May 6, 2020
By Angelina DeLuca
Staff Writer
During the week of March 23, my 59-year-old father Peter DeLuca developed all of the symptoms of a sinus infection, which was the diagnosis his doctor confirmed over the phone. At first, his nose was stuffy, but with each passing day, he felt worse and worse.
My dad, who is a union construction worker, believes he caught the coronavirus at work because another employee had COVID-19 but did not tell any of his colleagues about his condition. The man had not been tested but was exhibiting all the symptoms of the virus. In the end, that person ended up infecting my dad and four other men, and sadly the person who did not tell anyone he was sick passed away in early April. My dad did not find this out until after he had already gotten sick and was starting to recover.
At home, my mom was closely monitoring my dad’s temperature, which had risen to a 101-degree fever. This sparked some worry within our household, so my dad got back in contact with his doctor, and the doctor told him to self-quarantine because he suspected my dad might have the coronavirus.
I became worried because I wanted my dad to get better as soon as possible, but I was also fearful that someone else in my house would become infected.
After a week of self-quarantining in my parents’ upstairs bedroom, his symptoms were intensifying. He had lost his sense of taste and smell, and he still had a fever.
During this time, my mom brought him food and checked on his breathing. She was concerned about possibly catching COVID-19, so she would constantly wash her hands and wear a mask and gloves around him. Meanwhile, my dad still hadn’t gotten tested for the virus because his doctor advised him only to seek out a test if he developed respiratory symptoms.
On March 30, my dad came downstairs to shower and seemed to be winded. He could not breathe correctly. My mom became worried, and after assessing the situation with my 26-year-old brother, she called 911. I felt relieved by their decision because I knew my dad needed medical attention to keep him safe.
When the paramedics came, they did not want to come into our house, so they asked my dad to come outside. I myself did not see the paramedics when they arrived because I was in my bedroom, where my mom asked me to stay.
My dad was rushed to Mountainside Hospital in Glen Ridge, N.J. where he was diagnosed with pneumonia in one of his lungs. He was put on oxygen and given a COVID-19 test.
It took about three days for the results to come back, but in the meantime, the hospital staff treated him as though he had the virus. They administered the malaria drug called Dihydroartemisinin that was being tested on COVID-19 patients, and he said the medication helped him feel a little better. He was also given hydroxychloroquine, vitamin C and zinc. After a few days, the test results came back positive.
On March 30, my dad came downstairs to shower and seemed to be winded. He could not breathe correctly. My mom became worried, and after assessing the situation with my 26-year-old brother, she called 911.
During his stay at the hospital, my family was not allowed to visit him, but we talked on the phone to my dad and the nurses who were taking care of him.
“I just want to come home, but I know staying here is what’s best for me right now,” I remember him saying on the phone.
I was happy to hear his voice and get assurance that he was being treated well, but it broke my heart that he missed us all and wanted to come home.
While my dad received treatment at the hospital and was being closely monitored because his oxygen levels kept going up and down, my mom, sister, brother, sister-in-law and I had been taking the necessary precautions by self-quarantining, wearing gloves when going out and practicing social distancing.
We were particularly careful because we wanted to make sure my one-year-old nephew, who currently lives in our household, stayed safe and healthy.
Luckily, no one else in my household showed any symptoms of the virus. I was especially concerned about my mom getting it since she was his caretaker, but she remained in good health.
Meanwhile, I missed my dad dearly. I had not been able to see or hug him in about three weeks, and it deeply saddened me to know that he had to sit in a hospital bed all day without any source of distraction or entertainment.
“I can’t even watch the news anymore. It’s so depressing,” my dad told us over the phone.
Finally, my family got the call for which we had all been waiting. On April 9, my dad got to come back home.
The hospital dropped off oxygen at our house for him and told him to self-quarantine up in my parents’ bedroom for 14 more days as a precaution. He lost about 20 pounds of weight, but he says he is feeling a lot better now.
On April 21, with permission from my dad’s doctor, I was finally able to hug my dad again. He is still recovering and gets winded sometimes when he walks, but he is steadily building up his strength.
It is surreal to think about the fact that my dad is a survivor of COVID-19.
“I fought. It was tough, and it is good to be alive,” my dad told me.
I couldn’t agree more.
