Six weeks ago, my life was changed forever. I got one of those texts that you never want to get: “Kira, I had a heart attack. I’m in the ICU…”. I got this text at 2:30 AM on February 19th, but in reality, I woke up to it the next morning. This text was from my best friend Tam. We are basically attached at the hip. He is one of the first people I met when I came to New York City ten years ago, and almost every memory I have since involves him. If you know me, you know Tam. If you know Tam, you know me. We introduce ourselves as twins, and have worn identical backpacks for years now, which doesn’t work out as well for him because I always destroy my backpacks first.

After seeing the text, I immediately got myself together, figured out which hospital he was at, and got over there as quickly as possible. According to the doctor, he had a massive heart attack and needed to be on life support. It was worse than I imagined. And two days later he actually got worse. He needed to be on four different forms of life support and needed to be heavily sedated. I later learned this was so extreme because he had a genetic predisposition to having a weak heart, something no one knew. Everyday was a new fear and more questions, but we were lucky — he is in one of the best hospitals in the nation. We were told many of the other hospitals don’t have the forms of life support this one has. For now it was a waiting game to see if his heart would heal. So we waited.

Unfortunately, at the same time we were optimistically waiting for Tam to recover, the world was falling apart around us. We knew COVID-19, or the Coronavirus as we referred to it back then, was a danger, but it was just starting to hit New York. People were just starting to get more and more nervous on the trains. A person coughed near me and ten people would jump up and move to the other side of the car. I knew I was in danger of getting the virus, which as a fit 30 something person I wasn’t too worried about, from what we knew at the time, but I knew I was visiting the ICU every day. I knew they were already pumping fluids out of Tam’s lungs, and he was already at risk for pneumonia.

Things escalated rapidly, and just as I was getting increasingly more concerned about infecting my friend, the hospitals started to get wise to the situation. The last time I was able to see him was March 11th. As I went in, the hospital staff, who normally ignores me, since I clearly look like I know where I’m going at this point, came up to me asking me to show ID and directed me to a station where I needed to verbally prove I was in good health before risking any of their patients. They were also restricting the number of visitors to one, at this point. I got to his floor, and again things had changed. Normally they’d just nod as I go in, they were used to seeing my face at this point. This time they jumped up and down to let me know I needed to sign in and out, which I happily complied with. He was tired, but I was very happy to see him. I could see the writing on the wall, and I knew this might be the last time I would be allowed in for a little bit.

A couple of days later, I got a cough. So, even if I was able to see him, I would never risk him or anyone else in the hospital. When I get stressed, I get sick. I haven’t been tested; so, I don’t know if I have the virus. I have had a dry cough for almost a month now. It doesn’t matter. I would never risk Tam. Instead, I decided to start my self imposed social distancing. The hospital still let his sister visit him for about another week, and then they fully closed their doors.

At this point in time, we knew Tam would most likely need a heart and kidney transplant. The doctors kept trying to take him off forms of life support, but his heart just wasn’t strong enough. This is not an ideal time to get a transplant. The hospitals are starting to shut down. “Elective” surgeries are being postponed, and, let me tell you, they have a very broad definition of elective. Tam needed a mechanical heart pump put into his heart — this would give him the freedom to get out of the hospital and hide away at home till everything blows over. The doctors wanted to do a less invasive version, the NuPulse, but because it wasn’t 100% FDA approved, his insurance turned it down.

We are in the middle of a pandemic, there is a less invasive procedure that can be done, with less recovery time, which can get him out of the hospital faster as Governor Cuomo is asking for more and more beds for COVID-19 patients, and his insurance turned the doctors down, not once, but twice. Just think, Tam could be at home resting right now, freeing up a much needed bed for a COVID-19 victim, if only his insurance company made this choice.

Instead, Tam’s doctors were forced to set him up for a full open heart surgery, to put in a mechanical pump. But again, we hit a snag.. A few days before the surgery, he came down with a blood infection. There is no way you can have open heart surgery with a blood infection. Instead, you have to wait ten days for that to clear. Normally, ok that sucks, but now we already have thousands of COVID-19 cases hitting the hospitals. The doctors and nurses are rapidly running out of supplies. Tam’s nurses are all wearing masks now and are desperately telling me about how concerned they are with the increasing flood of people and lack of resources.

