COVID crisis: A mother’s tale of resilience and gratitude

I do not usually share personal matters in my public advocacy, as I am mindful of the privacy of family members.

My spirit has moved me to share my story of perseverance and gratitude. I hope that it helps and encourages someone.

The following event was one of the top three worst experiences regarding family medical challenges I have experienced (and I have had a few). Four years ago, our two older sons (then 20 and 18) and I were discharged from hotel isolation, having been admitted to Harrison Point. It was a particularly horrible, stressful time for me, made worse by the demand of the CXC student advocacy which was at a critical point. While the advocacy was obviously a secondary consideration, I felt a responsibility to carry it as there was no one else. Very few involved knew of these personal challenges.

The feeling that I remember most is one of abject fear, if not terror, of the unknown. COVID was still relatively new and Barbados was in the middle of a huge surge of cases – and deaths – driven by the inevitable tourist imports. Back then, one didn’t share one’s diagnosis. How things have changed. Thank you, God!

The fear when the symptoms appeared; the long anxious wait for results, as there was a delay due to the sheer volume of cases; the fear when the boys were collected for isolation at Harrison Point; the public openness of said collection (within minutes, my US-based cousin called me to express great concern as she had heard ‘on the grapevine’; the tremendous fear of the unknown: if the boys got worse, I wouldn’t be able to be with and advocate for them; the scramble to my husband and our then 13-year-old; more fear – as we worried what would happen if one was positive but the other wasn’t. The fear and anxiety I felt when I packed the boys’ overnight bags; the fear and anxiety I felt as they bravely walked what appeared to be the longest walk from our home to get into the bus . . . never will I forget.

They were young adults so I couldn’t go with them. But they were still my babies and I had always attended every single one of their medical dramas; (the 12 broken bones, (mainly football and not home, as I would hastily volunteer at the ER clinic – two sets four weeks apart); hospital admissions and casualty trips in three countries, one after a car crash; several surgeries, starting with three-year-old Alex; concussions and numerous FMH and Sandy Crest visits (starting with our eldest before he was two; one hasn’t lived until one is greeted by the nurse — ‘Wait, you again!’ — returning with the second child in three hours). At least we got frequent flyer mile equivalent benefits and an offer of shares on partner retirement (the MD might have been joking; I wasn’t).

How could I not go with them to the COVID hospital!? That had become my (apparent) career! And then we got the news – the same day as the boys’ admission – that I was positive too and the COVID isolation transport unit was on their way! I had maybe an hour to digest the news, prep and get ready, unlike the overnight we had had with the boys. I wasn’t ready and I told them. After the third attempt to collect me (‘Ma’am! If you don’t come out NOW we will leave you!’ ‘Fine by me!’), off I went. One hardly wants the police car with sirens, and no doubt less-than-enthused police officers, that would have likely accompanied a fourth collection attempt. It broke my heart when our youngest said as I left home: ‘Here Mum, take your favourite chocolates! Hershey’s Kisses! They will help!’ But I put on my usual brave face during family medical crises and off I went! All’s well that ends well. Our respective symptoms did not worsen, and we had the privilege of finishing our isolation at a hotel. It cost a fortune, but COVID had put paid to any family travel expense anyway!

Barbados had excellent isolation protocols from a public health perspective, so I have been told by the experts, and I am proud of what we were able to achieve as a small poor nation, during such a difficult time, especially when compared with far wealthier nations such as the US, UK, Sweden with their disastrous ‘let it rip’ initial decisions which led to millions of unnecessary serious illness and death. So the experts say. But I understood, as traumatic as the collection process was, that the COVID public health emergency imperative trumped the ideal of total personal medical privacy.

Harrison’s Point, as a purpose-built COVID isolation hospital, was a tremendous achievement by the Barbados Government and we are very grateful. The swift investment of scarce resources to build  Harrison’s Point  — from scratch — made even scarcer by the global economic shutdown, likely saved our densely populated country with small homes of multigenerational households from an even worse COVID disaster. That hospital, inclusive of ICU facilities, was sanitary, well-appointed to international standards and impressive from my layperson’s perspective (sadly, having been in more than a few hospitals, I know). It was also a testament to the best of Public-Private Partnerships (PPP), as the entire nation came together with donations to make it as comfortable as possible for patients: Playstations, pool tables, and more! I have obviously never publicly commended the staff at Harrison Point. Every single one was wonderful: from the Cuban nurses, the doctors, the ancillary staff — the compassion and care they displayed helped to make a very stressful situation bearable. The food was delish, ’nuff, and provided in a timely manner. It demonstrated what standards we are capable of as a people and should be able to replicate throughout our society on an ongoing basis.

My second experience with Harrison’s Point, where two more close family members were hospitalised seriously ill just over a year ago, was equally positive. The facilities and the staff were just as impressive (Hello Julia!). I am so very grateful that we had a successful discharge; many people, including other family members, were not so blessed. Still, that two-week admission, and the months of recovery after, are tied with our child’s month-long QEH admission as the most horrible experience of my life.

What more can be said about the Most Honourable Dr Corey Forde, who led our national COVID response, that hasn’t been said already? Expertise, leadership, dedication, competence, care and compassion matter, especially in a time of crisis. He displayed all those too often rare attributes and many more. I also thank our family paediatrician, my rock, the personification of the best that a medical doctor can be. I suspect that she wouldn’t want me to name her, with her usual humility, but her competence, empathy and care have probably saved what is left of my sanity more times than she could ever know. Dr Jennings, Dr Gillian Birchwood-Moseley, and Dr K, consultant paediatricians at QEH, are of a similar mould. The two ancillary staff on the paediatric ward I also got to know well and were lovely. Some of the nurses . . . well, let’s just say we had less of a sterling experience with them, but I won’t dwell on that due to PTSD! The patient advocacy representative asked me to be part of their solution-based response, but at the time that was more than I could cope with.

I also acknowledge and am eternally grateful for the privilege of medical guidance from family members, which helped my advocacy for my family. They have minimised many potential medical catastrophes. They make the seven nursing professional aunties in our family proud, including Aunty Monica who is sadly no longer with us.

In times of crisis, true friends and family are revealed. I learned that big time during our first Harrison’s Point sojourn. The less said about that disappointment, if not cruelty, from a now former friend the better, other than to thank those true family and friends from the bottom of my heart.

I am mindful that our story of family COVID is but one of many similar ones. I am aware that too many endure much worse medical challenges, including horrible outcomes. One relatively young cousin unexpectedly passed away at Harrison’s Point on the day she was due to be discharged. We have a family friend who lost both of their parents there. On the same day.

I am grateful for all of us who are here continuing the good fight. I wonder if God’s purpose forged me in this crucible of family medical, and other, advocacy so that I could be a better advocate for our nation’s and CARICOM’s children.

And still, I rise.