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Coronavirus survivor shares details surrounding COVID-19 healing

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Phillip Guttmann

2020-07-30 T20: 27: 49 Z.

Phillip Guttmann.

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Phillip Guttmann is an author, producer, and licensed therapist who resides in Los Angeles. He took a trip to New York City in March and contracted COVID-19

He remembers calling his household to state his last goodbyes prior to being put in a medically caused coma for breathing failure. He likewise recalls having scary problems while in the coma for 23 days.

Guttmann is now recovering and wants to inform others on post COVID-19 signs. His body is just now recovering from stage-four bedsores, but he suffers from extreme peripheral neuropathy (pins and needles and burning discomfort).

His biggest plea to Americans is to wear masks and practice social distancing.

This article includes images that some may find stressful.

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I was on a work trip in New York City in between March 3 and March 14.

When my plane took off from LAX bound for JFK, I knew that people in Italy were dying and that a couple of cases had actually discovered their way to mainland U.S.A..

I was mindful of a cruise ship that was stranded with ill travelers somewhere off the Pacific coast.

I do not understand where I got it and I do not know how– and I’ll never ever know the minute of my transmission, the location, or the circumstances.

Walking around New York City, March2020

Phillip Guttmann.

I was in court spaces, in the train, in crowded bars and restaurants– I was on the relocation and hectic, working, seeing the news like the rest of America as things began to progress.

A number of days prior to I needed to fly back house to LA, I prepared to shelter in location and looked for a mask and gloves for my flight since things were getting scarier.

I landed in LA on Saturday, March 14, and for a minute I felt safe, as if I ‘d evaded a bullet.

But within 36 hours, I began feeling off: I was fatigued and had body pains. By Monday, my temperature level increased to 101.2 °. Naturally, I understood I had actually contracted COVID-19

I went into the ER that exact same day and was practically turned away– regardless of my fever and coughing– up until they learned I ‘d just left a plane from New York City 2 days previously.

They hurried me right inside after that, if that tells you anything about the state of NYC mid-March. (If you remember, New york city had been the center of the novel coronavirus.)

I can’t keep in mind taking the actual tests, however my flu test came back negative and medical professionals entered into my ER space to tell me that they thought I had COVID-19 My coronavirus test results can be found in positive a few days later on.

The next couple of days were a blur. I was admitted to a regular healthcare facility space and remember seeing the eerie blue Scientology building outside my health center window and getting flipped out (I personally discover the structure unsettling).

The Scientology structure beyond my hospital window.

Phillip Guttmann.

I remember a nurse delicately informing me that a great deal of his patients with COVID-19 were crashing and being put on ventilators. I asked if that would happen to me– I was frightened. He responded, “I sure hope not!”

I keep in mind the food. My first night in the health center I had missed dinner and was tossed a dry turkey-and-cheese sandwich in a plastic container. I consumed it, bland as it was, because I was in fact starving.

There was another night where they forgot to bring my supper. I was famished and among the nurses was kind sufficient to bring me a container of Chinese takeout food.

How could I be hungry when I was otherwise so sick and had no energy? However for the first couple of days I was. I remember there was pudding, Jell-O, graham crackers, and gleaming apple juice.

I remember some phone calls and sobbing in discomfort from coughing so hard.

And I noticeably keep in mind wanting to warn everybody on social media to use a mask and to be careful– though I do not in fact keep in mind taking my selfie and publishing it to Facebook.

The day prior to I was intubated at Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Facility on March 22,2020

Phillip Guttmann.

And I do not keep in mind much after the 3rd or 4th day.

I am told that I entered into respiratory failure on March 23, and I was rushed as much as the ICU where I was intubated and positioned into a medically induced coma.

I have no memory of being placed on the ventilator or the defining moments before. I have a worry of passing away young, or something going wrong and losing on this excellent present of life, so I’m grateful I do not keep in mind anything leading up to my coma.

I was informed later on by nurses and physicians that I was frightened in the minutes leading up to my intubation, due to the fact that I just knew the chances of making it through on a ventilator were slim.

I managed to call a couple of loved ones, and I bid farewell, as in, “I’m contacting us to say goodbye, I am being intubated and do not think I’m going to endure.” Having no memory of those moments has actually spared me extra suffering.

