early-to-late twenties, and I began to see the world as it really was, I realized that the word “expert” was being abused and totally overused. Those who, for whatever reason, were called experts, especially those who were self-proclaimed experts, seemed to be far from any such thing. A friend of mine put it this way… “When I was a child, I thought the epitome of maturity and wisdom could be found in our leaders. When I became a man, I put away (all such) childish ideas.”

Along those lines, then, it eventually became clear to me that most medical doctors were nothing more than troubleshooters. Alternatively, a surgeon with a prescribed task – remove a tumor – has his/her job defined. Success or failure depends on expertise.

There’s nothing wrong with a doctor being a troubleshooter because to solve a problem – why am I sick – one needs to define the problem and then logically arrive at a fix for the problem, i.e., troubleshoot. Sometimes you’re right, other times, not so much. For instance, if a mechanic diagnoses your automobile’s problem as a bad battery, he can swap in another battery he has laying around to verify his conclusion. Other parts might not lend themselves to such an easy diagnosis – such as an alternator, that might end up costing a thousand dollars, after all is said and done, could be quite costly if that doesn’t solve the problem. Likewise, if a doctor thinks you have a bad kidney, swapping in another as a troubleshooting test might not be that easy or wise, and the diagnosis could be wrong. That’s the core of troubleshooting.

Again, I don’t demean troubleshooters… I was one and earned a good wage at it because of my abilities as such. I worked as a radar system engineer, responsible to keep highly technical naval radar systems operating. When there was a failure, we opened the book to see what the design engineers could tell us about the system and relied on BITE (built in test equipment) circuitry for a fix. But when those options provided no answer, it was time to roll up our sleeves, get out the schematics, and get to work probing the equipment with oscilloscopes, and the like, to identify what wasn’t doing what it was supposed to be doing.

Unfortunately, it seems, and especially with COVID, the establishment medical community was not really doing the job of troubleshooting. It became the expected norm to follow what the CDC said to do – Remdesivir and the likes – which, when such attempts failed to heal, ended up sending the patient to the ventilator and usually to his/her death. This one-fit-for-all begins to look worse and worse as the answer. What I realize is I was being treated by a group of, so-called, “experts” who would come into my room to see how the prescribed CDC treatment was advancing. Was I getting better? If not, do more of the same. It became clear that many M.D.’s turned from troubleshooters to CDC prescribed treatment managers.

On the other hand, those who were spending time in the field, and having much success, in treating COVID in the non-CDC protocols, were cancelled, silenced, and worse. Real troubleshooters were applying tried and true methods that were bringing results while the establishment medical community offered no treatment whatsoever other than home quarantine or admission into the hospital if that didn’t help. Hydroxychloroquine, Ivermectin, and other proven remedies were off limits. Hippocrates would be scandalized.

Now, on to my tale…

I entered the hospital, with COVID, just before midnight on December 22nd after being refused monoclonal-antibodies the day before, because my PulseOx level was below 90%. It was recommended that I go to the Emergency Room which I did the next day.

Upon my admission to the hospital, my hemoglobin was good, my iron was good, my liver functions were good, my protein level was good, my BP was 130-to-140 on meds, which meds were discontinued upon admission. I had no coughing, no fever, no congestion, no lung rasp, and no mucus. A chest x-ray identified a COVID infection in my lungs. Thus, I had COVID pneumonia but no pneumonia symptoms other than a low PulseOx level. I was set up with 5 to 7 liters of oxygen.

I was then started on the five-day regimen of Remdesivir. No change. I was then put on the fourteen-day regimen of Baricitnib (which, btw, is not identified as a cure for COVID, it’s stated as of February as “currently being studied” for such). I was being given a steroid injection, anti-clotting meds, and an antibiotic daily. Can’t remember exactly which but, one was daily, the other two were twice daily.

During all this my hemoglobin cratered, my iron and protein levels cratered, and my liver numbers went down. The most significant development, something I could actually feel, was that my blood pressure fell into the 100’s, dipping into the 90’s, at times. I could feel there was something wrong with my BP and it was affecting me. I was put on Midodrine to keep my BP up. I was given a couple saline drip treatments to keep me hydrated and given two iron drip treatments as attempts to counter the drop in BP.

The cratering BP was wreaking havoc. I started to get redness in my stool and the Gastroenterologists were talking about a blood transfusion and, maybe, a colonoscopy (not a good idea when one is on an oxygen supplement already). I protested; there was no loose blood and, sure enough, my stool eventually returned to normal.

During all this, due to low BP, I started to feel really lousy and actually lost my balance and fell, at one point. Everyone, but me, was alarmed over the fall. I knew why I fell.

My oxygen feed requirement, that I was originally trying to get down (needed to be at 4L or lower to go home with oxygen) started to rise. I was eventually getting 15 liters on the high feed. When once I was walking around the room, as recommended, to build myself up in anticipation of going home, I was beginning to feel weak. At that point I was being told to stay off my feet. If I got up to use the bathroom, my PulseOx would dip and a nurse would come rushing in. As soon as I was back in bed my numbers returned to normal.

At this point my main problem was my PulseOx level and my BP. Again, no pneumonia symptoms at all.

Eventually, my strength started coming back. The CDC ordered treatments – Remdesivir and Baricitnib – were in the past and, once again, my oxygen feed requirements were dropping. Eventually the steroid and anti-clotting injections were discontinued, as well.

When the Gastroenterologist signed off on me, he admitted that the steroids could have caused a small blood leak that was now clear.

On January 18th, after approximately four weeks in a hospital bed, I went home where I was provided with a home oxygen generator that I used for about three weeks. On March 31st, my second follow-up with the Pulmonologist, I passed the 6-minute walking test, keeping my PulseOx between 95-97 percent.

I then called in to have the home oxygen unit picked up. It had been three or four weeks since I had needed it. My last chest x-ray showed some residual scarring from the COVID that is hoped by the pulmonologist will clear up. As for my health, it is all good, although I can still feel a little bit of pressure in my lungs occasionally, and I still tire more easily than before. In the words of the band Chicago, “I do believe I’m feeling stronger every day.”

This was my harrowing experience, not with COVID but, with the CDC treatment for COVID that does not allow for any therapeutics except steroids. In retrospect, I think my greatest problem was not the disease but the Fauci ordered “treatment” for the disease, seemingly the only treatment allowable. While in hospital, a close friend, my age (69), entered with COVID and coughing so badly he could not talk. While having diabetes and having had a couple stents, he looked to be in good health and, to look at him, you’d never guess he was diabetic. On the day I left, he was placed on a ventilator. His wife was assured by the doctors that they did not see any problems for him and expected him to fully recover. A few days later his BP dropped precipitously, they were unable to stabilize it, and he died. (R.I.P., my friend.)