Tam is on the transplant ICU floor of the hospital. This is the most delicate of the most delicate. This is the last floor they want to infect. I am told this is the last floor that has yet to be moved.. Well, that didn’t last long.

One evening, Tam and I are coming up with a plan to keep him safe and speak with a social worker about his options; the next morning, with no warning at all, he calls me to tell me they are packing him, and the rest of his ICU floor, up to make room for more COVID-19 cases. The most fragile of the most fragile people were being moved to what used to be a large temporary recovery room, now makeshift ICU area, with substantially less resources. We have a pandemic going on, all those people need to be helped, and every hospital on every day has emergency and ICU cases and lives they are already doing their best to save. Tam’s situation just became a lot more complicated, and now we have bigger issues than talking to a social worker.

The hospital is trying to consolidate all the uninfected people into one large room. Now nurses who only had one or two ICU patients are stretched much thinner. Instead of a room, Tam now has a slot, which only separates him from others via a curtain. Everyday, there is a new emergency where doctors and nurses are heard screaming to save another life. This does not feel safe. They want to push him out of the hospital ASAP. The plan is to push him out the door with an IV drip and a LifeVest — basically a vest that will kick start his heart if it goes into arrest. A few weeks ago, I asked the doctors if he could go home like this and they told me it was less than ideal. The drug is a doozy and something he would not want to be on very long. Also, the drip requires home care. The heart pump is sounding more and more like an “elective” surgery, and being dismissed as an option.

However, it doesn’t matter, his insurance is trying to be difficult again. They don’t want to cover home care. They would rather keep him in a hospital that is ever increasingly overflowing with COVID-19 victims. You know that list of issues that puts you at higher risk for complications with the virus, well, Tam checks off most of them. This might be for the best though; maybe we can get him back on track to get the heart pump before leaving the hospital.

I feel there is a lot to take from this ongoing experience. First, I’m very lucky. For the most part, since the doors have closed, I have been able to video chat or call Tam. But I can not tell you the level of panic I feel when I haven’t heard from him and I need to make a dreaded call to his nurse. At any point in time something terrible could have happened and I just haven’t been informed. If I can see he hasn’t been online for a day, I quickly worry for the worst. Also, while he was on his original floor, I could easily reach his nurses. Everyone was very nice and knew me. Now he is in mass mayhem. I have tried to call his nurses several times only to be put on hold indefinitely, waiting over 20 minutes each time before giving up.

Second, insurance companies in the United States only complicate things. The truth is that he has been out of work now for a month and a half, due to his heart attack, and, as a result, his job is trying to drop him off his insurance. Yes, now, after a massive heart attack in the middle of a pandemic. He will probably end up going on Medicaid, which is one of the best insurances in our country. I truly wonder if he would have ended up with the NuPulse if he was on Medicaid from the beginning, and if he would already be out of the hospital, in a relatively stable way, making room for COVID-19 patients, until everything can blow over.

Third, people need to take this seriously, and stay home — flatten the curve. Because the number of people who will be affected are not just of the people with COVID-19. It is also the hundreds of thousands of people who have to go to the emergency room every year. It is the people who are trying to recover, but are not given all the options and time they require because of this wave of need.

And fourth, we need to be grateful for what we have. We have an incredible group of heroes going to work every day right now, from medical staff to grocery store workers and delivery men and women. We have the internet so we can video chat with our loved ones and even work out together. People suffering from the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic were not so lucky. I am thankful for every call I get with Tam, my family, and all my friends.

Now, go video chat with your loved ones. Hug the ones you are living with. I will happily shelter in place as long as I need to if it keeps everyone a little safer, and saves more lives. I haven’t met your grandparents, or your loved ones, but I know they are worth saving and keeping safe.

An Inside View Of NYC’s ICU, During The Mounting COVID-19 Crisis