But I do remember the lots of problems I had on the ventilator while in a coma. One of my headaches was of my good friend putting me in a well and physically abusing me with electric shocks while I struggled for oxygen. This was one of perhaps 30 various headaches I experienced. It was pure hell, and the horrific nightmares still haunt me deeply.

I likewise remember the flashes of medical professionals and nurses coming in and out of my space and putting feeding tubes down my nose while commanding, “Swallow, Phillip, swallow!” I had to have my arms restrained since I was pulling the tubes out

I remember flashes of “Frasier” or morning news programs playing on the TELEVISION in my ICU system as makers beeped and alarms went off and turmoil happened all around me.

I remember being moved and prodded by medical workers, ordered to take deep breaths, and being asked to specify my name and open my eyes.

I remember having a hard time to breathe.

I remember being cold, being hot, hearing nurses recommending medical professionals what my vitals were. I keep in mind being naked and not caring (typically my worst problem), and other bits and pieces.

But I didn’t stress over passing away so much. I stressed over it a little, but I was mainly too tired and too sleepy.

I hallucinated and thought I might make phone calls by purchasing Siri to dial my good friends and household. I imagined that I was calling out, asking them to come rescue me.

No one came.

For 23 days, I was on that ventilator and in and out of that coma. For another 2 weeks after that, I was semi-lucid in the ICU, attached to machines and withstanding coronavirus test after test.

My IV was pumped with drugs while nurses cried to me about another patient on my floor passing away; they stated that they could not take anybody else dying.

I was rushed to the ICU, intubated and put in a medically induced coma.

Phillip Guttmann.

One night a tired nurse held my hand and thanked me for not passing away. He told me I was only the 2nd individual in the unit to come off the vent alive.

When they moved me to a step-down rehab hospital, the nurses and techs gathered and applauded and cried– someone they dealt with had in fact endured. It was a great day.

Among my nurses, Elisabeth, who was on loan from a health center in Chicago, reminded me about our agreement: “There is not ‘I can’t.’ There is only ‘I will try.'”

I decided then and there that I would attempt.

And I pursued 18 more days in another health center and I have actually attempted since May 19, the day I returned house.

In overall, I was hospitalized for 65 days– 39 days in the ICU and 23 days on the ventilator.

Over 2 months of my life was lost to medical facility beds, tubes, machines, and painful nightmares– all without seeing a single familiar face.

I have actually been preventing being active on social networks and connecting with individuals because being discharged from the medical facility. I required time to ponder what had taken place to me (and what had actually practically happened to me).

It’s lastly sunk in– but not totally. I’m still trying to cover my head around it, while likewise attempting to figure out what’s taking place in our nation right now. COVID-19 and systemic racism is a lot to be considering at the same time.

President Donald Trump and other political leaders have so much blood on their hands. They urge individuals to laugh at masks and reject bigotry exists. George Floyd was eliminated in my hometown, in Minneapolis. Where is the love and how did we ever get so divided, so negligent and so broken?

On the other hand, everyone lovingly asks “How are you?” and I’m not sure precisely how to respond to that concern.

An image of my trach website after my tracheotomy, an intrusive treatment where a cut is made in the windpipe to insert a tracheal tube. The procedure is for critically ill clients who need more time on a ventilator.

Phillip Guttmann.

I am remaining for a little while with among my buddies in San Francisco, since while I recuperate, I can’t be alone and require the support and aid.

I’m OKAY– not fantastic– however I’m hanging in there. These are the 3 things I actually wish to say to anybody who encounters my story.

1. Lots of people are already knowledgeable about COVID-19 symptoms, but there are post signs that individuals haven’t become aware of.

I have extreme peripheral neuropathy (tingling, weak point, and burning pain) in my hands, left forearm and parts of my toes. This took place since the nerves in my neck were compressed throughout my coma.

I had stage-four bedsores that are lastly healing well after more than 2 months of excruciating discomfort.

I am tired daily and have actually restricted energy that differs everyday– and while I can stroll 20 to 30 minutes at a time, I can’t run or lift weights like I did before.

The initial look at my heart is favorable, but I’m still waiting on a full summary from my physician. I’ll discover quickly if I sustained any damage to other crucial organs and the exact state of my minimized lung capacity and scar tissue (inside my lungs).

