A Halloween Tale: Covid-19 and The Amazing Recovery of Todd Lamprun

Todd Lamprun knew that he was one of the lucky ones. Three weeks ago and for four weeks before that he had been lying in a hospital bed wired to a myriad of life-support machines and monitors in the Covid-19 intensive care unit of Feelgood Hospital. For a while it had been touch and go but now he found himself in a room on a side-ward regaining his strength and coming to terms with his close encounter of the Covid kind. He felt physically weak, encountered spells of confusion and was prone to moments of forgetfulness. Periodic mood swings enveloped him. These ranged from anger at not knowing how he had contracted the disease in the first place, a deep sadness at not having had any visitors since his admission to hospital and moments of joy at the realisation that he was still alive against all the odds. His daily routine revolved around a morning visit from the consultant occasionally accompanied by a student doctor, the duty-nurse who would take his blood pressure and temperature and enter these on the pages affixed to a clipboard that hung at the foot of the bed, a forty-five minute session with a physiotherapist he silently referred to as Tess the Torturer and the shift auxiliary who brought him his meals and garnished them with stale tales that lost their humour after the second telling. Then again he couldn't be sure if he had heard the tales before or if it was just his mind re-running an endless loop of post-Covid charades. Some days he thought the characters who entered his room and tended him emerged from the pages of a book. On other days they were actors in a film or stars from a television program he had some vague recollection of having seen in a previous existence.

It was 10.00 a.m. on the Monday of the last week in October when the consultant - Mr. Hope - knocked on the door of the room, gave his customary look through the glass panel and entered.

"Good morning Mr Lamprun. How are we today? I trust we slept well."

It always annoyed Todd to be referred to as 'we'. It made him feel as if he was hiding some young nurse under the bedsheets and they were being asked for a collective opinion on how they had enjoyed the start of the day.

"We are very well, thank you," replied Todd.

Mr. Hope unclipped the chart from the foot of the bed, took careful note of the entries that had been made over the weekend and announced, "Well, I think we have reached a stage where we can consider allowing you to return home to continue your recovery. We will monitor your progress until the end of the week and I will ask the physiotherapist to increase your exercise time by fifteen minutes a day."

Todd flinched at the thought of the additional pummelling, bending and stretching at the hands of the indomitable Tess but decided not to show his anguish for fear it would lead to a lengthier spell in the hospital accompanied by yet more torture. "That's wonderful news. Thank you. Much as my care here has been excellent there is nothing quite like home."

"Indeed," replied Mr. Hope, replacing the clipboard on the rail of the bed. "Let's aim for Saturday then. That's the 31st - Halloween - so you will be home in time for a bit of tricking or treating." He gave a forced laugh before continuing, "I don't think there is any need for me to call in every day any more but I will pop back later in the week to check on progress. Do you have any questions before I leave."

"Actually, I do. I know you've told me before but I forget so easily."

"Don't worry, your memory will improve with time."

"Can you please remind me of the treatment I was given while I was in intensive care?"

Mr. Hope sat on the edge of the bed carefully avoiding the tubes and cables that still connected Todd to various pieces of equipment. "You were given oxygen to assist with your breathing and to raise your blood oxygen levels and we administered Remdesivir shortly after you were admitted and Dexamethasone a couple of weeks later. Remdesivir disrupts the ability of the virus to reproduce and Dexamethasone is a steroid that calms the body’s immune system."

"I see," replied Todd trying to sound knowledgable.

"We were not entirely convinced that these drugs were going to be enough so we also treated you with a rather new and experimental treatment," continued Mr. Hope.

Todd raised his eyebrows indicating a desire for further information.

"We infused your blood with plasma taken from a recovered Covid patient. This plasma contains antibodies that help you fight the virus."

"Whose plasma was it?" asked Todd.

"We have absolutely no idea. The drug company supplies us with the plasma and no-one, except possibly the drug manufacturer, would ever know whose plasma was used. It could have come from anyone, anywhere in the world. Anyway, why should that interest you? The main thing is it did the job and that's probably why you recovered so well in the end."

"I don't suppose it does matter. It's just that it makes you think that you now have part of someone else circulating in your bloodstream."

"I guess you could think of it like that but that is something to be grateful for. Without their contribution you may not have survived."

"I've been a blood donor all my life," said Todd proudly. "I have often wondered how my blood has been used. Did it ever help anyone? Did it ever save someone's life? It's a strange feeling to think that part of what makes me who I am is circulating in someone else. Have they in some small way inherited some characteristics from me?"

Mr. Hope laughed rather condescendingly, "I'm sure it doesn't work like that. I don't think your blood can influence the character of someone else."

"I guess I've often wondered about transplant patients. If you receive the heart of someone else does it change who you were before. How many body parts do you have to swop before you are fundamentally no longer the same person? Am I the person I was before, now that I have someone else's plasma and antibodies coursing through my veins?"

Mr. Hope stood up, "I really think we are stretching our imagination here Mr Lamprun. You are alive and recovering well. Your treatment has done the job and as long as you continue to improve or at least don't deteriorate then you will be home on Saturday. I suggest you call your wife and give her the good news. She hasn't been able to see you in person for two months."

The consultant left and the door closed slowly behind him. Todd heard Mr. Hope talk in muffled tones to the nurses in the corridor outside his room followed by the sound of laughter.

The remainder of the week passed as Todd had anticipated. It was the usual round of blood pressure tests, temperature taking, chart filling, dull food on trays accompanied by more uninteresting stories and the increasingly torturous attention of the mighty Tess. Todd wondered if her ancestors had once served in the Gestapo.

Saturday 31st October came and Todd's wife sent him a text to say she would be waiting outside the front door of the hospital with the car as soon as he called to say he had been discharged and was on his way. It was one of the auxiliary nurses who approached his room at 8.00 a.m. carrying a tray in both hands on which lay his choice of breakfast cereal, a small jug of milk, a teapot and accompanying cup and saucer. A separate plate held two slices of toast and a portion of scrambled eggs. The nurse faced away from the door, pushed it open with her back and turned into the room. As the door closed behind her there was the most horrendous scream, accompanied by a crash and the sound of breaking crockery as the tray hit the floor. The door flung open and an ashen-faced nurse raced into the corridor, still screaming as she bolted into the distance. The other nurses at the nearby nursing station looked aghast and raced towards Todd's room. Before they got there and before the door had closed behind the terrified auxiliary, it swung back open and Todd staggered into the corridor. He was holding on tightly to the handles of his walking frame. Blood dripped from the tubes still attached to his arms and he was dragging a stand of fluid-filled bags behind him. The nurses froze in their tracks.

"Oh my God!" screamed the senior, duty nurse as she took several, rapid steps backwards.

Todd's head was a huge, orange pumpkin. It looked as if it had had several applications too many of a bad, fake tan product and had been pumped full of water until it had swollen to twice its normal size. As he turned to face the nurse a single, autumnal orange-red leaf that went from one side of his head and swept over to the other flapped up and down.

"Your head Mr Lamprun! It's... it's... a giant pumpkin!" exclaimed the terrified nurse.

Todd looked her in the eye. His little puffy lips opened and he replied, "Yes it is nurse. In fact its the biggest pumpkin I've ever seen. I doubt anyone has ever seen a bigger pumpkin... I mean ever... anywhere. It's completely off the scale. Let me tell you, I know everything there is to know about pumpkins. Nobody knows more about pumpkins than me. Even the doctors are amazed at how much I know about pumpkins. They say this is the most amazing pumpkin they have ever seen!"

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