As requested by a number of our social media followers, here is the full text posted to our Instagram stories on April 12, 2020.
My COVID experiencE
40 TRIBES FOUNDER/DIRECTOR’S ACCOUNT OF HIS PERSONAL EXPERIENCE WITH COVID-19
DAY ONE
MARCH 17
We had returned the night before from two weeks in Costa Rica (yes, a contributor to this perfect storm). We were awakened by our 2.5-year-old son coughing and crying in the early morning hours. By normal waking hours he was on the couch with a low grade fever, which ultimately passed pretty quickly. By 9:30am or so I began to feel feverish. Nothing crazy—100-101—but I was soon laid out on the couch with classic body aches and chills. My wife became feverish by midday. By evening I just couldn't hang any longer and was in bed by 7:30ish.
DAYS TWO-FOUR
MARCH 18-20
Daytime was bearable. Nighttime was miserable. Always been a solid sleeper but just couldn't sleep, mostly due to restless/achy legs. Ibuprofen was the only thing that seemed to help—that is, until we read that it was advised against taking NSAIDs for COVID, which we suspected by this point. A dry cough developed and was mostly induced by activity—ie sitting or standing up, walking down and up our stairs, walking around. Shortness of breath became quite noticeable, and was exacerbated by any amount of activity. "Sleeping" on my side was no longer possible. I had night sweats.
DAYS TWO-FOUR CONT'D
MARCH 18-20
Any activity (again, we're talking sitting up from a reclined position) would lead to coughing fits that became extremely aggressive. Catching my breath and calming myself down would take as long as 10 minutes. It became so bad that I had to start using pee bottles at night so as to avoid going down and up a single flight of stairs. First call to the Dr was placed at ~4:30am the night of the 20th. Was prescribed Tessalon Perles and recommended to take a narcotic cough syrup by a nurse, but the cough syrup was denied prescription by my doctor. Was told to monitor symptoms and stay home.
DAY FIVE
MARCH 21
As was the case, daytime was manageable—and actually, on this particular day the whole damn fam felt pretty "good," comparatively. Things degraded quickly by 5pm or so for both my wife and I, at almost the exact same time. I felt the leg aches come on strong and was soon under blankets on the couch in front of the woodstove. "This is going to be another shitty night's sleep," I remember saying to my wife. Coughing fits and shortness of breath intensified and by 7pm or so, as did the aches/chills. I jumped into a hot shower as my wife put a follow up call in to the doctor. We were again told not to go to the hospital if we could manage symptoms at all.
DAY FIVE CONT'D
MARCH 21
Fortunately, both kids had gone down easily. By this point I was significantly worse than my wife, but my wife was bad too. Talking on the phone was difficult. After the shower I was back on the couch, under blankets, in a prone position to help with my breathing. By 8pm or so I just couldn't recover from my aggressive coughing fits. I couldn't catch my breath. My wife called our neighbors and—very slowly—asked if they knew anyone in our mountain community with an Albuterol inhaler. In less than 10 minutes, an inhaler was dropped on our porch. I began using it. It saved me. I could breathe again. I had to get down off the mountain.
DAY FIVE CONT'D
MARCH 21
With both kids asleep, we decided I would go down on my own. Drive time is normally 35 minutes but in the days prior it had dumped a couple of feet. Roads were bad. Truck was buried. I took the inhaler, Tylenol, a Buff, and gloves from the 40 Tribes Kyrgyzstan med kit. Didn't totally know where I was headed, but probably to a vacant friend's house. By this point we had been told not to go to the hospital so many times we didn't think I needed to go to the hospital...which, knowing what we know now, I absolutely did.
DAY FIVE CONT'D
MARCH 21
The drive down was slow, for a variety of reasons. In my out of it state I drove with the e-brake on for a good 5-10 minutes. The 20+ inches of snow on top of my truck slid down onto my windshield. Getting out of the truck and clearing it was a monumental task. Eventually I made it down and to our friend's house. The descent (3000 feet elevation) was relieving...I think. Couldn't totally tell if I could breathe better or not. Almost immediately, one of my wife's colleagues from the local birth center arrived with oxygen and a pulse ox. I thought she'd just drop it outside but she was masked and gloved and came in to get me set up.
DAY FIVE CONT'D
MARCH 21
Initial blood oxygen (SpO2) reading was 78. Probably—most likely—this had been significantly lower earlier and in the days prior up at our house. Hypoxic. Not enough oxygen getting carried through the bloodstream to sustain organs and vital tissues. SpO2 improved quickly with the oxygen set on 8L...then turned down to 6. My brother had driven up from Denver, just to be outside in case things worsened. By midnight, I was feeling OK. Oxygen was key. Aggressive coughing fits continued, but I could breathe. By 12:30am or so I told my brother he could go home. I slept (finally) from about 1am-6am. Oxygen ran out at some point overnight. SpO2 was in the mid to high 80s when I checked in the morning.
