Lauren Nichols
Photography credit to Morgana Wingard @covid19survivordiaries
“I realized that the only way the public could relate and listen, and for the public and policy makers to know the truth from patients, was to set aside fears of public vulnerability and share the reality of the fight from a patient’s perspective.”
COVID-19 is personal, so let’s make it personal.
As someone who’s always been incredibly active, high energy, and healthy (aside from a lifelong battle with chronic insomnia), I would have laughed if someone told me I’d be battling 4 months of persistent, debilitating symptoms from an invisible foe. If someone told me that at age 32, during the exact month that I was hoping to start a family, that I’d be diagnosed with a novel virus seemingly from a sci-fi plot, it’d be fuel for some amazing jokes. So while there’s not much to laugh about when you get a Covid-19 diagnosis, it’s somewhat comical how much you feel like you’re living in a bad X-Files episode, although that alien that you want to believe is a virus that makes it impossible not to believe.
My name is Lauren and I’m a Federal Manager, Spiritual Medium, cat mom, and wife, who now goes by the title of Covid Survivor, “Long Hauler”, Advocate, and Study Subject. I began feeling ill the week of March 9 when Covid was first becoming documented in the US, and despite difficulties accessing a test because of medical gaslighting, I received a positive PCR test on March 17. My first symptoms were unlike the symptoms shared by the CDC at the time, with severe upper and lower GI issues and pain, dermatological, neurological, temperature regulatory, and respiratory symptoms seeing the start of my battle. These were just some of the dozens of moderate-to-severe symptoms I’ve battled throughout my (thus far) 4 month fight.
After remaining in isolation in a tiny room for 4 weeks - since hospital beds were scarce at the time of my diagnosis, and although I was waking up gasping for air, I was not ill enough to be on a ventilator - I quickly realized that my battle was unlike the 2 week battle touted by the government. I realized that the only way the public could relate and listen, and for the public and policy makers to know the truth from patients, was to set aside fears of public vulnerability and share the reality of the fight from a patient’s perspective. Although I truly did not have the energy to do so, I fought through the extreme pain and discomfort to share my symptoms and experiences via Instagram daily for over 100 days, to help enlighten others.
My fight has been physically and emotionally terrifying in many ways, and as us first wave patients are truly pioneers (with doctors learning from us, versus the other way around), it’s as if we’re the test dummies in the first cart of a brand new rollercoaster, praying that we don’t fall out with each bump felt, and praying that an end will come and that we’ll return to solid ground safely. After over 120 days of constant symptoms - with many diminishing at 3.5 months, and others remaining strong at 4 months - I have not yet found that safe ground and I have no idea when or if I will.
For me, Covid has been both a physical and mental isolation sentence within isolation, but has also been a way to use my pain for good: to help spread transparency, awareness, and truth, free from politics or divisive beliefs, at a time when humanity needs it most. I could talk for days about my symptoms and share the gory details, but that’s not most important to hear. What’s more important is sharing that Covid is the ultimate humanizer: this virus crosses all demographics, geographic boundaries, cultures, political parties, religions, and so on, and the sooner we listen to what it’s doing to humans on a human level, the sooner we can face this foe from a united, collective mindset. Scully would agree.
There’s still so much unknown about this virus and it’s long-term effects, and there are still so many people feeling invincible and in denial about its reality. I implore you to understand that when your once normally operating body fails you, your once normally positive medical experiences turn into traumatizing and unhelpful battles, and your once normally active life turns into a distant reality, you will ‘get it’. But as a Covid survivor I want you to ‘get it’ now. I want you to never feel like the crash dummy constantly on the verge of falling, and constantly staring at a horizon of potential lifetime of complications, requiring patients to live an unprecedented, debilitating and unknown virus before science, medical knowledge, and policy catch up.
To truly understand Covid-19 we need to hear directly from those experiencing the virus on the front lines, from both medical professionals and patients alike. That information will only better our ability to paint a true picture of “recovery” at both the patient-level and national-level, as returning to work will look differently for those who have been stricken with this virus. It will also help us to move forward as a nation with compassion and true understanding about what we can expect from our afflicted but slowly recovering workforce, and what can be expected if a diagnosis hits closer to home for you or your loved ones.
Transparency and knowledge is the best medicine that we can provide at this point, and that is something that ALL of us can contribute without relying on others to do so on our behalf.
At the end of the day this virus affects PEOPLE and it’s PEOPLE that we can relate to and learn from. It’s PEOPLE that will help to better our global understanding of this virus and it’s many facets from day 1 of symptoms to day 51 of symptoms, and surely well beyond.
Real personal stories trigger real personal accountability and awareness, and that is vital to being holistically responsible in how we approach the topic of “recovery” as both a nation and as individuals.
@laurenthemedium helps manage the @wearebodypolitic COVID-19 support group on Slack. For more information, visit wearebodypolitic.com/covid19. Lauren’s story is originally featured on Covid19SurvivorDiaries.com