Beyond in Covid

On December 6th I thought I had a bad cold. On December 8, the rapid swab gave me positive for Covid (but being the 8 I worried about it quite little being under the mantle of the Immaculate Conception), on the 10 the molecular swab confirmed the diagnosis.
From 10 to 19 isolation therapies at home with heparin, cortisone and antibiotics.
Fever at 40, actually apart from difficulty in full breathing I didn't feel so bad - my family said instead that I was out of my mind and I was giving the numbers -, the fact is that the general practitioner on December 19 sent me the USCA to home (it is not a secret police unit, it is a Special Continuity Welfare Unit - Covid) which, despite my grievances, immediately sends me by protected ambulance up to the infectious disease department specially set up at the Amedeo di Savoia with the two lungs affected at 50% by Covid pneumonia.

Excellent department, fantastic staff very communicative despite the sanitary protections that make them white kegs with blue stripes so it is not easy to understand if whoever is in front of you has to make your bed (uh, what a beard), bring you breakfast (great idea), take your blood for various tests including the painful arterial (bad idea), or visit you via various monitors with that mild grace that the doctors in this department have (well, so we understand how I am).
Immediately, taking off the glasses, they put on my oxygen helmet and it seems to me to be in those movies where you are in a storm with winds that blow at 300 per hour and exclude you from any communication possibility.
11 morning: normally they leave me only the oxygen mask in order to make me regain a humanoid aspect.

On the 21st a chaplain stands out at the door: I'm happy I can take Holy Communion every day, maybe even on Christmas Day! I receive him with understandable enthusiasm, he leaves me a Christmas greeting card of his intelligently without any of his mobile numbers, never seen again.
How does it feel to be sick with Covid in a special ward at the Amedeo di Savoia, bed 6B? I believe that a lot depends on the evil you feel, then on your own character and faith.
Those who are intubated with forced ventilation cannot do anything. Those like me who are less serious can do a lot in his static silence.
The mobile phone can be used at will but without glasses, inside a plastic helmet that is not optical glass, with the arms outstretched as they are bound by a series of needles afferent various IV tubes ... well, it is not so easy to communicate and send messages.
We are all constantly monitored by sensors and controlled by cameras, not being able to move being connected even only to oxygen we do not see other people outside the bed neighbor. Mine is called Luigi, a dear person, he seems worse than me, in the days he responds well to treatment: when I leave him he will still be in the middle of the ford.
On 21 December at 9:55 am I receive this message: "You are a precious friend, prayer envelops you, I love you and I wait for you"; I have known Ernesto for 40 years and when he says something he does it or has already done it: I feel more secure, I am in the prayer of a man in front of whom even God is moved.
The nights are long and sleepless with the noisy pneumatic helmet.

I say the rosary as always, I also say it several times, but I arrive at midnight and everything is silent except my helmet with Zoppas centrifugal sound effect. In the dim light of the night, many sad thoughts assail me, knowing and sensing the suffering and the tragedies that are experienced a few meters from my bed. In here it is normal to pray for those who feel alone, loneliness is in fact a bad thing when one suffers; God himself sent the angels to console his forsaken Son groaning in the Garden of Olives. But how many will be able to ask God the Father for help tonight? It is therefore the task of those who have faith to do it for them: in this the spirituality of the pastoral care of the sick, absorbed over many years as a minister of communion for the sick and being a member of an ancient hospital order, helps a lot.
In an ancient church in Genoa, an old hand-written sign in the sacristy reads: «Have the audacity to believe in the power of prayer! ". It is true, while you pray you realize that the Spirit guides you to the simplest prayer of the heart and it seems to you that you are no longer alone in the night but that Jesus himself and your guardian angel are on the sides of your bed simply to keep you company and they are unison with your prayer for the sick. How our Lord would like to be sought by all those who lie in the ward but he is meek and humble of heart and waits. Who knows if my prayer will be able to open these hearts that do not know the gifts that await them. I go on, the night is long and it is pleasant to be in the company of Jesus.

The nights always go by quickly and in the morning I don't even think I'm sleepy, I wait for breakfast which is usually preceded by swarms of nurses who take out their artillery to take blood for various tests. Luckily they are cheerful and nice but alas a little painful.
Unfortunately the cleaning lady of the room one morning at 7 am discovers dirty traces on the chair next to my bed that I had forgotten to make disappear.
As many as four foil papers of dark chocolates are raised before me by the diligent assistant with a threatening and scandalized way, just about to tear off his white protective robes like the high priest of the Sanhedrin.
Bofonchio with my most persuasive and innocent smile that I had pneumonia and that my stomach was fine. It was the blunder he was waiting for.

We who measure her blood sugar three times a day and give her insulin to prevent diabetes, she doesn't know that Covid can ruin her parameters and she ends up even sicker than she is? Call the colleague who measured your blood sugar immediately! While waiting for the feared response (Dies irae, dies illa!) I was practically sunk into the mattress and tried to blend in with the white sheet without great results given the size and the blue pajamas. However, life always reserves unexpected moments of social revenge. The response of my 4 chocolates was a perfectly normal blood sugar level (indeed lower than usual despite the continuous administration of cortisone).
However, a medical consultation was called, I think for a solemn punishment for daring, to have me bring a pack of subversive chocolates in the midst of the change of linen, but, unexpectedly it was agreed that obviously diabetes was not interested in my person and, with a smile of commiseration, the honor lost on the field was restored to me and, above all, the remaining dark chocolates.

Slowly, day after day I seem to rise again, the lungs seem to heal in the professional satisfaction of the medical team; I gladly amplify these happy moments with my cheerfulness, even my bed neighbor seems to enjoy them and, fortunately, her parameters start to improve too.
On December 31st, even if formally still positive at Covid, but with all the parameters in place, I receive the coveted letter of resignation: perhaps they could not stand it anymore to see me not very composed and feared my end-of-year bang with chocolates for everyone.
Ultimately it was a very strong experience for me: spiritually I was in the company of the Lord but I was also alone with a virus that you do not know what the next day is in store for you and finally, in greeting you, my dear few readers, hoping not to having bored you too much, I would like you to always remember in every difficulty these courageous and strong words that have helped me so much: "Have the audacity to believe in the power of prayer!"

Alberto Pregno
NP May 2021