Personal experience: how my mother escaped from the covid-19

It just turned out to be convenient - to restrict the rights of the older generation and not to spend medical and social resources on the “waste material”.

People, no matter how old they are, want to live, and relatives and friends need them. The personal story of our colleague, journalist Boris Yunanov, tells about how the fight against the virus becomes the meaning of the life of the whole family, about the happiness of finding caring doctors, about the courage and will of his 80-year-old mother, who, in spite of the “inevitable circumstances”, emerged victorious from the battle with the virus.

...I still cannot understand where and when my mother could pick up this rubbish. She steadfastly withstood home quarantine - April and May. Most likely, the infection entered her in early June - when Mayor Sobyanin allowed pensioners to take these first walks - "to breathe freely, every other day." Then, in the hospital, many people said to my mother: "It's all an elevator. You didn't need to get out of the apartment right away - and into the elevator. There is all this infection in the elevator - go in, press the button down, and all this infection immediately settles on you from above." Probably, my mother made the mistake of many Moscow pensioners - she put on a mask when going out into the street, and not immediately - leaving the apartment, as clever Ancha Baranova bequeathed to us. Although a mask is hardly enough here. It would be better to spray inside thoroughly with sanitizer before entering the elevator. (which I personally do by the way and still do). On the night of June 11, my mother felt bad - acute pain in her left side. An ambulance arrived, injected an anesthetic injection. Just in case, we measured the oxygen level in the blood - 98, the norm. We left. In the morning - another attack. Unbearable pain. The ambulance came again. The doctor suggested: Renal colic - let's take it to the hospital, ready? Take it, you have no strength to endure it - my mother answered. We were taken to the 20th city hospital, an ordinary one, not covid. Immediately they did a lot of analyzes and studies. Ultrasound of the intestines revealed nothing. ECG is the norm. The preliminary diagnosis is diverticulitis. "We will treat" - said the doctor. - On Monday - colonoscopy. "Nevertheless, on Tuesday, my mother is unexpectedly discharged." And here it is with everyone"- my mother answered my question, why suddenly so quickly and quickly. The first doubts have already crept in. I met my mother in a respirator and gloves. and brought home.then looked at the discharge epicrisis: the blood tests at discharge were bad, and most importantly, that I could understand - rudimentary inflammatory processes in the lungs were found. Now, in hindsight, I understand: my mother was quickly discharged so as not to take a sin the clinical picture was already clear to the doctors - but the hospital is not covid, there is nothing to treat, while there are no obvious symptoms, it is better to prescribe the patient... Covid-19 is a cunning virus.During the incubation period, it looks for weak points in the body and at hour X In the last year, my mother had problems with the intestines ... Covid struck him the first targeted blow, provoking bleeding in its upper parts. And then he calmly took up his favorite thing - the lungs. ... known symptoms appeared a day after discharge from the hospital: fever, dry cough... But also diarrhea and vomiting. Moreover, vomiting is like a reaction to any food and any drink. The first test for covid was positive. The local doctor, however, finds no cause for alarm - the lungs are carefully listened to, there are no wheezing. Let's treat at home: an antibiotic is prescribed - azithromycin and arbidol. But nothing helps. Sometimes the temperature can be brought down with paracetamol - but this is a temporary relief, by the evening again the chills and 38 ... On the 10th day, in a conversation with my mother, I hear her shortness of breath. I called the mobile district doctor: "Lyubov Petrovna, I do not like my mother's breathing, I beg you very much - listen to her again." The doctor immediately goes to meet: "Well, today I will come to her again - make a call". An hour and a half later she received a call: “I'm at yours. I don't like your mom's breath. I am writing out a referral for hospitalization. " An ambulance arrived: “Why are you hysterical? Well, think about the temperature. Treat yourself at home. " And - they left. An hour later, his 87-year-old father calls - he also has a fever. He knocks her down with paracetamol. And that's all. The next morning, he has no symptoms. Surprising... But mom is getting worse. Shortness of breath increases. I call the ambulance again. But the ambulance again sees no reason for hospitalization - and is taking my mother for a CT scan to one of the nearby polyclinics converted into a CT center. CT shows 25% lesion of the lung parenchyma. Mom is not given the results of the study and - they are offered to stomp their feet home: 25 percent? Nonsense! Treat at home, here's the drug - Ceftriaxone inject it on an outpatient basis, get better. I immediately call the local doctor. “They’re out of their minds! Who will do injections here on an outpatient basis? No one! And it's forbidden! " The local doctor calls the ambulance again. She arrives, the doctor opens all the windows in the apartment - reads a long lecture on the benefits of fresh air: “Why do you need a hospital? You lie at home alone, and there you catch some infection - do you need it?" The parents are scared. The ambulance is leaving ... And then I understand that this is their attitude - to use all the oratorical charms, all the power of persuasion, just not to put elderly people with covid in the hospital. I call the ambulance dispatch office and, in a threatening tone, literally demand that the ambulance be sent again to the indicated address. They come. Long negotiations again. But right there from them an offer flashed - to take to the 24th hospital. I have 10-15 minutes at my disposal. I know that the flagships of antikovid medicine in Moscow are Kommunarka (Denis Protsenko), Hospital 52 (Professor Tsarenko) and Hospital 67 (Andrey Sergeevich Shkoda). How to be? I called the last one - I was not. "24th? A very good hospital, there is a very good head physician, I know him ... Put your mom down, don't even think. " Upon admission to the hospital, my mother already had 40 percent lung damage - covid a day, imperceptibly, ate another 15 percent. The first course of treatment: the drug "Kaletra", injections of antitrobose Clexane in the abdomen and oxygen therapy. 4 days pass. There is no improvement. On the fifth day - a sharp deterioration. CT scans already show 72% lung involvement. Saturation drops to 80. Mom is 81 years old. My entire horizon is covered by a huge blue-black cloud - and slowly begins to creep over me...

