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by Michael Morse, contributing writer
I trusted the science, and public health and it nearly killed me
“Trust the science,” they said.
So I got their vaccine. I masked in public. I socially distanced.
“Your doctor understands Covid far more than Google,” they said.
So I called my doctor when I tested positive with Covid.
“If you have Covid, we can’t see you in the office,” they said.
So I called the Urgent Care to tell them I was coming in for treatment for Covid.
“We have no Covid treatment” they said. “Go to the ER.”
Three times I went to “The ER.” Twice I was sent home with no treatment for Covid.
“I think I have a collapsed lung,” I said.
“Come back if you have trouble breathing,” they said.
“You have Costochronditis,” they said.
“No I don’t. I have Covid and a collapsed lung,” I said.
Six days later, I did.
“I have a collapsed lung,” I said.
“Covid affects people differently,” they said. “But we’ll do a chest x-ray anyway.”
“You have a collapsed lung,” they said, shocked.
“No kidding,” I said.
On April 17th, I trusted the science and the medical professionals. They damn near killed me. On May 1st I was admitted to Rhode Island Hospital with a collapsed lung that required surgical repair, parainfluenza, bacterial pneumonia, Covid and Sepsis. I was there for twelve days. Chest tubes and IV antibiotics, plus a slew of other medications. I lost twenty-five pounds, and any faith I had in “The Science.” Had I been treated for Covid on April 17th there is a very good chance all of this would have been avoided.
In spite of “The Science,” I survived. Buried deep in our health care system are true professionals that are skilled and thorough, and saved my life by dealing with “The Problem.”
Getting to them was the challenge.
For thirteen days my body attacked itself while repeated cries for help were ignored by my PCP, an Urgent Care Center and subsequent trips to hospital based emergency rooms.
I could have died. I didn’t. A lot of people did, because they trusted the science, ignored their inner voice and trusted their doctor.
Michael Morse spent 23 years as a firefighter/EMT with the Providence Fire Department before retiring in 2013 as Captain, Rescue Co. 5. He is an author of several books, most offering fellow firefighter/EMTs and the general population alike a poignant glimpse into one person’s journey through life, work and hope for the future. He is a Warwick resident.
To read more of Morse’s columns for RINewsToday, go to: https://rinewstoday.com/michael-morse/
We met at the end of June 2021…
My husband Michael and I coming back from our honeymoon. I just want you to know that we think of you often … I think of you often…and remember the positive impact of having met you has had on our lives. I/we hope that you are well and will be forever grateful for having crossed paths.
My mother always said to listen to that inner voice and for 82+ years, it has never steered me wrong. Our medical profession is not what is was, sadly. So sorry you had to go through this, and hope you are feeling better. I live in a very small town in Maine with an excellent health care center where the employees actually listen to their patients and care.
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