My Covid Hospitalization

I used to be a strong woman. My husband and I had a child at 41. We both had dead end jobs in the U.S. We struggled to get by and make ends meet. So we made a huge, life changing decision. We decided to leave everything we had and move abroad.

We started in Germany but decided to move to Latvia where my son and I had dual citizenship and I had family. There my husband was fortunate to work with an international school and attain a PGCE. He was now a teacher.

He worked his first year in Myanmar. We lived there for a year before the coup. It was a beautiful country with many flaws: very poor air quality, and very poor health care were the main drawbacks for us, but the insane traffic, no seatbelts, lack of international banking, and near constant diarrhea didn’t help the situation either. We wanted to leave and my husband was able to secure a position in southern Thailand at a small international school. It was a really good fit for both my husband and my son. We moved there in August of 2019.

We hardly had the opportunity to get to know our new home when the Covid pandemic began. In the beginning Thailand implemented a lockdown and for the first year we were relatively safe, schools were open and travel throughout the country was allowed. Thailand went 100 days with no cases while other countries like the U.S. and the U.K. were exploding with Covid.

When Covid began, so many people were dying. It was really scary. The consensus was that older, overweight people with high blood pressure or other underlying diseases would succumb easily to this virus.

I am overweight, 50 and have high blood pressure. My husband, though not as overweight, has asthma. I was so scared. I really believed that if we caught this, we would for sure die. We would leave a very scared little boy with no parents in a foreign country. My son had many struggles that at the time we didn’t know what they were, but later he was diagnosed with Autism.

I began to plan for our deaths. I contacted my brother, who would become my son’s legal guardian. I made lists of contacts, list of bank accounts and pin numbers, should my brother need to access our money. I made long lists of the struggles my son had and how to deal with his needs. I cried the whole time. I wrote letters to my son that he could read after we were gone. It was a very scary time.

We thought about leaving Thailand, but where would we go? Back to the U.S.? Live with my mother in law until we could find jobs again? Back to Latvia and do what? Live with my brother in his small house. I mean, it’s fine for a visit, but long term that wasn’t a solution. At least in Thailand we had income and a home, so without a better option, we decided to stay in Thailand.

So while the rest of the world imploded with Covid, Thailand was enjoying no covid…. for a while.

Thailand initially had a lockdown, 2 weeks, then 2 more. Eventually we were allowed out again. My son and husband were back in school, most things were open. It was difficult to enter Thailand with limited flights and 2 week quarantines, so tourism took a nosedive.

In April of 2021 during the 2 week Songkran break we planned a trip to Phuket. Phuket was deserted. There were no outside tourists and we enjoyed the solitude and beautiful beaches. While we were there my son developed a runny nose. Nothing serious. He had no fever, he did not feel bad, he did not lose his sense of taste or smell.

At this point we all knew the symptoms of Covid: Fever, cough, loss of smell and taste, fatigue. My son only had a runny nose and very mild cough. He wasn’t the least bit slowed down. He wanted to go swimming and to the beach and play. I did not even consider that it might be Covid. His cough was so mild. It only lasted about 3 days.

At this time the Covid cases really started to rise throughout Thailand and everyone was beginning to panic. Our brief security was ending.

We flew home and I started to feel…. Meh. I didn’t feel sick. I did not have a cough, a fever, fatigue, loss of taste or smell. I just felt a bit out of sorts.

Our city organized a free Covid testing site. We decided to get tested since we had just traveled from Phuket.

By this point my son was fine. It had been quite a while since he had had a cough and he was feeling fine again.

My husband and son tested negative, but I tested positive.

I was terrified. My worst fears had come true. I was going to die. This was going to kill me. I am overweight, have high blood pressure, and I am getting old.

It was then I learned that Thailand had made a law that everyone, EVERYONE, that tested positive had to go to a hospital. It didn’t matter if you lived alone or if you were asymptomatic. It didn’t matter if you had a child at home and no one to care for them. There were no exceptions. Everyone went to a hospital. No exceptions. Children were left alone at home to fend for themselves. I was told by the owner of the school it was only for a few days.

I was told if I refused to go, the police would come to my home and take me by force. So I went.

It began by climbing into the back of a pick-up truck and being taken to the local government hospital. As we drove away, I remember looking at the street we lived on and wondering if I would ever see my family again. I was so scared.

At the hospital I waited for an hour in the hot sun until we were escorted to the back parking lot of the hospital. We sat on plastic chairs and waited more. No one ever let us know what we were doing or what we would be doing next. We just sat.

Finally I was taken to have my blood pressure checked and given a chest x-ray. I was so very scared and stressed, I noticed that my blood pressure was 188 over something. The technicians laughed at that.