The way my pulmonologist has put it is that my lungs never ever be 100%of what they were, however that simply possibly they’ll get them to 90 or 95%over time: “Put it this way, I wouldn’t anticipate to run marathons once again.”

I never ran marathons before COVID-19, so perhaps that’s a repercussion I can cope with.

The list of other disorders that follows is akin to a long and winding roadway with limited presence on outcome. Frequently heard problems from members of online support groups (such as Survivor Corps on Facebook and Body Politik on Slack), consist of however are not restricted to:

fatigue and tiredness

pains and pains

chest tightness

shortness of breath (or, as is typically shortened, SOB)

2. Life is a present.

I am acutely knowledgeable about how close I came to being in the ground.

I am grateful– more than you can imagine– that God pulled me through and chose I wasn’t rather done. I’m grateful to be here to tell you that I love you and to live another day.

My circumstance came so close to going the other way. I marvel each day when I stroll in the park, by the ocean, and even when I hear the voice of my dad on the phone.

Life is still a present, even while at the exact same time it feels like the biggest challenge I have actually ever faced and causes me consistent pain.

3. The most important thing I wish to state is, please use a mask.

I can not express sufficiently how surreal it feels alone to be walking outside among the living, mixing in, “passing” for a “typical” and healthy person, however when I see individuals gathered on parks and walkways not using masks and disregarding social distancing standards, I want yell, ” Are you joke me ?? Do you really not get it ?? Do you not understand that the easy act of putting a fabric mask in between you and me can conserve a life, perhaps yours?”

I can’t comprehend why some Americans just refuse to acknowledge fundamental truths and refuse to put others. I thought we were better than that.

When I was 23, I remember enjoying in wonder as New Yorkers helped one another throughout 9/11 Numerous donated blood and plasma, and some experts drove hours to show up and volunteer to assist any place they were needed.

And while I see some traces of that throughout the pandemic, some individuals still decline to social distance and use masks. There are viral videos of people shouting in Walmart saying they decline to have their “freedoms and rights violated.”

As a COVID-19 survivor, this is overwhelming.

My physical therapist, Virginia Fung, is helping to lead Select Physical Treatment’s COVID-19 recovery program. Select Physical Treatment has numerous areas along the West Coast and is among the couple of physical treatment centers to provide a coronavirus healing program.

Christine Matsuda.

My appeal to Americans and anybody reading this (specifically to those who think wearing a mask is for the elderly, the infirm, or the weak) is to please take a look at the image of me in a coma and inform me that my life– or anyone’s life– isn’t worth what amounts such a tiny sacrifice, for a momentary time.

The director of the CDC, Robert Redfield, just recently stated he thinks we could greatly flatten COVID-19 in the United States if all Americans would dedicate to using a mask for the next four to 8 weeks. If you do the math, that means that by Labor Day we might turn this disaster around and conserve who knows the number of lives.

The photo of me in a coma this April is one that I never thought I would show anybody. I personally can’t stand to take a look at the picture because it advises me too much about the limitless nightmares I had while in the coma, and I really attempt not to consider them.

But if it will keep just one person safe, if my photo will make one individual unpleasant adequate to decide to use a mask, then sharing my image deserves it.

A selfie I took just recently.

Phillip Guttmann.

I’m also sharing a photo of myself from today due to the fact that this is also a story of healing and getting better, and I want to sign off with a bit of hope and gratitude. Take a look at me now and how far I have actually come considering that April.

And I’m almost myself once again. Not completely, but practically. That deserves something in an otherwise hard, unmatched time.

Phillip Guttmann is a writer, producer, and licensed therapist. He holds an MSW from New York City University and an MFA from The New School in New York, where he lived and worked between 2002 and2017 He moved to Los Angeles in 2017 to refocus on his composing profession and particularly television and movie writing. He has actually written three short movies that have actually won numerous awards. His last short film, “Black Hat,” evaluated at over 40 movie festivals worldwide including the Tribeca Movie Festival, the American Structure at the Cannes Movie Festival, Cinequest, British Film Institute, and more. It won grand reward in the 2019 Iris Prize. Follow him on Instagram and Facebook

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