James Vigil’s first symptom last month was a deep cough that burned his lungs. He had just recovered from a lung surgery in November after suffering a snowboarding accident.

Before the surgery, his lung capacity was near 40 percent, but the operation brought it back to 80 percent.

“If he hadn’t gone through with it and done the surgery, this could have had a very different outcome,” Carolyn Vigil, his wife, said recently. “The coronavirus would have been a lot worse for him.”

James, of Shepherdstown, West Virginia, became the first person to test positive for coronavirus in their state last month. He got it first, with a 104-degree fever, muscle aches and headaches, though most of their concern was for his lungs and breathing.

“We went to the ER three times in 10 days because of his lungs,” Carolyn said. “No one seemed to know how to take care of it. I was worried about his oxygen flow. I was scared for him, and he didn’t know how scared I was.”

Doctors gave James albuterol for the times he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Then, Carolyn started coughing and developed a headache that couldn’t be subdued no matter what she took to try and alleviate it.

“You felt like you were in a fog,” she said. “I felt like I was coming out of anesthesia. I just couldn’t clear my mind. You feel like you took a weird pill.”

They were monitored by the West Virginia Department of Health and Human Resources, which had a caseworker check in with them. They had to keep a log of temperatures to provide to the department. James’s symptoms lasted 14 days, while hers lasted about 10, Carolyn said, though it took a full 21 days for her to feel like herself again.

“It was such a hard thing for my body to fight off,” she said. “He still has a residual cough, but he’s supposedly not contagious anymore.”

Once recovered, the Vigils were tested a second time and both came back negative. After that, they scheduled an appointment to donate plasma.

“We’re trying to give back,” she said, “to give antibodies to the sick and the frontline workers, and to develop a vaccine.”

Seizing the stigma

Overall, the Vigils’ community has been overwhelmingly supportive, Carolyn said. They did find out that a neighbor with whom they were not acquainted filed a complaint with their homeowners association, saying it should have disclosed that the couple tested positive for COVID-19. Carolyn said that while the disclosure would have been a violation of their rights, the couple didn’t hide the fact that they had coronavirus and they let people know about their diagnosis when they could.

“We have seen some stigma, but it’s been somewhat minimal,” Carolyn said.

Though they were well enough and not contagious anymore — by CDC guidelines, at least — they decided to still act as though they were contagious, to ensure the safety of others.

“When people see us, you can just see the fear on their face,” Carolyn said. “We went back into quarantine.”

Winchester, Virginia’s Mark and CeCe Sieffert experienced the same thing after testing positive for the virus. They have been without symptoms for more than two weeks, but because there’s so much uncertainty as to when a person is no longer contagious, they’ve been tolerable of people’s reactions toward them.

“I think there’s so much uncertainty for what ‘recovered’ means,” Mark said. “People don’t know the details of your recovery because illness is usually private.”

The Siefferts, who also plan to donate plasma, contracted the virus March 19. Their symptoms were not severe, Mark said, as they mostly dealt with headaches, fevers and body aches. They also lost their sense of taste and smell.

“Once we noticed that, we were like, ‘Oh, this is COVID-19,'” Mark said. “I think we were fortunate having it early and in the stage of life that we’re in.”

They were some of the first in their area to contract the virus, making their experience somewhat of “a novelty,” Mark said.

“Everyone I talk to has a million questions,” he said.

Mark said in an interview Thursday that he lost a friend to coronavirus on Wednesday. He said that knowing how many lives have been lost to the virus, putting up with any sort of post-recovery stigma isn’t too great a challenge.

“Whatever stigma there is, the fact that we’ve recovered is so much better,” he said. “I’m not really afraid anymore, but I need to remember what it’s like to be afraid. I don’t have any certificate that says I’m not contagious. I have to respect that other people are afraid.”

Feeding anxiety

That fear and anxiety is very real for someone like Mindy Gladden, who lives in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia with a family that would be at high risk should they contract the virus. Gladden’s 70-year-old mother, Betty Jones, has diabetes and congestive heart failure, and both her teenage daughters suffer from autism and epilepsy.

“None of them can leave the house because they’re so afraid of getting sick,” Gladden said. “My mother has the biggest fear, with her congestive heart failure. She developed a lot of anxiety, and this feeds it.”

Her daughter Elizabeth, 19, has Type 1 diabetes and currently has gallstones. Elizabeth was supposed to have an operation to remove them at the end of March, but it was considered an elective procedure and canceled.

On top of that, Gladden has had to log more hours at Merkle Response Management Group, where she works, because it was deemed an essential business. The business is a remittance processor and data management company that services nonprofits and relief agencies.

“My role as parent and caregiver will never diminish, and the role of essential employee supporting the global pandemic response is one I fulfill with an equal amount of pride,” she said. “Still, trying to balance everybody’s needs is hard to do.”

The fear of getting sick and knowing what it could do to someone in her condition has kept Ashton Nesmith-Kochera, of Berkeley County, West Virginia, inside and socially distant. She has a chronic illness, a genetic connective tissue disorder, that’s suppressed her immune system.

“I have a lot of nutritional deficiencies, so basically I can catch things very easily,” she said. “During the winter, I usually try not to go out unless I really need to.”

This past January, she contracted the flu and was sick in bed for two weeks; she was also home for a month. Two weeks before things started shutting down as a result of the coronavirus pandemic, Nesmith-Kochera was able to get to the store.

“You really need to be prepared if you have a chronic illness like I do,” she said. “The last time I was out doing anything was around Christmas time.”

Nesmith-Kochera said she’s used to having to isolate herself because of her illness. Now, the world around her is having to self-isolate and it’s affecting their mental health, she said.

She knows, because she’s been through it before.

In 2013, Nesmith-Kochera was so ill, she left her house for only doctor’s appointments for nearly a year. She fell into depression, she said, watching her family “live their lives without me.”

“When you’re at home and can’t be active, it takes a toll on your mind and body,” she said. “I do worry that that is happening all around us.”

Jessie Rayl, of Martinsburg, West Virginia, knows all about the challenges of social distancing — some that many may take for granted. She’s legally blind, partially deaf and has been self-isolating since March 13.

After treating her for strep throat, Rayl’s doctor suggested she self-quarantine. Between the infection and her rheumatoid arthritis, “if I encountered anybody with the virus, I would be a sitting duck,” she said during a phone interview.

What she didn’t anticipate was how everyday life may change. She takes the bus to the grocery store and typically receives help from other shoppers to get what she needs.

“What I discovered with social distancing, people tended to be further away from me when they speak, and I couldn’t hear them,” she said. “If they did help, they were very reluctant, and you could feel how uncomfortable they were.”

She also ran into an issue with many businesses, like pharmacies and banks, switching to drive-thru services only, as she doesn’t drive and her family doesn’t live nearby. If she were to get sick, she also wouldn’t have anyone to drive her to a test center, and would have to rely on emergency services for care.

“For people with disabilities, it’s created even more of a distancing,” Rayl said. “People don’t want to come close and take our hands or anything like that, which is understandable.”

Rayl’s guide dog, Cheddar and her hearing alert dog, Dorrie, have been extra helpful to her. She was laid off from her job as a mental health consultant for Job Corps, but currently, she’s focusing on adequate sleep, exercise and hand hygiene.

“I try to stay in good health and try to stay positive,” she said. “I’ve always been a pretty confident person, and this has actually made me more so. Before, it was pretty easy to get somebody else to do something for me or get me something.

“Now,” she said, “I’ve learned ways of doing things myself.”