Kathryn's Story

Houston, TX

From the time I woke up, until the time I came home, it was a nightmare. A prisoner for a month.

By the 3rd day of Remdesivir, on Monday May 31 (Memorial Day) I was put on a ventilator.

The Hospital Admission

“Can you imagine waking up feeling like you've been beat up and no one is willing to tell you what happened.”

I'm writing this letter to let you know a little bit of what I have learned since having covid back in May and June of 2021. The day before I went into the hospital, May 27, my brother died of blood clots in his heart and lungs. He got 2 shots of the Pfizer vaccine a few weeks prior to his death.


The day after my brother passed away, on May 28, 2021, I could hardly breathe. My husband, Tim, monitored my oxygen levels all day. At 5:00 pm, he insisted that I go to the hospital. I went to the ER at Methodist Hospital in Houston, Texas. The valet was closed that day, so I got out of the car and walked up to a greeter at the entrance. I told him I needed to go to the ER, but I couldn't get there on my own. I was too weak. The guy sat me in a wheelchair and took me there. About 15 minutes later, they put me in a bed at the end of the hallway in the ER. Tim parked the car and then tried to come find me. They wouldn't let him past the desk at the ER. He left my purse for them to give me , and he waved at me down the hallway. That was the last time I saw him for 25 days. This would be the last thing I could remember for the next 2 weeks.


They didn't ask Tim for the medication that I was taking at the time of admission. In fact, he had to get in touch with a social worker to even find out what was happening to me. When Tim found out I tested positive for covid he asked them to give me plasma, ivermectin, hydroxychloroquine and monoclonal antibodies, and they told him they were accessing the situation. They knew their protocol plan all along. REMDESIVIR!


I was admitted to the hospital that Friday night. During the night I tested positive for covid, and the next day I was put on Remdesivir for 5 days--May 29 to June 2. By the 3rd day of Remdesivir, on Monday May 31 (Memorial Day) I was put on a ventilator. I was on the vent for 11 days. Thank God, I don't remember any of what happened during that time! They told my husband I gave consent for the Remdesivir. From the time I woke up, until the time I came home, it was a nightmare. A prisoner for a month. They did not let my family come see me, even though my body had made antibodies by the first week. The doctors and nurses told my family they would retest me for Covid on June 17, and if I was negative, that they would allow me to see them then. That was a total lie. They also told my family I had delirium and was not in my right mind. Can you imagine waking up feeling like you've been beat up and no one is willing to tell you what happened. I was trying to put the pieces together of what happened. The last thing I remembered was going to the ER and waving to Tim. I pretty much didn’t remember anything else until June 11.


Waking To A Nightmare


I was in an induced paralytic coma and on a vent for 11 days. I awoke to a nurse asking me to wiggle my toes and squeeze her finger. I thought to myself, that's strange. Why would she ask me to do that? Dead skin was peeling off my lips like spaghetti, and my fingernails were long and yellow. My toenails were pretty and painted still. A day later the nurse asked me if I knew where I was. I knew I was in ICU but did not know why. The TV in my room was reporting about a Louisiana River Boat and the water being too low for some boats. It was the second room to the right from where the ambulance drops people off. The room I was in had 2 doors, 1 to the hallway and one under the TV. The rooms I saw outside my room consisted of the ambulance room, the big hallway where doctors and nurses meet, another hallway, and on the last side there was a long built-in couch with a view to the outside where there were crape myrtles. It was very humid in my room. I remember I was in room #24 of the ICU. I could hear a train pass and helicopters land every so often. Anyway, the nurse asked me if I knew where I was, and I answered, in the hospital.

