I’ve thought a lot after being on ventilator for COVID-19
“Representative open your eyes?”
I struggled to comply. When I finally did, I found myself in a situation no one ever wants to be.
Yet a few days ago, that’s exactly where I was, waking up to the voices of my doctors in the intensive care unit of Johns Hopkins Hospital, telling me I had been on a ventilator and heavily sedated for four days.
Disoriented and exhausted, I could have sworn I was with my family on a visit to my daughter in Washington, D.C., just 10 minutes prior. My mind swirled as my doctor asked me THE question.
“Can you tell me your name?” Of course, I thought, my name is ... It’s ...
For more than a minute I struggled to remember my name. To remember who I was.
Sierra,
can
you
My wife, Rhonda Cagle, and I are some of the more than 8 million Americans who have contracted COVID-19. My wife’s symptoms were relatively mild, requiring only a 10hour visit to an emergency room.
But had it not been for the amazing medical team at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, I would have been one of the more than 220,000 Americans who have died from COVID-19.
We contracted COVID-19 while away from home, visiting our daughter. We took every precaution before and during our travels to stay healthy: wearing N95 masks, using hand sanitizer and practicing social distancing. But even with those precautions, we somehow contracted COVID-19.
A week later, my oxygen level dropped dangerously low. My family rushed me to the emergency room at Sibley Memorial Hospital in Washington, D.C.
A few hours later I was FaceTiming my wife before being intubated and placed on a ventilator.
“I’m scared, but I’m going to fight like hell to come back to you,” I promised her.
Without hesitating, Rhonda told me she would hold me to my promise.
Less than six hours later, my wife received a call from my doctor offering to air-evacuate me to Johns Hopkins Hospital for a higher level of care.
She said yes.
The next day, Rhonda said yes again when my doctors asked for her consent to give me an experimental dosage of convalescent plasma, in addition to the dexamethasone and remdesivir I received.
I know I’m lucky. Grateful to be alive and discharged from the hospital. Thankful for the skill and compassion of my medical team. Without them, and the prayers of so many, I would not have been able to keep the promise I made to Rhonda.
As I continue to convalesce, I’m thinking a lot about what is required to make and keep promises.
When I was sworn in as a state representative, I took an oath to defend the Constitution and serve the people of Arizona. That promise is predicated on the unspoken belief in the Golden Rule; doing for others what I would want done for me. It’s also based upon a bedrock of truth established by facts, data and science.
We now live in a time when facts are subjective. We argue about the science of wearing masks and practicing physical distancing. Too many place more value on their misguided personal beliefs than the well-being of our neighbors.
It’s time we call that nonsense what it is. Selfish. Self-centered. Narcissistic.
How about we make a promise to each other? How about we decide the life of our neighbor is worth more than the right to buck science and refuse to wear a mask in public? And, how about we decide to elect leaders willing to make that same promise?
From my own experience, I can say my life – and, quite possibly, yours – depends on it.