DAY SIX
MARCH 22
We decided we had to get everyone down from elevation. Bummer thing was that I had the car seats in my truck. My wife managed to pack "everything" we'd need, all food, the kids and we met in Jamestown—halfway down. By midday we were all safe and down off the mountain and I started an online chat with a Dr, as the wait for phone appointments was becoming insanely long. I explained what had happened in the previous 24 hrs and, for the first time—without any hesitation—she said I needed to go to the ER. But as was the case, it was daytime and I was feeling OK. She insisted that I go.
DAY SIX CONT'D
MARCH 22
Gotta say, that walk into the ER—"masked" with a Buff and gloved—is something I'll never forget. So strange. As expected, I was put on O2, an IV and had blood drawn. It was daytime and I felt OK, which made sitting in the ER that much weirder. Lots of questions about my recent travels (Costa Rica first two weeks of Mar, France in early Feb, Kyrgyzstan before that and Siberia in Dec). Lots of waiting. Lots of alien-looking protective headpieces. ER doc eventually explained he was considering the possibility of some underlying condition based on my travels and travel history. Possibly tuberculosis? Or pulmonary embolism?
DAY SIX CONT'D
MARCH 22
For a second, those possibilities seemed logical and interesting. But also knew it would just be WAY too much of a coincidence for this to be something other than COVID-19. Next thing I knew I was being wheeled down the hospital hallways for a CT scan. After lots more waiting the results were in: CT scan showed faint "groundglass opacities" on the lungs...commonly seen in COVID cases. Bloodwork was "interesting"—some of it normal, some of it showing warning signs of a worsening condition. Not the flu. Not TB. No blood clot in the lungs. Presumed COVID-19, but due to a shortage of tests I could not be tested.
DAY SIX CONT'D
MARCH 22
For a little while there was talk of admitting me, but that was eventually—and thankfully—decided against. The reasons were good: Space in area hospitals was limited and being reserved for severe to critical cases; I am young, healthy and capable; My wife is a nurse; We had access to a pulse ox to monitor levels on our own. So I was released. Sent "home" untested, with an O2 tank, tubes up my nose and an antibiotic prescrip just in case of bacterial pneumonia. After not coughing much during the entire visit, I was hit with a classic aggressive fit the second I stood up to get dressed. That night an oxygen concentrator and 4 tanks were delivered to our temporary home.
DAYS SEVEN-TEN
MARCH 23-26
O2 tubes up my nose to pass the days, like a chain smoking emphysemic. Doing OK on 2L. Still not able to sleep on my side, but I'm sleeping. Sleep is good for healing. So is the 3000' foot drop in elevation. On the 26th I start experimenting being off O2 during the day, and do pretty well, with SpO2 in the low 90s. But without fail this drops into the 80s towards the end of each day and I get back on the concentrator to get through the night. Coughing fits have mostly subsided.
DAY ELEVEN
MARCH 27
Off O2 again starting in the morning. We are all feeling pretty good, comparatively, and are anxious to get back home. We plan to go early in the day in case we need to come back down, but we don't get packed up and out the door until midday. We make it home. It's snowing outside. Feels so. Damn. Good. My wife's saturation numbers are decent—in the 90s—but I'm in the high 80s. Since we have it, and as expected having made the jump back up in elevation, I get back on the concentrator at 2L. Kids go down and I'm able to cook a proper dinner for my wife and I. Everything pretty much seems normal other than the tubes up my nose...
DAY ELEVEN CONT'D
MARCH 27
Only a couple of hours after lying down for the night our 2.5-year-old begins coughing. My wife goes down to check on him and comes back up to say he seems incredibly short of breath. She's short of breath and flustered—both because of the stairs and out of worry for our son. She grabs the pulse ox and gets an initial reading on herself in the high 60s. Frightening low. In seconds we decide she's gotta go back down and should take our son with her. At that point, I'm OK—a little bit achy in the legs but feeling like I can make it through with the O2. Our 11-month-old daughter, who has been completely fine/asymptomatic through all of this, is zonked. She'll stay with me.