There was a black feather duster on the camera on the ceiling. I thought it was a bat. I do not like bugs, and I was very concerned over that. Later I found out that every so often the feather duster circles the camera to keep it clean. This is mainly how the nurses watched their patients. The week I came to Methodist is the same week they had laid off all their employees that didn't get the shot. There was a 12-inch pole in the middle of my room that had lots of equipment and plugs of all kinds hanging on it. A big oxygen bottle fell off it one day, and I thought it exploded because it made such a loud noise. Also, the same day, my bed made a loud noise and I thought it was breaking with me in it. The bed was very old and rickety. The nurse responded and asked what happened. I said that I wasn't sure, but it felt like the leg broke on my bed. He said it was old and it would probably be the last time the bed would ever be used. Instead of a sheet covering me, I had a blanket. It was old and seemed to be dry rotted. My tongue accidently touched the blanket. The taste of it made me gag and spit up. I could not get rid of that foul taste for a while. I could see a nurse at the corner outside of my room that sat watching a computer to monitor, no telling how many patients, including me.


A clergy man asked if he could pray for me, and I welcomed that. After we prayed, he left me a collage of pictures of my family. He didn't come into the room, he just stood in the doorway. He hung the collage on the glass and told me I had a new grandbaby. The first time I looked at my grandbaby, it was a blurry bunch of colors. I didn't have my glasses on and the nurses may have put medicine in my eyes. My eyesight was worse than normal. I dreamed I was kidnapped and put in a hospital, and that part of my liver was removed. The hospital made me get in a capsule and told me if I was good and cooperative I would eventually get out. (This dream may have been when I was put in a prone bed. If you Google it, it does look like a capsule. I was in the prone bed for a day.)


Off The Vent

“The first thing I asked was WHAT HAPPENED?”

The first day off the vent I could hardly make a sound. I would try to speak normally, and only a whisper would come out. This is the day I got to talk to my husband from an iPad. The first thing I asked was WHAT HAPPENED? Tim said, don't worry, just do what they say. Oh my, I thought. I told Tim to come get me, that I still could die. He could not read lips and is hard of hearing, so he had to get my daughter, Jill, to help him understand what I was telling him. The next day, Jill tells him I'm asking him to come get me before they kill me. Every day after getting off the vent, I had a family iPad video visit. One day, I could see Candy (the other grandmother) in the background rocking the new grandbaby. With every breath I had I said, CANDY. She looked up from feeding the baby. I said to her WHAT HAPPENED? If this ever happens to you or your family, tell them what happened. This only made things worse trying to figure out what happened to me.


At that point, I was thinking not only did I get kidnapped, I got beat up with half my liver taken, and my ring stolen. The Xray team had just come by and taken an xray of my chest. I heard the nurses talking about someone that may have swallowed a tooth. I overheard​ one of the nurses say, "I saw the whole thing and she deserved it." Then she did a karate kick to demonstrate what she saw. As I was trying to figure out what happened, I'm thinking I must have gotten a tooth kicked out, swallowed it, and now they're seeing it on the xray. The nurses had just finished my xray, so I thought they must have been talking about me. I started running my tongue along my teeth to figure out if I had lost a tooth.

For next 24 hours I was really worried that these nurses didn't have my best interests at heart. From pure exhaustion I fell asleep and had a nightmare. I dreamed that I was on the border somewhere between Texas and Mexico in a warehouse, and that I was being held prisoner on a gurney with my hands tied to the bed. (I really was tied to the bed.) Several men dressed like nurses were there to get IV's going in my arms. I was very cooperatively trying to be still. As I was still and trying to figure out what was happening, they had my babies, Jill, Claire and Audrey held hostage along with a few other people. The police came and raided the warehouse and we escaped in a brand-new drug truck. I was driving and had my babies in the backseat and others we saved were in the back of the pickup. I'm guessing I had this dream because of all the poking and prodding I was receiving when the nurses couldn't find my veins. This in combination with the nurses talking about someone swallowing a tooth, out in the hallway. When I woke up, I saw the same mirrored light fixture in my dream and realized that it had all been a dream.


Tied Down, Starved, and Suffocated

The Doctor said “You would be surprised how good people can breathe with the plastic over their faces.”

On June 15, 2021, Sunday, I was praising the Lord singing "Because He Lives" and "Victory in Jesus". The TV show, David Jeremiah, came on and the message was about David and Goliath. It really inspired me to lean on God to give me the strength and power to overcome my weakness. At that point I was so weak. My wrists were tied to the hospital bed, and the hospital was not feeding me or letting me drink water. I was starting to shrivel up like a 80 year old lady. I was still in the ICU at this point.


