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miserable and afraid as I did when I couldn't breathe. It felt like something was crushing me in two, compressing my chest." Her husband rushed her to Chicago's Northwestern Memorial Hospital, which had been alerted by her primary care doctor about her imminent arrival. When she got to the hospital, her oxygen sat- uration was 78/79, said Adell-O'Neal, who had seen patients on a ventilator and did not want to go through that. "They wanted to intu- bate me. But I knew that if I went on a vent, I was not coming off it." "I did so much praying," said Adell-O'Neal who focused on stay- ing alert enough to be her own advocate. She refused to sign an advance directive allowing intubation. Family members were not allowed to visit so she knew she had to advocate for herself to stay out of the ICU. Her husband was in no condition to help because he was recovering from Covid himself and taking care of her mother. He was also devastated that he brought Covid home to his wife. Once the nurses discovered that she was also an RN, Adell- O'Neal said they did everything they could to keep her out of the ICU. The critical care nurses came to the Covid unit to give her full assessments, and other nurses kept their eye on her. "When I was depressed, the nurses encouraged me," said Adell-O'Neal. She also got through her ordeal with prayer and support from her coworkers and friends. Elders from her church and family members would call and pray with her. Her manager, who sings in a church choir, would sing to her over the phone. Coworkers texted her posi- tive messages or spiritual passages every day. "They knew I couldn't talk but I could read their texts," said Adell-O'Neal. "I couldn't ask for a better group of coworkers and friends." After 12 grueling days in the hospital, she was finally discharged when her oxygen levels reached 93, a week before Mother's Day. "The nurses gave me the biggest sendoff with cowbells ringing," said Adell- O'Neal, who loved the joyful farewell which brought tears to her eyes. "I was still weak, but I wanted to get out of there. I was happy to leave." Merlin Pambuan, RN 3 St. Mary Medical Center Long Beach, Calif. merlin pambuan has always loved the challenge of working in the intensive care unit. "I have a thrill working in ICU," said Pambuan, who has been a registered nurse for more than 40 years, including 21 years as an ICU nurse at St. Mary Medical Center in Long Beach. "I love the fast pace, rapid response, code blue, very difficult patients." When Covid patients first arrived at St. Mary Medical Center in the spring of 2020, nurses were given surgical masks to care for them. Back then, N95 respirators were locked up and RNs only got them if a patient was undergoing an aerosolizing procedure. Pambuan was sometimes assigned to care for Covid patients in the ICU even though she was 65 years old and diabetic, which increased her risk for serious illness from the disease (though at the time, diabetes was not a known risk factor). "I had no choice because each nurse had to take their turn in the Covid unit," recalled Pambuan. Inevitably, given the PPE situation at the time, Pambuan and other nurses got exposed at work. As she began her quarantine, she soon experienced flu-like symptoms, diarrhea, and then felt very tired. On April 12, her daughter Shantell Pambuan insisted that she go to St. Mary's emergency depart- ment even though she did not yet have severe symptoms or breathing issues. But when she arrived at the ED, her breathing had become labored and she had a fever. Pambuan tested positive. Before Shantell took her to the hospital, she extracted a promise from her mother that she would come back home. Little did they know that this was the very beginning of her epic battle with Covid. It would be eight months before she would walk out of the hospital. Pambuan spent two days in the telemetry unit until she suddenly declined and the rapid response team rushed in. After three weeks in the ICU on high-flow oxygen, she was intubated on May 4 and cared for by her work family. She nearly died half a dozen times and Pambuan's doctor told her daughter that her mother was not getting any better and that there was no hope. But Shantell refused to believe her mother would not make it through and became her unwavering advocate. "I've lived a full life due to my mom, who has always supported me," said Shantell, who has been in a wheelchair her entire life due to cerebral palsy. Now it was Shantell's turn to support her mother, especially when she was on a ventilator and could not make decisions about her care. Every day, Shantell called the hospital several times a day for updates. Pambuan does not recall much about her time in the ICU and is grateful that she got Covid early when the ICU did not have staffing issues. "I know all the ICU nurses and they took good care of me. If my nurse was busy, they would come to my room right away. I was very lucky and feel loved." Pambuan was sedated for the first month she was on a ventilator. But once she finally tested negative, she was weaned off the sedation and her daughter Shantell could visit her. Once conscious, she realized she could not move her legs, sit up, or turn in bed. But she could move her left hand, and thought, "I will fight you, Covid." Her daughter spent nine to 10 hours at her bedside every day for the next six-and-a-half months. Pambuan also had video calls with her husband every day. In July, Pambuan finally left the ICU and was moved to teleme- try. By early September, she was finally off the ventilator but still on oxygen. The next month, she was transferred to acute rehabilita- tion, celebrating her 66th birthday in late October. "Physical 14 N A T I O N A L N U R S E W W W . N A T I O N A L N U R S E S U N I T E D . O R G J A N U A R Y | F E B R U A R Y | M A R C H 2 0 2 1 "I consider this my second life. It's a miracle."