This morning, I underwent testing for COVID-19. Navigating symptoms these days feels like a game of chance—could that scratchy throat be just another result of stress, or is it a sign that despite my best efforts—hand sanitizers, social distancing, and disinfecting every surface—I’ve been caught off guard?
Just like everyone else, I’ve been adhering to social distancing for three weeks. Yet, a week ago, I found myself in the emergency room. My physician suspected an appendicitis due to sharp pains in my lower right abdomen, but without the ability to conduct blood tests or a physical examination—everything was happening over the phone—she was at a loss for next steps.
Desperate for a CT scan that day, I waited in pain for over two hours, only to be told by the nurse that my insurance company wouldn’t approve it without 24 hours’ notice. On a Friday afternoon, that meant the earliest I could be seen as an outpatient was the following Monday—far too late if my appendix was on the verge of bursting! To her credit, the nurse tried to schedule a CT scan for later that day, but insurance blocked it.
Why would anyone be sent to the ER in these times unless absolutely necessary?
Out of options, I went to the hospital, the very place I had been trying to avoid due to the risk of COVID-19 exposure. Just a week prior, the local hospital had reported 20 confirmed cases of the virus, 38 suspected cases, and 9 staff members infected. Thank goodness I didn’t know the full extent of the situation before heading to the ER; it would have only added to my anxiety.
Outside, tents had been erected for overflow patients, and makeshift COVID-19 rooms were being set up. Visitors were no longer allowed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should never have been there.
Inside, my doctor aimed to expedite my visit to minimize any potential exposure. He quickly ruled out appendicitis, suggesting it was more likely a flare-up of my endometriosis. He mentioned that had the nurse been able to see me in person, she would have recognized that immediately.
The real danger, he said, was simply being in the ER surrounded by COVID-19 patients. I spent three hours there in total. After each shift, he changes his clothes in the garage and showers immediately, urging me to do the same.
When I arrived home, my six-year-old son rushed to hug me before my husband could intervene. I panicked and yelled for him to stay away, fearing contamination. His face crumpled in confusion and fear, but I had to prioritize safety.
It’s astounding to think about the bravery of medical professionals who face such risks daily. Yet, if insurance companies are pushing patients into emergency rooms unnecessarily, they are exacerbating the situation for everyone.
A week post-hospital visit, I began experiencing diarrhea and a sore throat—symptoms emerging eight days after potential exposure. The sore throat intensified overnight, and soon I was dealing with fever, chills, and fatigue. My stomach issues had subsided, but there was a nagging fear that I had contracted COVID-19 during my hospital visit.
I contacted my doctor, who expressed concern about the possibility of COVID-19, noting they were witnessing various symptoms in patients, including gastrointestinal issues. Given that I had a clear exposure, she suggested testing. Initially hesitant to use a limited resource, she reassured me that they had enough tests and were evaluating patients with fewer concerns than I had.
So, I went to a drive-thru testing site at my doctor’s office. The nurses were clad in full-body protective gear. I’ll know my results in about five days.
Now, I find myself increasingly frustrated. The unnecessary ER visit could have been avoided if not for bureaucratic red tape from my insurance provider. It’s reckless to send patients who could easily receive outpatient care into an environment rife with COVID-19.
My doctor has advised me to minimize viral exposure at home, which involves opening windows, wearing masks, and keeping my distance from family. That’s a tricky balancing act with a six-year-old, three-year-old, and a toddler while my husband works full-time.
Brian crafted masks from old t-shirts, and I’m currently isolating in my locked bedroom. My youngest son, Thomas, is outside the door, telling my husband, “Mama is better!” It’s heartbreaking to see him struggle to understand why he can’t come close. My kindergartener even left my cherished childhood stuffed animal at the door for me.
As I wait for my test results, my husband and I are trying to devise a plan that considers everyone’s needs during this uncertain week. I sincerely hope the results come back negative. I’ve been diligent about social distancing, and the only place I could have contracted anything was at the hospital.
We didn’t need to end up in this predicament.
For more insights on home insemination, you can check out another one of our posts here. Resources like Make A Mom can provide valuable information for couples navigating their fertility journey, and Cleveland Clinic offers excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
This personal experience highlights the frustrations of navigating healthcare during the COVID-19 pandemic, emphasizing the dangers posed by unnecessary ER visits due to insurance regulations. It reflects on the emotional toll of isolation from loved ones while awaiting test results, underscoring the importance of healthcare access and the sacrifices made by medical professionals.
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