It was getting very hard for the nurses to draw blood in the mornings for my daily blood draws. Usually, they would come and get about 3 tubes of blood every morning. They would start new IV's and try poking several places each day to get blood. In fact, the line in my neck was thought to have gone bad. They prepped me for a new line. They had me sit up in my bed. They draped a clear sterile plastic 2'x2' outlined with a yellow border over my head. Then, the doctors tried to start a line going from the top of my head and down through my neck. After being still and cooperating, I started having a hard time breathing. I told the doctor that I was having a hard time breathing with the plastic over my face. The doctor said "you would be surprised how good people can breathe with the plastic over their faces." Just after he said that, I think I passed out. The next thing I remember, the doctor was looking at my eyes commenting on my lashes being so straight. At this point, I think he was really checking on my pupils. The line redo in my neck was aborted and the reason they gave was they couldn't get it past a point in my neck. I think I passed out and it was canceled.


It was so hot and humid in the ICU. Having that plastic sheeting over my face didn't help either. My dimer blood numbers were up and they were desperately trying to locate clots in my arms, legs, and abdomen. The nurses had an ultrasound machine in the room for hours probing and poking me. My body was totally giving out. I needed food and water.


I had told my family that I needed food and water, and that if they didn't get up there that I might still die. Of course, they thought I had delirium because that was what the doctors had told them. I was feeling like I was in an isolated jail and things just kept getting worse. It was a total nightmare. A nurse tester had come and tested me to see if I could handle eating. I ate everything she gave me--a little graham cracker and juice. It tasted bad but I ate and drank every bit of it. The next day I asked why I still couldn't eat. They said that I failed the test and she would come back in two days. She came back 3 days after the first testing to retest. Again, I ate what she asked me to eat. While she was testing me she mentioned if I didn't pass she would have to bring a TV with camera and go down my nose and throat to my esophagus for a 3rd test. Even though I was able to eat everything both times, I told her if I didn't pass this time to bring the damn camera. I told her I was already familiar with that camera because I had it before, about a year ago--prior to a surgery I had. I have had many surgical procedures and never had been treated like this.


A nurse in the ICU named Jordan would crush my pills in some kind of applesauce and bribe me to eat them. He told me it was Tylenol and a sleeping pill. I told him the sleeping pill didn't work because I had been awake for days. You know the fight or flight thing? I was in fight mode with no family there to help me. Remember, I'm still in quarantine at this time. Nurses would put on full PPE before coming into my room. They would not come in as often because they had to gear up. They would wait till several things needed to be done before gearing up. Nurse Jordan told me one night that if I took my meds that I would be able to get out of ICU. I gladly took them because I was ready to get to see my family. I was seeing them once a day on a group video call. That was it. At about 1:00 am that morning, I was wheeled out of ICU and brought to the 10th floor in IMU. It wasn't even a room. I was at the end of the hall with the elevators not even 20 feet from my bed. I was looking around to see if there were any bugs on the ceiling or anything like that. My last room was big and spacious. This was so depressing that I got my phone out to take a picture. Little did I know I was taping live on Facebook.


I Was Allowed to Eat


The nurse I met in IMU was a guy named Gabriel. He had the best looking black hair I had ever seen. He said that after he got off work he was going to go to the barber for a haircut. This got me thinking about my hair. My hair hadn't even been brushed, much less washed, in over three weeks by this time. I thought to myself, if I could just get to the beauty shop and have a wash, cut, blow-dry and a pedicure I would feel so much better. Nurse Gabe told me if the doctors would release me, he would be the first to wheelchair me all the way to the car. I got so excited about the thought of getting out of there, I called my daughter Megan, who was working just around the block at 4:00 am in the morning. I called her letting her know if Gabe can get the doctors to release me, I wanted her to come straight from work and pick me up. I think I called her about 4 times that night trying to get it all set up. I look back and can see Gabe was passing time telling me what I wanted to hear--getting my hopes up high, just to let me down. I called my brother, Jimbo, Keely, Clinton, Margie, my sisters and anybody else I thought would help me. I even called and told Tim if he couldn't come get me I was lining out Megan to come get me on her way home from work. By that next morning, I realized that Gabe was just telling me what I wanted to hear to get through his night shift. He was a really nice nurse and told me he graduated from Houston Baptist University, and that his mom and dad were both nurses too. He really was the King of Elvis hair.