Then we waited. We were divided into 2 groups and were told to get into a van. No one ever told us where we were going or what to expect. I tried asking, but no one ever would give me an answer. I was just blown off and told to get in the van.

We drove and drove and drove. We left the city and drove to the next city. Then we drove through that city. We finally arrived at a defunct makeshift hospital very far from home. It was really gross. The walls were dirty and beds were dirty, I even found bugs in my bed. The entire room was indoor/outdoor. Open windows and no screens. The bathroom did not have soap and was full of cockroaches. There were cockroaches in our sleeping room as well. We were put into this room and the doors were locked behind us. No one spoke to us. No one explained anything to us.

After a few hours someone got on a loudspeaker and spoke some instructions in Thai. I figured out by watching everyone else that we were to take our own temperature, blood pressure, and pulse ox and report it to the loudspeaker. One man was very sick. He had come with bags of adult diapers, but no one was coming to help him. The other patients had to try and get his vitals. He was unable to walk or feed himself. After about 24 hours he was taken someplace else.

My first night was the worst. I was in so much pain. I had a migraine so bad I could not even think. I was crying so loudly I eventually got the attention of the loudspeaker people. I called them the loudspeaker people because I never saw another human. It took a while, but I was able to communicate my problems and they got me some pills. I didn’t know what they were and I didn’t care. They unlocked our prison door, shoved them in, and locked the door again. I gobbled them up like candy.

The next day I was able to talk to a human over the phone. I asked when I could go home and they told me 6 days. Just a few days had increased to 6 days. I was devastated. I started emailing with the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok. The embassy cannot interfere with any Thai law and the Thai government had made mandatory hospitalization for everyone a law by emergency decree. However, the Thai government did promise not to keep any U.S. citizens in horrible field hospital conditions. I sent a few pictures and they were able to move me to a better place. I had still not seen another human. I was let out of the room and someone shouted directions to the van from across a field. I was moved back to the original hospital in town where I started. They tried to make me feel bad, they told me they had to move someone else to make room for me, but when I arrived there were about 50% vacant beds. Another lie.

Somehow just being closer to my family was better. I soon realized the only time they communicated anything to me was when they lied.

It was while speaking with someone from the U.S Embassy that I learned my hospitalization would be for 2 weeks. It went from a few days, to 6 days, to 2 weeks, no exceptions. I had been lied to so many times. They just wanted to shut me up so badly that they lied to me over and over again. I was devastated. I have never cried so much and so hard in my life as I did in the time I was in this situation. I mean real gut wrenching sobs.

Meanwhile back at home, my husband was in bad shape. He was very stressed and scared. My son, who was already very thin and had not been eating well, was even worse. He was scared.

At this point school had been moved online. My husband was at home teaching and my son was learning online. My husband was trying to manage it all and keep my spirits up and not let me know how bad things were.

The rest of my time in the hospital was better, but not great. We were all in a large room with 24 beds. Every night the nurses passed out Lorazepam to everyone. It was the only way anyone slept.

While I stayed in the hospital I had good days and bad days. On a good day I only cried once or twice. On a bad day I had full blown meltdowns, full body sob sessions with the most agonizing cries. I made everyone around me uncomfortable. I would spiral out of control. My fears and emotions would take control and I would go on a journey of fear and stress. I can’t really describe it. It was kind of like a panic attack, anxiety attack, and unreasonable fear rolled into one. I logically knew that some of my fears were not realistic, but logic had no effect on me or my mental health. Just trying to describe it is making me want to vomit.

I posted many times on Facebook and Twitter chronicling my experience and how I was feeling. I described how I was feeling and I received a lot of support from friends. Some friends I had lost touch with since our move across the globe, reached out and were an invaluable support system. Some Thai friends were begging me to stop posting on Facebook. I think they were embarrassed by their own government. They tried very hard to keep my experience a secret.

My mother and I, it’s safe to say, we do not have a good relationship and never have, was my worst critic. Right or wrong, she was my mother and I still sought her support. At one of my worst moments, I was sobbing and unable to control my destructive thoughts, I received a message from her. It went something like this: You are embarrassing yourself, you are acting like a child, no one wants to see this, and pull your shit together. At my lowest moment all I wanted to hear from my mother was, I’m sorry you’re going through this and I hope you feel better. I didn’t think I could feel worse, but I was wrong. I did not speak to her again for over a year when my brother called to tell me her health was failing.

