Having, and Counseling on, COVID
I was tested for COVID on January 11, 2021. The test was positive. On January 19, I was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia and atrial fibrillation. As far as I could tell, the atrial fibrillation began while I was being admitted. I did not feel sick and had no fever—only a slight cough and a mild tightness in my throat.
Three other adults in my household had also tested positive for COVID. They were miserably ill, with shortness of breath, frequent coughing, fatigue on climbing stairs, and no appetite. We had all lost our appetite and sense of smell.
I had been feeling well—cleaning, cooking, and bringing my sick family members tea, juice, and soup—until the fifth day after my diagnosis, when I was not feeling energetic. A family member insisted that I go to the emergency room to check out my slight cough. I have since learned that I had silent hypoxia and it was fortunate I got to the hospital when I did.
At the hospital, I received treatment for the COVID virus and pneumonia. I never felt bad and was discharged in five days. Post hospitalization, I needed a full dose of high blood pressure medication instead of the one-fourth pill I had taken for years. I was on a blood thinner twice a day, because atrial fibrillation can cause blood clots. My “naps” went from none to one a day for two to three hours.
I now nap for ten to fifteen minutes every two or three days—my brain tells me when I’ve had enough “incoming data.” And sometimes I lie down and rest for twenty minutes with my mind drifting to vague, non-tension-causing thoughts. I have gone to fewer RC events, I’ve had shorter Zoom calls, and I decide which events I will lead.
COUNSELING ON COVID
There is much variation in how COVID affects humans. I will share what’s been useful for me in counseling on it and in counseling others.
As client, I’ve yawned lots and lots—both inside of sessions, and outside with no counselor present. When talking to anyone, I’ve almost always started to yawn if I say anything like, “I had COVID.” In sessions I’ve asked, “Do you want to hear my COVID story?” Sharing almost any detail will bring yawning.
As counselor, I have noticed what words or expressions come before the client’s yawns and have kept the client there. I may say, “Tell me that again,” if the yawns taper off [diminish]. As client, I’ve tried to stay with the yawning rather than move on to tell more of the story (which I often want to do). Yawning has also seemed to be a path to the fear and grief. I have often shaken after a deep yawn.
I have worked on fear that has felt far away. It has seemed useful to say, in a matter-of-fact and light tone, “If I really could notice it (the fear), I might be scared.” When working on “active” fear, I have said, in a light and cheerful tone, “I might be a little scared.”
Discharging on worry and fear has helped me when I’m counselor to keep a tone of voice and facial expression that are pleased, welcoming, relaxed, and unhurried. I’ve also found it useful to discharge, with a different Co-Counselor, after giving someone a session.
As counselor it’s been important to start where the client is, perhaps with an open-ended question like, “How are you?” or “How are you doing?” And then listen.
When a client’s early hurts about survival have been restimulated, I have offered a statement like, “Once upon a time there was a little one who got really scared”—again with a light tone of voice. I have asked for permission to go back with the client for the little one [the client as a child] and have encouraged the little one to notice that someone is here now: “We are with you now. You made it!” I have let the client know it is okay for them to show how scary and hard it was. I have asked, “When have you felt like this before?” and encouraged them to look at the chain of fears beginning early in their life.
Many of us have made rigid decisions about survival that can show in an inability for us to notice that we are sick or hurting. Since I did not feel pain or discomfort (I had no idea that I had pneumonia and was not breathing well), I would give myself permission to feel the fear I had pushed aside: “It might be okay to feel fear now,” or “It might be safe enough to feel this now.” Some of us may have early distress about survival in utero, at birth, or as an infant. We can tell the stories of what we know, or think, happened.
A client may have to move slowly toward doing this, but they could say in a light tone, “I am not scared of you, fear. Do your worst.”
Fear can make us tighten up physically. If a client is holding their body rigidly when working on fear, I’ve encouraged them to move some part of their body. They can push against something and make a loud sound, if the surroundings allow. We often stop talking or making sounds when we’re scared, so sound is a good contradiction [to distress]. Attention on having survived can sometimes lead to shaking. It can also help for a client to breathe in slowly and deeply and then out, slowly, from deep down in the lungs.
I have helped clients get attention away from the distress by, for example, asking them for random pleasant memories and having them respond with simple and brief “first thoughts.”
I have found that some clients, if they have a pattern of taking care of others, need to focus on themselves: “Me, me, me!”
When I was sick, I watched old movies and comedy shows on television. When possible, I stayed away from news of the virus death toll. I would notice nature and recall pleasant memories of it. I did some drawings of faces, took pictures of the drawings, and attached them to greetings to family and friends.
It was useful to be pleased with my body and the good work it was doing to fight the virus: “Good job, lungs. Good job, heart. Good job, cells,” and so on. Taking deep breaths while appreciating my lungs often led to yawning. I would notice how strong my body was, how well it was fighting. I had an image of my cells in battle with the virus. They had little arms and legs and gloved fists that were fighting against the intruding virus—relentlessly punching and pummeling it so it couldn’t take over. And they were winning. The virus was getting squashed to a pulp and kicked out of my body. The cells were jumping up and down with glee: “We won! We won!” Another client could make up [invent] their own story.
What another person experiences with COVID may bear no resemblance to what I have described. Together we will learn how to heal from it.
Lawrenceville, Georgia, USA
(Present Time 205, October 2021)