The next morning I was so disappointed, hungry, thirsty and down right angry. They had moved me to another glass room where I could see nurses and doctors right outside my room. The first thing that morning a doctor came walking into my room. I let the wrath begin. I told that doctor if you don't feed and water the patient you're not getting any more blood. I was fed up. I said it boldly and loud in pure anger. I had finally gotten my voice back. I think he got scared because he just turned around and walked out. I didn't see him the rest of the day. After that I called my sisters: Jan, Laurie and Maribeth on a video group call. The lady patient in the room next door was screaming. In the group call I told them what was going on and that I needed help and please tell me WHAT SHOULD I DO. My sister, Maribeth, said I should call 911. She also suggested calling the hospital administrator, Dr. Bloom. I didn't know what to do. In this room as the sun came shining through the window, every time the A/C came on I could see this white dust pouring out of the vent just above me. I think the A/C needed new filters. When I saw that white stuff in the air, I wanted to mask up. I had a cannula of oxygen on my nose across my face.


Later that day, about 2:00 pm, the tester lady came into my room with a big old TV, a nose camera, a big glass of Gatorate and another little graham cracker. I got all excited. My eyes lit up when I saw that Gatorade. That was just what I needed. ELECTROLYTES! The tester stuck that camera down my nose to my esophagus, and we started test 3. She said "eat the cracker and drink the blue drink while I watch on the camera." I started just as the 2 times before. The blue stuff tasted like toilet water and the cracker was stale but I ate and drank the whole nasty thing. Well, she must have passed me this time because that night I got my first meal. This was probably the 17th or 18th of June. After getting some food, I started paying attention to the pills they were giving me, and realized they weren't giving me my thyroid pill. I asked them why I wasn't getting it. The doctors said they would check TSH levels. My TSH levels were 21.9 ( mormal is 4 or below). By this time, my muscles were cramping from lack of thyroid meds. I asked for some Tylenol, and they gave me some.


Coming Out of Quarantine

“ I knew they had lied to me about retesting for covid on the 17th and putting me back in quarantine.”

I was told I was going to be off the quarantine that day. Later that evening a nurse by the name of Tammy came and told me since I asked for Tylenol, and the orders were only to give Tylenol for fever, that they had to log it as fever. Tammy told me I would have to go back into quarantine for another 48 hours. By this time I was pissed. I knew they had lied to me about retesting for covid on the 17th and putting me back in quarantine for asking for pain meds for my legs. I saw a poster in my room that said I could refuse any treatment and decided that was just what I was going to do. I told them since they were going to put me back in quarantine, I was going to start refusing meds, treatment and food till they stopped the quarantine bullshit.

I started googling every pill they gave. I refused them and stopped eating food. It was like I was fasting for a cause, just drinking water and taking only medicine that I knew--like diabetic and thyroid meds. That's it. I stopped taking Lasix, Seroquel and blood clotting meds. My family was really worried about me after hearing this, because they still weren't allowed to see me. Doctors came by and begged me to start taking meds, and blamed the administration for what had happened. I stood my ground though, and told them when I get off quarantine then I may start cooperating. In those two days I started feeling better. I started getting my thyroid meds every morning. From this point on, my goal was to get the hell out of their hospital. This was a jail. I stopped telling nurses about any pain I was having from that point on. I had a busted blister on my wrist from being tied to the bed. I had headaches from time to time. My right pinky and right foot keep feeling like pins and needles. My goal was to keep my mouth shut and not complain so I could get the hell out of there. Two days later, I came out of quarantine. By this time the new rules for visiting were 2 visitors per day. By the second day it had changed to 1 visitor per day. The administrator was changing rules by the day. In fact, he needed to be slapped upside the head in my opinion. Dr. Bloom was obviously making decisions on making the hospital the most money and not what was in the best interest of the patient.