For meals I wasn’t given Thai food, which I love, I was given “American standard” meals that consisted mostly of hot dogs. Hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As per usual, no one asked if I’d prefer this meal, it was just given to me. I would look around the room at the other food people were eating, it looked much better than hot dogs. It became a bit of fun in an otherwise dark place. I began filming unboxing videos of my meals for friends on Facebook. It was kind of the highlight of my day and friends seemed to get a kick out of it.

There were a few people that became very ill. One old man was in the worst shape. 3 times a day nurses would change his diaper and hand feed him. I realized he couldn’t reach his water, and he was so thankful to me for just making sure he had a water bottle in his bed so he could drink when he wanted. At one point he had fallen out of bed and the other patients had to pick him up and put him back. No nurses ever came to help or check, they only came at meal times. He did not receive any decent medical care while he was in our room. Finally he was taken someplace else. Probably to die.

Another time while I slept in a Lorazepam induced stupor, I heard what sounded like a barking seal or animal. I heard it for a long time before I fully woke from my coma. A poor man had been coughing for so long and so consistently. There was nothing we could do for him. He was just allowed to continue to suffer. His temperature was very high and his pulse ox was low. He continued that way until they finally took him away a day later.

One day the nurses gave us brooms and mops. We were expected to clean our rooms, bathrooms, and change our sheets. I was so angry about this. Irrationally angry. I was locked away against my will, forced into a hospital I did not need, and now you expected me to clean?

3 times a day we all were called to the front of the room and we took our own vitals and showed them to a monitor. I did get to talk to a doctor once via a zoom call. He just asked how I was. He did not tell me anything or give me any information. I was x-rayed again and to this day, I have no idea if my x-rays showed anything or not. No one communicated anything to me. Ever.

Occasionally one of the patients would meet their 2 week quota and would get to go home. We were always happy that someone gained their freedom.

Some people tried to tell me it wasn’t that bad, but I don’t think anyone gets to tell you how you are supposed to feel. Especially how you are supposed to feel when going through something so difficult. Maybe for them it isn’t a big deal. Maybe they are not afraid they are going to die. Maybe they are not leaving their very attached little boy behind or their distressed husband.

One day I came across an official Thai letter while scrolling Twitter or Facebook that stated if a patient was asymptomatic that they could go home after 10 days. It took a lot of persistence from inside and out. My husband and other people were pressuring them from the outside and I was persistently pestering them from the inside, but it was finally agreed that I could go home after 10 days. I couldn’t believe it. In fact, I refused to believe it until it happened. As is usual in Thailand, people like to lie to you and tell you what you want to hear just to get you to leave them alone. As was evidenced by the few days/6 days/2 weeks, not to mention the numerous other times I have had to deal with Thai bureaucracy.

I did in fact get to go home after 10 days. I never received any medical care other than the migraine medication one time and Lorazepam, neither of which I would have needed except for my forced stay. I never received another Covid test and I never had any symptoms. I was required to isolate myself at home for 2 more weeks.I was also required to write a thank you card for the doctors for their excellent medical care. I would disagree that anyone got any care, but I wrote it anyway.

Thai people are stoic. They never show emotion, it’s the land of smiles and everyone smiles. They do what their government says and don’t complain, they don’t cry, they don’t get angry, at least they never show it. Just smile through it all.

I, however, am not Thai. I have spent all my life in the United States. I am used to certain freedoms. Freedoms that had not been challenged anywhere we traveled until there was a global pandemic.

This experience broke me. Thailand broke me. I used to be a strong woman. I could get anything done, conquer any mountain. I moved our family across the world! Now I was beaten. I felt and acted like a beaten dog. I cowered in the corner, I was afraid to move or I would draw attention to myself. I was afraid.

We spent the entire summer in lockdown, depression, and loneliness, too scared to upset the powers that be lest they lock me up again.

The effects on my son were deep. He was a shell. I took him to a pediatric specialist in Bangkok. He was diagnosed with iron deficient anemia and malnutrition. He had been struggling a lot prior to my incarceration, but that really sent him over the edge. The effects of my prison sentence were detrimental to him. The next 10 months of online school were also so painful for him.

He had been struggling with online school at home and with undiagnosed Autism. The one thing I am thankful for was that my son did not test positive. He would have been taken away from me. I can’t even imagine the damage that would have done. Thailand likes to say they won’t separate children from their families, but they do. I saw it happen right in front of me. A girl, about 12 was taken from her mom in the hospital I was staying in. I cannot even begin to understand a society that would do that kind of horrible thing to a poor child.

We also couldn’t just leave. To leave you need a negative PCR test. If anyone of us tested positive, back to hospital lockup. No excuses, no questions, no explanations. I was too scared to even consider leaving. We were trapped. We stayed out of fear.

