A week ago I uploaded a video to YouTube with the same title as heads this post, although at YouTube I did not use the quotation marks. I honestly do not know what I had. Pneumonia has always been with us and is very serious, so my suspicion is that the hospital added the term "COVID" to my condition in order to capitalize on whatever bonus or bounty they likely get from the government ─ maybe even on a daily basis ─ for every "COVID" patient on their books.
I am still non-GMO ─ that is, I remain unjabbed with the unsafe and ineffective genetic experiment. However, my wife and her two sons all accepted the jab last Summer / Fall. She did so for employment (Thai restaurant) purposes, as did her youngest son (aged 24) who worked in a bank. The oldest lad (27 years old) is a brawny gym rat who rides a Harley ─ he got jabbed just so he could keep attending his gym to easily maintain his musculature. His employer ─ Tree Island Steel ─ did not require its employees to have the 'Kill Shot'.
It is very possible that something any one of the three may have shed got me so damned sick ─ maybe even breathing the same air at night in bed with my wife brought me down. Since my hospitalization, though, she set up another room as my bedroom, so I no longer have that level of exposure.
Anyway, this is the description that I gave the three-minute YouTube video ─ the description is over 4,000 words long, so you may choose to skip it after reading the first couple of paragraphs and go directly to the video down below. The first 1½ minutes of the video show me shirtless a month after getting sick last October; the last 1½ minutes of the video show me wearing just a pair of gym shorts just over a week ago.
I merged two very short video clips ─ the first from November 2021 showing me almost a month after getting released from hospital where I had been getting treated for what they diagnosed was "COVID pneumonia".
I lost so much weight that the last time I was that light, I was a schoolboy back in the 1960s. Perhaps I should mention that in height, I am not quite five feet and 11 inches.
Talking was difficult due to my weak lungs; and as is very apparent, I was extremely uneasy ─ I am uncomfortable being on camera, but I was keenly self-conscious about how dreadful I knew I looked. That was why I was mostly nervous. In fact, after I recorded and saved that video clip, I never played it back because I did not want to see how pathetic I was. The first time I took a look at it was yesterday (August 4, 2022) ─ I didn't even know if the recording was successful.
The first clip finishes abruptly (I forget why ─ maybe my camera ran out of power); then the second video clip takes over and I present the transformation that I put a lot of effort into achieving in the ensuing months. Undressed and on an empty stomach, I probably weigh around 190 pounds ... or maybe the low 190s.
I would like to note that after I succeeded in getting myself released from the hospital (I suspect that they were likely getting a daily bounty for each COVID patient), I never received a follow-up call from anyone checking on how I was doing. And I think that there were only two occasions in the hospital when I had the attentions of a physiotherapist, for I had become so weak that not only was walking impossible for me, but I could not even stand on my own ─ even if I was supporting myself.
So apart from those two physiotherapist visits to assess how much I had deteriorated, I had to force myself to learn again how to first stand; and then to use my legs again. I did this all in my room ─ I never left whatever room I was confined to, for I was moved to several different ones over the course of my stay.
The only time I ever left my final room on my own was when I was having to prove to a doctor and his nursing aide that I had sufficient mobility to merit being allowed to go home. They took me into the hallway, hooked up to a mobile monitor, and a face mask was placed over my mouth for the first time ─ I never had to wear one in my rooms.
Then while the nurse accompanied me, I had to shuffle up and down the hallway while the nurse read out monitor readings to the nearby doctor. With my damaged lungs, my mouth was wide open and I was sucking as much air as I could through the damned mask.
I was unstable, for I had not walked for any kind of distance before; and a couple of times I started to lose my balance, but I think I disguised this.
I even considered giving up, for I thought that I might pass out ─ it took all of the will I had to keep enduring this walk. It was only after I spent several minutes walking up and down the hallway that the doctor gave the okay that I had passed their mobility test.
So I was returned to my room and told that I could have someone come and take me home. There was some talk of me being issued a portable oxygen tank to take home.
I phoned home and my eldest stepson said that he would come and get me. So I dressed, including wearing the heavy winter coat I originally had on, plus the boots that I had also worn.
And I waited. None of the staff who had come to know me came to see me off. My stepson finally phoned to say he was parked outside, so I got up and started walking in my boots and full cold-weather wear.
I knew I was on the Seventh Floor, but I had no idea how to get off. I passed by the nursing station in my area, but it was abandoned. How come no one was wheeling me out of the place, I wondered? Isn't that supposed to be hospital protocol everywhere?
I wandered on very carefully and slowly, and came across another nursing station in a different area that had three staff. They looked at me quizzically, probably wondering who this fully-clothed character was wandering around the floor.
When I explained that I had been released (I had the paperwork), and that I was trying to find my way out, one nurse started to direct me to the elevators; but then she took pity and decided to escort me.
And off she went ─ she almost ran away on me, walking was so difficult for me. But she did get me to elevators ─ the sort that are operated by staff key cards.
She activated the elevator and programmed it for the Ground Floor, and said that when the doors opened, I would immediately see the doors to the outside fairly nearby.
And this was so. I got outside into a cold rain and breathed real fresh air for the first time in days.
I was free.
Then once home, it was entirely up to me to figure out how to rehabilitate myself, for I was not given any guidance from the hospital ─ as I said, no one even saw me off.
But obviously I made it.