DAY ELEVEN CONT'D
MARCH 27
After my wife and son leave I'm unable to fall back asleep and go downhill quickly. Legs ache. With the concentrator downstairs, I decide to move down to the couch just so I can be closer to it to adjust if needed. The trip downstairs absolutely kills me. From about 12:30-2am I'm wide awake and pretty much reeling on the couch. The ceiling fan, which was circulating heat from the woodstove earlier in the night, is spinning and it's cold, but I can't bear to get up to turn it off. Eventually I do, and while up I turn my O2 up to 3L. That also wrecks me. Just gotta make it through the night...
DAYS ELEVEN-TWELVE
MARCH 27-28
Between 2-5am I manage to get a tiny bit of sleep. At 5am I send a text to my wife to say "I gotta get down." SpO2 is in the 80s at 3L. I crank it up to the max, 5L. It takes me literally an hour and a half to pack a couple of bags and shuttle the essentials like the car seat and concentrator and O2 tanks out to the truck. It's snowing and blowing. Still dark and freezing cold. I'm having a really hard time breathing. At first I try to stay hooked up to the concentrator which has a couple hundred feet of tubing, but it barely reaches to the truck. I switch to one of the portable tanks to keep loading up...
DAYS ELEVEN-TWELVE CONT'D
MARCH 27-28
By some miracle I'm rolling down our driveway, portable oxygen in my passenger seat and cranking, and 11-month-old eating a banana in her car seat by about 6:45am. Whaddya know...the trip up the mountain was a big step backwards in our recovery. Like a big step backwards. Down low again, I can definitely breathe easier, but my lungs HURT.
DAY TWELVE CONT'D
MARCH 28
After reporting what had happened to my Dr, I'm finally "approved" for a COVID-19 test for later that day. The testing facility is a makeshift tent hospital outside of the medical facility. Crazy times.
DAYS THIRTEEN-NINETEEN
MARCH 29-APRIL 4
Obviously, we're staying low. Dr agrees. I'm on the O2 again for the first couple of days and nights, but transition to nights only. We find an airbnb that's willing to take us in. The first night in our new house—April 1—is my first night off oxygen in one and a half weeks.
DAY TWENTY
APRIL 5
8 days after it was administered, my test comes back negative and is shortly thereafter followed up by a message from the doctor saying she believes it's a false negative—probably ordered too late. By this point I'm feeling much better anyway. Finally I can "breathe through" the pain of a yawn. Still can't take a deep breath, but whereas I used to have to stop myself from yawning due to pain in the lungs I can now power through. Little victories.
DAY TWENTY THREE
APRIL 8
In the sidestream media, testimonials from doctors on the frontlines in Italy and NYC suggest that many COVID cases are presenting and needing to be treated more like a severe altitude illness like HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema) than ARDS (Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome). See here, here, here, and here, for example. Finally, "COVID-19" and "altitude" appear together in the same article—even sentence—and we finally feel like we're not just crazy. While my lungs were crushed, the bigger problem was an overall lack of oxygen in the bloodstream. Without hesitation we decide to stay low for another week.
DAYS TWENTY FOUR-TWENTY SEVEN
APRIL 9-12
It's been nearly one month and I'm finally feeling better and better. By day 24 or so I can take a deep breath. Sp02 in the mid 90s—naturally. THANK THE FUCKING LORD. On Apr 15, literally 30 days since symptom onset, we believe we will finally be ready to head home.
THE SAGA CONTINUES
DAY THIRTY ONE
APRIL 16
We wake up in our own bed for the first time in a month. We did it. We’re home, and we actually slept well. It’s dumping snow again—probably close to 16” overnight and another 7-11” anticipated through the day. Classic Colorado spring storm. The kiddos are happy to be home and my son is fired up to help me plow the driveway. We have one of longest, steepest driveways in our mountain community, so plowing is no easy task. With this much new snow overnight and snow from the last storm underneath, it takes a couple of hours. I feel remarkably good—even able to hike up from the bottom of the driveway to grab the shovel and dig myself out after getting stuck. Around midday the job is done. Epic. I’m excited to get inside and warm up next to the fire.
DAY THIRTY ONE CONT’D
APRIL 16
I open the door and my wife looks at me and says “We have a problem.” Our son is coughing and under a blanket on the couch, waiting for me to come inside to tuck him in for a nap. My wife says she’s nauseous and again having a hard time breathing. By this point we had been home ~24hrs. She says she might need to hook up to the oxygen. We kill the fire and open doors and windows. It’s quite cold outside, and now getting cold inside. We decide that she, and we, should go down. Our son is sleeping and no longer coughing. She’ll go first with our (now) 1-year-old, I’ll stay and pack…again. After plowing all morning, clearing both of our cars, and now running around packing and shuttling bags out to my truck, I’ve completely overexerted myself. I start to go downhill quickly. Breathing problems, body aches—here we go again. I wake my son from a deep sleep at ~1:45pm and we leave. Had I not plowed we literally wouldn’t have been able to get down.
