The United States declared a public health emergency because of the coronavirus. The declaration had me reflecting on the scare we experienced in Seattle last April. My post on April 9, informed everyone that Dave was diagnosed with the coronavirus and was in isolation at The University of Washington Medical Center. Anyone entering the room was required to wear a full yellow gown, rubber gloves and a mask with a shield. It was quite a costume and very cumbersome. It was hard to breath all day long with that garb, so I would take breaks from the room just to get a breath of fresh air.

Dave was quarantined for 12 long days. I realized how serious the coronavirus was at the time, but he was too sick to comprehend why he was isolated. On the 13th day, when the doctors all walked in without gowns, I couldn’t believe how different they looked. I mean, for 12 days all that I saw were their eyes through the shield. Suddenly, I could see their entire faces, with cheeks, lips and even smiles. It felt like I was meeting all of them again for the first time.

In my blog, I’ve shared one of three times that we just had to break the rules a little to keep Dave from jumping out of the window. The first time was while he was isolated, which was probably the worse thing that could happen to one who is claustrophobic. On April 17, I wrote…

Staying in bed for long periods of time is very difficult for Dave. Especially when he is healthy, he just doesn’t slow down for long. So, one can imagine that the last 12 days drove him crazy. In fact, at one point when he was in isolation, he was determined to leave the room. He just needed to walk around and experience freedom. At 2 a.m., I stood at the door, arms outstretched, blocking his way. Reminding him he was quarantined, I soon realized that nothing was going to stop him. He walked out of the room, went to the right and kept going. I walked out right behind him and went to the left. I didn’t want to be a part of him getting busted.

We laugh about this now because there was no stopping Dave. Weeks later, when Dave was in the hospital for the CAR T-Cell infusion, he was hooked up to a heart monitor called a “tellie.” The machine monitored his every move, with a technician assigned to watch his stats from a “tellie” room. Anytime the technician would lose contact, several staff members would come crashing through the door to see if his heart had stopped. Every time it happened, it was just from one of the eight connections that came loose. Luckily, his reprieve from the “tellie” happened once a day for his shower.

Well it just so happened that on a warm, sunny day just after his shower, we took a secret walk to the second floor, slipped out the cafe door and made it out into the warm fresh air. At the risk of someone from our floor spotting us, we darted back up to his room without being missed. We buzzed for the nurse and had the “tellie” hooked back up again. Mission accomplished.

The third time escaping his room was by far the most funny trick that we tried to pull. During “shower time” again, I made his bed up to make it look like he was taking a nap. I went to great lengths making sure that it looked just like Dave. I even placed his baseball cap askew on his pillow, as if it was covering his eyes. But, this time we didn’t get away with it. We were caught red-handed before we could take a stroll outside to get fresh air. Good thing our nurse had a sense of humor.

These days, Dave has been out riding his bike anywhere from 7-10 miles a day. The fresh air and sunshine has been good for him and is helping with recovery. Meals are going well. He is sleeping better, and we are looking forward to the start of spring training. He has no need to sneak around and outwit the best of the best.