In November of 2021 a number of things happened to make us feel safe enough to leave and visit family, but we planned to return. Online school was pointless and stressful for my son, Thailand had relaxed its hospitalization requirement, my mother had become ill and we were not sure she would get better, and the U.S. was now vaccinating kids 5 and older. We decided to take the chance. My son and I left early as my husband was still teaching. We went to Latvia to visit my mother. There was a huge sense of relief being in Latvia, knowing that even if we came down with Covid, no one would lock us up or separate us.

After a brief visit, we headed to the U.S. to see my mother in law, my husband would join us there. My son was able to get vaccinated and we were boostered. We had a great visit. We ate all the foods we missed that we can’t get in Thailand. Prime rib, Reese’s peanut butter cups, BBQ ribs, to name a few. We visited friends. It was nice to be back and feel a freedom I had not enjoyed in a while.

Upon return we had to meet all the requirements set by Thailand and it was confusing and complicated, not to mention it changed frequently and at the very last minute.. It was a nightmare, but we figured it out. My husband went back first while my son and I waited the appropriate amount of time for him to get his second shot.

Once we returned to Thailand we had to quarantine for 1 night in an approved hotel where we could not leave until we got a negative PCR test. I was so nervous. We had been so careful. We wore our masks religiously and didn’t go anywhere or do anything that might put us at risk, but I was still scared. I didn’t realize how much baggage I was still carrying with me from my incarceration.

Someone came to take our samples and we waited. We got a phone call after 6 hours or so and someone said something like, okay they had the test results. I asked what they were? No answer, just they had the results. I asked, negative or positive? Then they hung up on me. What does that even mean?!?!?! So we just waited assuming someone would call and clarify soon enough.

We had been at the hotel for about 18 hours and I was still waiting for results. It was supposed to take 4-6 hours. Finally I called and someone told me that there was a problem and they have to do the test again. My anxiety was immediately kicked into overdrive.

Second swab was taken, but only from me, they didn’t need my son. At this point I still didn’t know if my son’s test was negative or positive. I had to argue with them. For some reason they didn’t want to tell me my son’s results, but eventually I was told he was negative.

So we continued to wait. The hotel called me and asked me to pay another night. I just couldn’t cope anymore. No one was trying to get the results to my test. I didn’t want to stay, I wanted to leave. I broke down and cried and struggled to communicate the frustration. I was trapped again. The horrible cries and sounds I was making scared me. It was like I was back in that hospital and my emotions were spiraling out of control again. I was trying to communicate that I needed the results. If it was negative, I would leave right away. If it was positive, I was going to have to go to another place, location unknown, so, no, I did not want to pay for another night because of your incompetence. I knew they couldn’t kick me out, because Thai law says I am not allowed to leave until I have a negative PCR test.

Finally at 1am they called to tell me my test was negative. Well, they didn’t say that, they said they had my paperwork. What does that mean? I had to beg them for the actual word, negative.

I immediately booked a flight and packed. By 3am my son and I were in a cab heading to the airport for a very early flight home to southern Thailand.

It was just another sign that I was not ok.

A year later, I’m still not ok. I am struggling daily with depression. I want to leave. I want to leave so badly, but on the other hand, my husband loves his job and my son is at an amazing school getting the support he needs for his Autism. It’s not that easy to move again. It’s exhausting moving. Selling or giving away everything you own. Trying to fit everything into a 30kg suitcase. I never get to have keepsakes or things that have meaning to me. I have to cull everything down to necessities. My poor son has to get rid of so many things he loves simply because of space or weight. We have a car, and cats, and we bought a TV and a sofa I love. We mostly have a good life here, albeit our city has very few expats and it’s quite lonely and difficult to meet or make friends and I’m depressed most of the time.

The idea of having to buy all new pots, pans, beds sheets, pillows, silverware, spatulas, and cheese graters is exhausting. I’ve done it 3 times and I’m so tired of moving. I always thought moving and buying all new things would be fun. I would be able to buy exactly the things I like and need. It’s not fun. I can never find what I want or like. I end up with what I can find and what is cheap because I’m probably going to give it all away again.

There are positives here too, outside of the school. Those beautiful white sand beaches that you see in Thailand tourist brochures, we get to vacation there several times a year. We are a short drive from the local beach and we enjoy a low cost of living.

But I’m depressed all the time. I know I need therapy, but it’s too expensive. If I hear another ad for Better Help trying to convince people that mental health is important, I may explode. No kidding. I don’t need to be convinced, I need money!

I don’t know if moving will solve my problem, but what I do know is that I have never experienced anything like this anywhere but here.