By Ann Farabee

A journey can be defined as a long and difficult process of change that you travel through. To travel through means you go in on one side and come out on the other side.

I was on a journey.

I was in a process of change.

I was determined to travel through — and come out on the other side — of COVID.

From the very beginning of my journey, it was as if an enemy was attacking my body, trying to take away who I was by keeping my focus on my sickness.

The timeline:

Day 1 — Temp 99.0. Headache. Achy. Breathing problems.

Day 2 — Completely normal.

Day 3 — Temp 100.5. Headache. Achy. Weak. Breathing problems.

Day 4 — COVID test taken. Twelve hours later, results: POSITIVE.

My first words as I saw the results, “Oh no.”

Day 5 — A 10-day isolation order and a family quarantine order of 14 days began. Our grandchildren could not go to school. Charles and my son made sure all precautions were taken for our family, so they would not get the virus. But, my son got the virus on this day, but was well four days later.

With the restrictions, people we knew realized that getting needed items — food, groceries, medical, household, personal — would be difficult. God sent angels in human form to minister to our family during this time. We accepted it.

Day 6. There were daily calls, emails, or texts from the Get Well Loop, health alliance, or doctor’s office. Otherwise, I would have spent those long hours worrying if I needed a question answered. I was able to rest at home, had resources to do so at that point, and the ability to stay connected with medical professionals. They were my lifeline.

Day 7. The symptoms that had already arrived still remained — and new ones continued to join them — a rash, a cough, sore throat, and I know it may sound weird — but vivid dreams.

Day 8. Medically, every avenue possible at this time had been set in place for me to get well while isolated at home, and using what I had been told to use: Robitussin, Mucinex, alternate acetaminophen and ibuprofen, along with two types of inhalers that I had begun a month earlier, due to breathing problems.

Oh how my heart longed for getting well while at home. But it was getting to be too much on me — and on my family.

The emotional, spiritual and mental all began to join in with the physical. I was starting to feel as if I was losing myself to my sickness. I was no longer watching TV while lying in my bed. I had stopped reading and paid little attention to my phone.

Blurry vision and watery eyes had joined the other symptoms and were making everything more difficult — and more scary.

It seemed as if the only prayer I could pray was, “Lord, heal me.”

Late that evening, Charles peeked around the door of our bedroom to check on me, thinking I may be asleep. As always, he was wearing his mask, but all I could see when we made eye contact were the tears in his eyes. It broke my heart.

I took a deep breath.

I closed my eyes.

Okay, Lord, I hear you.

I am not getting well.

I need to go to the ER.

We went.

COVID-19 was our enemy.

JESUS-2020 would be our deliverer.

Next week, I will be continuing to share my COVID-19 story. Thank you for reading or viewing it. If you have questions or comments, I would love to hear from you at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com