COVID-19 Stole a Beautiful Wife, Mother, Sister, and Grandmother in the Cruelest Way Imaginable
Today my wife Joanne’s beloved mother, Andrea Bullen, died from COVID-19. She was a loving soul, ever optimistic, always looking for the bright side of life. She was not merely another COVID-19 statistic. She was a beautiful light in this world, with a family who dearly loved her. Andrea had Parkinson’s Disease, and was wheelchair-bound, but soldiered through it each day with the help of her tireless and devoted husband Mike — Joanne’s stepfather.
Friday we learned that Andrea had been taken by ambulance to A&E (a.k.a. emergency room) at Good Hope Hospital in Birmingham, UK with probable pneumonia. Saturday it was confirmed as COVID-19. We don’t know how she contracted it, as no contact tracing has yet been attempted.
We immediately began planning an emergency trip. With the UK in shutdown, there were no hotels or Airbnbs to stay in, and social distancing prohibited a stay with family or friends. Joanne posted a plea for help to a COVID-19 support group in Tamworth, and through the compassionate kindness of a stranger named Jason, was offered free use of his caravan (a.k.a. camper van) where she could safely self-isolate within walking distance of the hospital.
Late Sunday night we learned that Andrea had “crashed” in the medical sense, and on Monday morning Joanne’s sister Julia bravely entered that COVID-19 ward, wearing nothing but an N95 mask and gloves. Julia was allowed to spend a final 30 minutes with her mother. During Julia’s visit, Joanne and I were able to have our first conversation with Andrea via video call. Then the staff instructed Julia to leave, and she never saw her mother alive again.
Immediately after that visit, Julia spoke with the doctor, with Joanne and I present via video. I asked the doctor how much oxygen Andrea was on, and was told 15 liters per minute, which is an astoundingly high volume. The last we had been told had been 6 liters per minute. I asked whether Andrea was being provided with any of the experimental antivirals (e.g Remdesivir), and was informed that she was not eligible for any trials, and would not be offered any of these critical lifesaving drugs. I pushed that request a second time, and was again given a firm ‘no’. The doctor had no plans to place Andrea in the prone position to relieve the stress on her lungs either, because she thought Andrea might find it uncomfortable. Basically, the doctor acknowledged that they had already given up on Andrea, and were only willing to administer antibiotics, morphine, and oxygen until she died. I will never forget the shattered look on my wife’s face at that moment. We never slept that night, and Julia and her partner John went home to self-isolate for the next two weeks because of Julia’s exposure in the COVID-19 hospital ward.
On Monday we focused on getting Joanne onto a plane to the UK. My wife insisted that I remain at home in Atlanta to care for our daughter and our dogs. That afternoon she boarded an overnight flight, and landed in Birmingham this morning (Tuesday) after a brief layover in Amsterdam. For a second night, Joanne had not slept.
Joanne went directly to the hospital from the airport. Julia had arranged for Joanne to visit Andrea. Knowing the risks, Joanne donned an N95 mask, gloves, and a surgical apron, and bravely exposed herself to the elevated viral concentration in the COVID-19 hospital ward for three hours, so she could sit with her mum to say their final goodbyes.
It was simultaneously a priceless and brutal experience. Joanne held Andrea’s hands, wiped her brow and neck, and sang a song to her that her mum used to sing to Joanne when she was a little girl — ‘Take Good Care of my Baby’ by Bobby Lee. Joanne was not sure if Andrea knew she was there or not, because Andrea was delirious, scared, and in pain. Later when Joanne told me about her visit, I reflected that no mother should ever have to plead with a helpless daughter for assistance where none exists, and no daughter should ever have to console a frightened mother, and lovingly persuade her to let her life slip away into oblivion, knowing it’s the only way to escape the agony.
The hospital staff eventually made Joanne leave, and like her sister’s visit the day before, Joanne would never again see her mother alive. A short while later, Julia called Joanne to say that the hospital had informed her that their mum had just died. Andrea had been waiting for Joanne to arrive, knowing that her loving daughter would assist her onwards in her solitary journey.
Now Joanne must mourn her mother while enduring self-isolation alone for the next 2 weeks, an ocean away from our home with our daughter and our dogs. We are desperately hoping she doesn’t become symptomatic herself in the meantime.
While far better than wearing nothing, N95 masks are neither sealed nor airtight. They are truly minimal protection in the face of an incredibly contagious airborne virus like COVID-19. The air within the COVID-19 hospital ward was filled with floating virus, which would have contacted every part of Joanne’s body. When she breathed in, the virus went right around the edges of her N95 mask. When I found out she had gone in that environment today, I was terrified for her.
Nonetheless, in retrospect I find myself in awe of my wife. My brave wife was nothing short of heroic today, lovingly caring for her mother in that deadly environment, but the tortured experience extracted a price that was evident when we spoke by video thereafter.
On the worst day of her life, Joanne said her final goodbye to her mother in the same hospital in which she had said her first hello. COVID-19 stole a beautiful wife, mother, sister, and grandmother in the cruelest way imaginable. It is not a disease to be underestimated or diminished as merely ‘another flu’. It is ‘novel’, leaving our immune systems ill-equipped to fight it, and aspirations of ‘herd immunity’ a delusional folly. COVID-19 is death.
Andrea was a good, kind, and generous person whom we miss dearly, but we hold her closely in our hearts, knowing that she would smile and tell us not to worry about her as she ventures forth on her final journey. Goodbye, sweet lady.
Chris Benson
Tuesday, June 2nd, 2020