DAY THIRTY ONE CONT’D
APRIL 16
My wife says the drop in elevation has helped. The roads are a mess, and while driving I’m feeling faint. With the portable O2 still in my front seat, I hook up at 4L. It’s a 50-minute drive back to the Airbnb. The owner has graciously opened it back up to us and this time says there’s no need to pay. We can stay until the 29th, if needed. Upon reaching the house, I can tell I’ve again gone backwards in my recovery. SpO2 is in the 80s and I need 3-4L O2 to get into the 90s. Thankfully my wife’s and son’s levels are fine. I’m pretty much back to where I was on Days Seven-Ten, and almost worse. My leg aches are back and my wife says she’s also feeling them pretty intensely for the first time. For the first time at lower elevation I can tell I’m not going to be able to sleep…
DAY THIRTY NINE
APRIL 24
The saga continues…to continue. For an additional 4-5 days I require oxygen. It’s literally like I’m back in week two of this madness. My wife and son are slower than before to recover with elevation drop, but faster than me. Our 1-year-old daughter—thankfully—continues to be fine. What in the WORLD happened physiologically while we were up at our house to cause this regression? Our best guess is a red blood cell count that wasn’t yet fully replenished, and thus a return to frightening low sat levels and damage done again. Why is the elevation drop less effective/less of a relief this time than it was before? Possibly because we had been living in the “lowlands” for 3 weeks by this point? Unfortunately, we just can’t get the answers we’re looking for from anyone. The only thing that’s certain is that we’re in this for way longer than we ever first thought. For how long, we don’t really know. Where do we go?…we also don’t really know. The only possibility we can think of is another Airbnb. And so, with some much-needed financial help from relatives, on April 24, we move once again. 4 more weeks down low is what we need, right? Again, a question that no one can answer. It’s a nice space in a nice neighborhood—exactly what we need to feel inspired and not completely depressed with our current reality, and to heal. I’m off oxygen, but still feeling a scary burning sensation when I breathe deeply. My doctor says that’s reassuring, and “classic” COVID—not indicative of a potential clotting issue. Not normally how I’d like to feel or what I’d like to hear, but I’ll take it. Once again it feels like I and we are all on an upward trajectory…
PEELING BACK THE LAYERS
JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT COULDN’T GET ANY WEIRDER…
FEBRUARY
Knowing what we know now, I believe there’s a very good chance that we or at least I was infected back in February. My travels for 40 Tribes this year took me to Russia in December, Kyrgyzstan in January, and France in early February. For the France trip I traveled Bishkek-Istanbul-Geneva on Jan 31 and then Geneva-Istanbul-New York-Denver on Feb 11. At some point during the second half of Feb, I developed symptoms similar to what I’ve been dealing with for the past month: Night sweats, trouble sleeping, shortness of breath, and I recall at least one night where I had a pretty aggressive coughing fit. At the time, the thought of actually having COVID crossed my mind, but barely. I “joked” about it with friends. This was before the pandemic. Well before what we all know now. Of course since then, experts are saying they believe most COVID cases in New York are linked to Europe, not China, and that the virus was likely in New York by the middle of February. And Europe before then. Gotta say where we were in France was not all that far from Northern Italy—another hot spot.
But by the end of February, the strange symptoms I had been experiencing had more or less disappeared. There was still a little bit of tightness in my chest, which my wife felt too. Our children were fine and showing no symptoms. None of us ever felt feverish, and at the time, fever really seemed to be the biggest warning sign for COVID infection. In China, they were taking peoples’ temperatures before entering public places. And for take-out food, the person who prepared the food had to write their name and temperature on the order. And so, we didn’t think we had COVID. We had a trip planned for the first two weeks of March to Costa Rica, and feeling only a slight bit of tightness in our chests, we went. We felt great the entire time we were there. Like really, really great. That is, until the day after we returned home, which brings us back to the start of the story above.
So now the questions we are obviously asking ourselves are:
Did we have it then?
Did we make a bad call to go?
Did we potentially infect others during our travels and contribute to the pandemic?
If infected, is it really possible that our symptoms were just suppressed by the warmth/humidity and drop to sea level?
Did the weeks spent at sea level contribute to the “perfect storm” for our lungs/systems and thus the intensity of symptoms we experienced after returning home?
Like with so many things related to this crazy disease…
…who knows.