Almost Seems Like A Dream…Or A Nightmare By Louise Applebome

By Louise Applebome

What a difference a year makes.

In November 2024, I set out on a European odyssey. 

My first stop was London, meeting up with friends and family.

The second leg of the trip was in Venice for a weeklong yoga retreat. 

Admittedly, I was a bit anxious about flying abroad, particularly in light of the insular lifestyle I had embraced from the onset of the COVID-19 epidemic. I had become far from an intrepid traveler. Plus, I would be flying alone, and by then, at age 70, no longer possessed the confidence to navigate my way with my usual competence and ease. My “irrational” fears even weakened my immune system and lowered my resistance, so that I endured several months of illness earlier in the year, including a mild bout of COVID and intestinal distress, leading up to my trip. So I was not full of vim and vigor, venturing out. 

(My doubts about my ability to make my way through airports, etc., solo, were bogus, however. I’m a logistics pro by training, and finding my way was a breeze…even or especially at age 70.)

It turned out members of the London party had COVID and/or other respiratory illnesses. But I remained healthy that first week.

But toward the end of the Venice week, I developed my own respiratory issues and sore throat. A cough and congestion worsened, and by the last day, before flying back to Dallas, I was in major distress. 

But I had to get home. 

So I made my way on the final frigid, damp early November morning in Venice to the Marco Polo airport. The transport was complicated by a dense fog that prevented the usual water taxi from getting me directly from the hotel to the airport. After prolonged delays, stranded in that damp, cold, alone, I arrived at the airport and made my way to Heathrow in London. (There are no direct flights from Venice to Dallas, or there weren’t any last year at this time.) Because of having splurged on a premium seat, I had access to “VIP” lounges, food, and more. So, at least as my health continued to plummet, I was in very comfortable and lush surroundings at the London airport.

And, ultimately, I garnered the strength to get onto my flight and into my somewhat private pod to make the nearly-11-hour passage back to Texas. 

Thank goodness I had invested in the upgrade. Woe would it have been to anyone seated next to me in coach on that flight home as my condition worsened. My breathing became more and more labored, making it difficult to lie down and/or to sleep. And, my cough and wheezing were persistent. 

By the time we landed in Dallas, I had to request a wheelchair because I had neither the strength nor breath to take two steps on my own, let alone navigate the maze through customs and baggage claim to the curbside to find a ride-share. 

Eventually, I was deposited into an Uber and made my way home. Forthwith, I dumped my baggage at the front door, headed out the back door to the garage, and drove myself to a nearby emergency room about ten minutes away.

(Color me insane; in hindsight, it would have been wiser to have called an ambulance or a friend.)

But my intention was to get immediate relief  (so that I could breathe) and to go back home. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with the RSV virus, a fever, strep, and pneumonia, and admitted to the hospital where I remained for a week…hooked up to oxygen most of that time, as well as IV antibiotics and steroids. 

And I’m an asthmatic, so respiratory issues can escalate quickly. Bacterial and viral infections can really add up to trauma. That’s what happened in my case. 

Although pranayama, yoga breathing practices, have served me well over the years, they were unable to come to my rescue this time. 

I paint a rather dismal picture.

But, in reality, once they dosed me with steroids in the emergency room, I was able to breathe again. “Hallelujah!”

So I was no longer desperate. 

And, after the previous week of “suffocatingly” constant “companionship” with my fellow yogis, and a very full schedule in Venice, I welcomed the peace and quiet and solitude of the private hospital room I ended up in.

I learned early on that the baked sweet potatoes were edible. 

So were Rice Crispies with non-dairy milk. 

Honestly, a full year later, I’m having trouble remembering anything else that was edible. But, somehow, I managed. For the most part, the food was an abomination.

(Sheesh! Wouldn’t one expect a hospital to excel in serving healthy and delicious food?) But I understand that the sheer volume of the food service required must present umpteen challenges.   

On the brighter side, the nursing care earned kudos. A revolving door of nurses arrived at my room at all hours of the day and night to poke and to prod. For the most part, they were kind and patient and catered to my getting well and to my needs. I had no compunction about pushing the call button often to keep those warm blankets coming. 

Consider this: A few months ago, actress Diane Keaton, 79, died, somewhat unexpectedly, from bacterial pneumonia. 

I had that, among other things.

So, the outcome for me could have gone differently. 

And a year later, I’m the picture of health.

Don’t think I don’t appreciate that fact more than ever, knowing that one year ago, it could have gone either way. 

 I developed asthma as a young child but have learned to manage it as an adult. So, although it proved to be an enormous liability in contracting the RSV virus, it rarely raises its ugly head. Yes, I always carry a rescue inhaler (that just makes good prophylactic sense), but it often expires long before the medicine is used up.

A year later, I’m out for a walk before 8 a.m. almost every morning. I take yoga classes online with a favorite teacher, usually twice a week. I teach yoga classes on Zoom three days a week. And I have a steady home practice of meditation and yoga.

I also go for massages, facials, manicures, and pedicures.

Plus, my days are full with taking care of my house and yard, cooking and reading, writing, wining and dining, keeping up with friends and family, and more.

I describe each day as feeling like I’m on vacation. And each day flies by. 

I’m quite certain that my sense of a daily Edenic lifestyle is due, in part, to the bullet I dodged last November when I got to leave the hospital [alive] and recovered completely. 

And I do have a souvenir to remind me of an ordeal I would probably prefer to forget. It’s a small red scar under my nose. It’s left over from a pesky cold sore that accompanied my other symptoms last year. 

It could freak me out, but it’s not that bad. 

I prefer to wear it as a totem of survival, agency, and pluck.

Yes, I dodged a bullet. But the experience has underscored the value of perspective and point of view. While friends and family were fretting about my time in the hospital, I was enjoying the pampering and solace and found serenity.

One can meditate in a hospital bed just as well as poised on a yoga mat. 

I made the most out of my “captivity.”

And now I’m trying to capitalize on being vigorous and hale.

Breathing well, being pain-free, and being robust are not to be taken for granted. 

More good news: Upon returning to the U.S. last year, I never had to deal with jet lag!  

Namasté.

Louise Applebome, 71, is a Certified Yoga Instructor in Dallas. After “retiring” from a vibrant and varied professional career, she became a yoga teacher. She teaches all her classes on Zoom right now and accepts students, young or older, from wherever they are, both geographically and in their pursuit of a yoga practice. Louise will help you stay fit and flexible, and release tension, aches & pains from the body…and the mind. Her yoga studio in Dallas is del norte yoga. You can reach out to her at [email protected].