It was the Sunday night before Christmas.

I freaked out when I cleaned out the cat’s litter box but couldn’t smell the poop or pee.

When I texted Roe LaPorte (my brother from another mother and father) he insisted I get tested for COVID.

I blew off his concerns.

Roe, a retired physician’s assistant, wrote that I was not making good health decisions and was probably hypoxic.

“I’mnothypoxic,” ‘wrote back, because I thought it meant I was nuts.

It didn’t, but his comment got me in gear.

No COVID-19 tests in Hennessey, the doctor’s office said Monday morning.

Sites in Enid and Kingfisher were suggested by family and friends, and I couldn’t get through until 8 a.m. Monday.

I hit redial every five minutes or so, and had already logged 16 busy numbers when I got an Enid answering machine and left a message. When I tried Kingfisher’s Trail Creek Wellness Center again, I actually got a ring tone. I was so surprised to hear a person’s voice that I sorta stumbled over my words.

She asked my name, date of birth, and put me on hold.

Progress!

The recorded message played continuously about how important my call was to them, and after 30 minutes I was relieved to find it was.

The first available appointment was Wednesday morning. Not as soon as I wanted, but it was mine.

I was certain it would be negative because I’ve been like the mask police with everyone, and everywhere. I use hand sanitizer, wash my hands, social distance, and refuse to sign credit card machines.

I’d lost my sense of taste the month before with the daily inhaler prescribed for my COPD. I also hadn’t had a temperature, but did have a cold three days after I cleared the snow off my car on that Monday night for 45 minutes so I could cover a school board meeting. Then I was down for the count the rest of the week with what felt like the flu, though I’d had a flu shot.

I told the kids I was certain I’d be negative, but would keep them posted.

While I waited outside the Wellness Clinic that morning I psyched myself up that I’d be OK, then remembered each time I believe that in a medical situation that I’m always wrong.

Then I prayed.

“Please. Lord, I’m due. Let me dodge this bullet.”

I watched sparrows hide from the wind under the car next to mine, and the leaves that skipped across the dead grass in front of me before I started to bargain with God.

“I’ll listen instead of always talking.

“I’ll help others more, but I won’t promise that I’ll go to church every time the church doors are open, or if I will even go in when they are able to be open,” I told him. “I still haven’t forgiven You for taking my husband, then my son seven months later.”

I’d left in a rush before reading the prayer in the morning paper until I got home: “God of redemption, encourage us to be honest with ourselves and with You in our prayers. Amen.”

I’d been honest, and after a 15-minute rapid COVID nasal swab by a super nurse, I found out I was positive.

The conversations from the medical staff that followed about tracings and how I’d felt earlier somehow made me feel less anxious, calm.

I still don’t know where I might have picked up the virus. I’d been so careful, but maybe it came in on my mail, or a porch delivery? Like that oxygen my doctor had insisted I use at night for my COPD?

“And ironically it’s that oxygen you didn’t think you needed that will probably keep you alive,” the physician’s assistant told me. “You need it 24/7 now.”

Roe had said another family member’s doctor recommended an infusion after he tested positive. So before I left the clinic I asked the physician’s assist an t, Bridget Ke as t, about the out-pat ie n t B A M (Bamlanivimab) IV infusion.

She said I’d qualify for it, and by 5 p.m. I got a call from St. Mary’s in Enid to be there at 8 a.m. Thursday for the BAM infusion.

Here I’d avoided going to a hospital like the plague for fear of catching something, but the protocols when I got there were amazing.

I felt safe as another patient and I were called up. He stayed six feet behind, and the nurse told him there was no need to keep his distance because we both had it, we’d be on the elevator together, and he and I would share a hospital room.

Surprise!

Once in the hospital room it was almost like old home week because one of the nurses was from Hennessey. I know both her parents, and her grandmother. My nurse lives in Drummond, and both were so professional, so genuine, so caring, so careful, so smart, and so upbeat!

We were in great hands for the two and a half hour procedure.

I’d been prepared for the long, boring drip with my solitaire game and a backup battery charger, but never used it.

The nurses checked on us often, answered all my questions about the virus. And yes, patients with 0 positive blood type are less likely to get it, but still do, and those with AB blood are most at risk.

Myroomie, a semi-retired Enid pharmacist, knew lots of people from Hennessey. He’d also been a sales rep for Eli Lilly, the company that makes BAM.

He’d called his doctor and said he’d lost the sense of smell, but could still taste. He was told to go to Chick-fil-a and order the chicken tortilla soup, and if he couldn’t taste the spices in it, then he needed to get tested.

His sister is a nurse in Oklahoma City who helped him schedule a test.

His treatment was finished first, but he had trouble standing up after sitting so long. I waited on him for fear we’d both get lost finding the elevator, but a nurse took us there.

He said he was OK, and we made it to the emergency room exit. He held onto a short rail outside, told me they’d taken him out of his knee rehab due to COVID and he was having trouble walking.

He was tall, but I managed to steady him on the right, and we walked slowly before he slid down a slight incline in the drive.

Luckily, I didn’t fall, but pulled up on his arms so he wouldn’t hit his head on the pavement.

He was slumped forward, but told me not to try and lift him.

A guy came out a side door and helped him up, then left. I thought we were at my roomie’s car, but it was further down so I helped him get there.

I got in my car, waited to see him pull out. He didn’t right away, so I drove around until I could see the front of his SUV. He saw me, and waved.

I felt strangely relieved on so many levels that day.

My Christmas COVID test wasn’t the result I’d wanted. But, thank God and all the healthcare people and drugs, I’m on the mend. It was a God-like bonus that I was there to help get my COVID roomie to his car.

It was exhilarating to be able to help someone else that day after being cared for so well by others.