Doctors bring heavy artillery into battle - Favipiravir. Japanese flu drug. True, just the other day, the Japanese themselves doubted its effectiveness. In vain. This word - Favipiravir - until the end of my days, I will pronounce as Hallelujah, Arigato, gozaimas! - the great Japanese nation. Favipiravir, like a powerful pig, wedged himself into the slender covid rows and sowed confusion and confusion in them. But this is a powerful drug, the standard dose is 12 tablets, a lot of side effects, it is no coincidence that the elderly are recommended to use it with caution. My mother's pulse quickened, her consciousness became clouded, she was transferred to intensive care... It was the evening of July 3. On the morning of the 4th, my mother had a vascular crisis, the Hotline gave out information: “the condition is extremely difficult, confused consciousness, chronic cerebral ischemia, hypertension of the 2nd degree”... Everyone... They begin to raise all imaginable sores to to blame them all... What to do? What to prepare for? You are powerless to influence anything. You are a zero, a complete zero ... What is the name of that nameless resuscitation doctor (or a team of doctors) who worked with mom all day on July 4th. I will definitely try to find out his name. To say that he is a professional of the highest standard is to say nothing. He is God. In some incomprehensible way, he managed to reconcile mother's decrepit vessels with favipiravir, stabilize cardiovascular activity and stop the destruction of the lung parenchyma - the negative dynamics came to naught. By the evening of the 4th, the saturation was raised to 92, the pulse returned to normal, as did the temperature. In total, my mother spent a week in intensive care. On the fifth day of her stay there, the operator of the "Hot Line" suddenly gave out: the patient was transferred to mechanical ventilation. It sounded like a sentence. Why? At saturation 95 - mechanical ventilation? But, fortunately, everything turned out to be different. Hotline operators allow themselves to swallow letters: not ventilator, but NIV, with the swallowing of the letter H, that is, Non-invasive ventilator, that is, a banal oxygen mask... But because of this swallowing, it is easy for loved ones and relatives to get a heart attack. Hotline Operators of the remaining covid hospitals - please think about it! The postresuscitation period took another 10 days. Favipiravir's success was consolidated by the antibiotic Colchicine (Colchomycin). Mom turned out to have a strong body. And a strong will to live. I always knew that she, despite her age, was still very young ... And we also prayed for her with all our might, and did not give her to be torn apart by this terrible virus. Mom was discharged today, July 24, she spent almost a month in the hospital. All ex-patients with Covid are taken home by a minibus. Mom came home and slept all day. There are two to three weeks of recovery ahead. Least. And, of course, she needs fresh air. Friends who have elderly parents, try to inspire them, although it is very difficult - you have to be careful, this virus has not gone anywhere, and will not go away for a long time. You have to get used to living in a new reality. In order to avoid this rainy sleepless July 2020, which fell to my lot...

Separate words of gratitude to those who helped and supported. My boundless gratitude to the head physician of the 24th City Clinical Hospital Grigory Vladimirovich Rodoman - a low bow to you and the doctors of your hospital! They performed a miracle, in which, I must admit, at some moments I no longer believed. Special thanks to Marina Anatolyevna Antoshechkina, deputy head physician of the 24th City Clinical Hospital, for her responsiveness and sensitivity! Many thanks to my family, to all my friends who prayed and believed with me. Take care of yourself and your loved ones, friends!