I finally got out of quarantine and into a regular room. By this time I've been laid up so long that I couldn't sit up by myself. The PT came by and helped me walk down the hallway. I had no energy, and my heart rate would rise to 150, so they didn't want to mess with me for too long. My sisters, Jan and Maribeth, came the day before the new rule took effect and brushed my hair out and gave me my first shower there at the hospital. It took Maribeth 3 hours to get the knots out of my hair just so I could get it washed. My hair length was about 5 inches past my shoulders. After my shower they blow dried my hair and this bad stench smell came out of my head. This stench lasted about a month and then my hair started falling out. It fell out for 2 months before it stopped. (I had lost about 2/3 of my hair by October.) I wanted to go home so bad because laying in that bed all day with no help was doing nothing for me. I knew I would get better help at home with my family there. The hospital would not release me, but said they would send me to a rehab. The last weekend of the month of June they moved me to a rehab.


Rehab And Going Home


The rehab was a total joke. My husband had to bring me an oxygen hose just so it could reach the toilet. All the rehab had was one that was 3 feet long. That meant I was confined to a small area. There were no chairs in my room either. I couldn't even change it up and go from the bed to the chair. A wound care team came to look at my wrist, and gave me some medicine and bandages to put on it. My husband also bought a shower hose and installed it. I had to request a shower chair, to be able to take a shower. I think that place was haunted because every 30 minutes it would sound like someone knocking on my door. It was nobody. This was the same week the building in Florida collapsed. I also thought that if it wasn't haunted, then it may have been the building getting old and on the verge of falling. That place was filthy, with blood splatter on the ceiling. The base boards were dusty, and the A/C filter was above my bed with a thick layer of dirt covering it. It was nasty! I did everything I was told, with no complaints, to get out of that rehab jail as fast as I could. They tried to delay as much as they could. But I called the social worker at Methodist and got the ball rolling to get out.


I called my son and told him that I thought they were trying their best to keep me, and would he please come to help me. My son is an engineer and he had to cancel his meetings that day. He came up there to bring me home. They still had a sign on my door that I was in quarantine. The oxygen that I needed to go home was all we were waiting on. The oxygen finally got there about noon that day, but they said they couldn't bring it to me because I was labeled quarantine. David went down, met the oxygen company, and got the oxygen I needed to leave.


The nurse that was going to wheelchair me to the car took off for lunch. We were waiting for her to finish lunch so we could leave. The OPT came in about 3:00 pm that day to see why we hadn't left yet. I told her we were waiting for my nurse to wheelchair me to the car. The OPT, a dear lady, said she would get a wheelchair and wheel me out there. Look at my son's (David Wood) Facebook page on July 8, 2021. The chair I was sitting in I stole from another room. I spotted it on my PT walk. It's a picture of me getting out of Covid Jail from Hell!!!


After getting home I started getting better. I exercised on a stationary bike, doing the breathing exercise machine during commercials 10 times in a row. I started leaving the oxygen off after activities, if I could recover to an oxygen level of 92 within 2 minutes. In 2 weeks after getting home I was able to be free from the extra oxygen machine.


On September 15, I saw my endocrinologist to get my medicine refills. I mentioned the people in my family that got covid took hydroxychloroquine, ivermectin, plasma, monoclonal antibodies, and got better. I told Dr. Cubb that the hospital did not treat me right. Instead of asking what they did wrong, she screamed out that Ivermectin is horse medicine. I told her, well, my daughter-in-law got it from a real doctor and picked it up at a real pharmacy. Then she ended the appointment and sent me a certified letter saying she was not going to be my doctor anymore. She said to find someone else. I did.


697 views

Any use of protocolkills.com- including implementation of any suggestions or stories on the site and/or use of any resources available on protocolkills.com does not create a professional relationship between that entity and protocolkills.com or any of it’s professionals.

All content on this site and corresponding blog is for informational purposes only.  All stories and imagery published were granted permission by the author. All other unaffiliated sites must get explicit permission from the authors themselves to republish.

created by Greta Crawford