I'm a healthy 24-year-old, and the coronavirus nearly landed me in the hospital. Here's how I should have prepared for isolation differently.
- Sam Raskin is a young, healthy non-smoker who covered the coronavirus pandemic from the frontlines for the New York Post.
- He developed symptoms in late March, and a week later, they were severe enough that he almost ended up in the hospital.
- Given how close he was to the virus, he knows now that he should have been better prepared.
- Above all else, he writes, "take the virus seriously and prepare for it."
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On April 7, I got dressed, loaded up my backpack with clothes and chargers, put my wallet in my pocket, and waited on the couch. I monitored my shortness of breath, wondering if this was the beginning of an improbably severe bout of COVID-19. I was prepared to head to the hospital, but wasn't sure yet if I should go.
My roommate handed me a thermos filled with apple-cinnamon tea while I talked to my dad and pediatrician. Both told me not to go just yet.
Luckily, after waiting it out, I didn't end up in the hospital. But as a 24-year-old non-smoker with no pre-existing medical conditions, it seemed unthinkable that I would have coronavirus symptoms for almost two weeks and even come close to that.
While I suspected I might contract COVID-19 at some point due to the nature of my job, I never thought the symptoms would be as severe as they were that day. It was the scariest moment of my life.
Almost exactly one week before, coronavirus symptoms hit me suddenly
On March 31, I was working on three stories related to the coronavirus for the New York Post. I work part-time, mostly as a "runner" — tabloidspeak for a reporter who spends their time in the field, feeding information, color, and quotes back to beat reporters and writers in the office.
That day, at about 9:40 a.m., before a doctor shepherded myself and a photographer through Maimonides Medical Center in Brooklyn, a staffer in the lobby took my temperature. It was 98.4 degrees, so I was allowed to enter the hospital, all while wearing a surgical mask and following the lead of a top doctor at the hospital.
I saw listless and unconscious COVID-19 patients hooked up to oxygen masks and on ventilators, a hurried trauma center, and a white tent with gray floors where potential coronavirus patients awaited tests for the virus. I saw IV bags hanging outside the patients' rooms, a set-up designed to minimize the contact between the heavily equipped medical workers and highly contagious patients.
A few people have half-jokingly said in recent weeks that they're not sure if what they're feeling in their chest is anxiety about the coronavirus or an early sign they have it. For me, anxiety feels like a hunger in my chest; this discomfort, on the other hand, felt like lava had been poured down my throat and settled in my lungs.
A fever and headache I could deal with — indeed, they both subsided after a few days of frequent Tylenol doses — but the burning in my lungs signaled that I was in for a hard week or two.
If those were my only symptoms, I would have been happy, relatively speaking. But soon, I'd also have a fluctuating heartbeat and nausea. I started panting after walking briskly across the room. I developed a sore throat, a new tightness in my chest that felt different from the lava lungs, and severe fatigue.
Some days, I struggled to stay alert on the couch after I ate anything of any quantity. One day, it took me an hour to muster the energy to brush my teeth before bed.
Late into my two-week quarantine, I lost my sense of smell, taste, appetite, and the energy to cook the Passover meal I had planned.
At one point, my heart jumped as high as 110 beats per minute, only to climb down to the low fifties within the hour — all while sitting in bed. (The virus-induced heart symptom isn't talked about quite as much, but it was the second-most frightening one for me, behind the shortness of breath.)
My Maimonides visit wasn't my first visit to a hospital for a coronavirus story, and it was unlikely I contracted the coronavirus at the medical center given how soon after the visit I noticed my symptoms, two doctors told me later. (I eventually got tested, but there was an accident at the lab, so I never received my results.)
A few days earlier, on March 27, I had — while wearing a surgical mask and keeping my distance from people — spoken to nurses and medics who had been inside the hard-hit Elmhurst Hospital for a story. Maybe I got it outside the hospital, or maybe it was an Uber or subway ride some other time in March. Maybe it was just while talking to someone on the street. I'll never know.
In retrospect, the preparations I made weren't enough
In some ways, it was comforting to know I had likely contracted the virus while playing a part in informing people about the coronavirus pandemic. But in truth, given how exposed I was to it on a regular basis, I should have prepared far more extensively and meticulously than I did.
I bought aspirin and enough food for a small army. That was the extent of my preparation.
If I were to go back in time to early March, I would have bought a few other things: a pulse oximeter to check my oxygen levels and heart rate; Pepto Bismol for my stomach, Tums for my heartburn; Tylenol for the headache and fever; Mucinex for the sore throat; and a functioning thermometer.
I also made the mistake of mostly buying things I needed to cook — a task that proved exceedingly difficult for about five days of the illness. In retrospect, I wish I'd had more microwavable meals, and simple foods like bagels.
In a strange twist, Gatorade, one item I was sure would help, turned out to do the opposite. I knew I needed things that would both hydrate me and provide calories while I had little appetite. While it did both those things, it also gave me heartburn.
I also quickly understood the importance of wearing a mask to stop the spread. In the weeks after I recovered, it became the norm to wear some sort of face covering while outside in New York. But even if you live in one of the localities where this isn't yet the guidance, I suggest finding or purchasing something to cover your mouth and nose.
The symptoms may differ from person to person, but it's vital to take the coronavirus seriously and prepare for it
One of the most frustrating experiences was the fact that my symptoms came and went. The virus plays tricks with your mind: You may think your symptoms have resolved, only to find that your fever, fatigue, or sore throat make an unwelcome reappearance the next morning.
I thought I was in the clear twice: once, two days after I started feeling symptoms, while my medicated fever was under 99 degrees; the other on the day before I struggled to get out of bed in the morning. The next night, I was considering heading to the hospital.
The unpredictability of the virus means that many people experience COVID-19 symptoms differently. Even if you — like me — are a 24-year-old who exercises regularly, doesn't smoke, and counts "consumes too much aspartame" as his worst vice, you might not have a remotely similar experience to mine.
I didn't go to the hospital that night. My shortness of breath subsided and subsequently vanished, and I was able to work from home for most of the more than two weeks I stayed inside.
I am young, healthy, insured, and informed about the virus, but I still had a miserable and scary experience. Take the virus seriously and prepare for it.
Sam Raskin is a furloughed New York Post reporter and freelancer who lives in Brooklyn. He has also reported for Politico New York, Curbed New York, Gothamist, NYC Patch and other local publications.
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