In Part 2 of this episode, we’ll share two more stories about the impact of COVID-19 across generations. Our first story is from two storytellers — science communicator Ian Haydon and his mother, retired writer and editor Judy Stokes. Their story begins when Ian calls his mother in March and reveals that he will be participating in a Phase 1 COVID-19 vaccine trial.

Our second story is from Krishna Pakala, assistant professor in the Department of Mechanical and Biomedical Engineering at Boise State University. In his story, Krishna also receives a fateful phone call — from his family back home in India, telling him that his father has been diagnosed with COVID-19.

Story Transcripts

Story 1: Ian Haydon and Judy Stokes

Ian: In early March, I learned that the world's first COVID-19 vaccine trial was happening in my city when a co-worker posted about it on Slack. He wrote, “If you've heard that a vaccine for the new coronavirus could be ready by the end of the year, this is the trial they're referring to.”

As chance would have it, my co-worker Dan who posted that message knows a thing or two about vaccines. He actually designs them. He and I both work at a biotech research institute at the University of Washington, and for my day job I manage science communications there.

The trial Dan posted about needed volunteers. Healthy adults under 55. I fit that bill, so I filled out the form he'd linked to and, to be honest, I didn't give it much thought because I never expected to hear back.

At the time, Washington State where I live had recorded fewer than 100 COVID cases, which was more than any other state in the US. This was still the early days of the pandemic. People, including me, were eating dinner together inside restaurants, and our governor, who was one of the earliest to act, was considering whether to ban gatherings of more than 250 people. None of us had any idea what was about to happen.

On March 16th, my phone rang. It was an unknown number so I ignored it, but the voicemail they left said, “Hi, this message is for Ian. I'm calling about a vaccine study you may have expressed interest in.”

I called back right away. They wanted me to come in for a screening visit. I'd need to get a physical and some blood work done to know if I was healthy enough to be admitted into the Phase I safety study.

When we hung up, I saved the number on my phone as a new contact and called it ‘VACCINE STUDY’ - all caps. I wasn't going to miss their next call, which would be in a couple days to remind me about my appointment. This was a first-in-human trial, and that does come with some risks but I was already hoping I'd get in.

For me, the decision was simple. The pandemic is happening and it's only going to get worse. If everyone decides that the risks of a vaccine trial are too great, we aren't going to get a vaccine. And here I am in a position to help, so why not me?

That night, I decided to tell my loved ones what I might be getting into.

Judy: I'm Judy, Ian's mom. Ian is the youngest of my four sons and he followed my footsteps in his interest in science and medicine and writing. When he reached out to me about the trial, I was surprised and impressed. It's a bold step to be one of the first 45 people in the world to test a coronavirus vaccine.

I asked him to tell me what mRNA was so I could try to understand how this new type of vaccine was supposed to work. It was all a bit over my head, frankly.

When I told friends, they asked me, “Aren't you going to talk him out of it?”

Actually, I didn't. Ian has no trouble making good decisions on his own. He moved to Seattle to do his graduate work in a respected lab. He has a master’s degree in biochemistry so he knows far more about this field than I do.

Ian: Mom, did you know I'd be testing the highest dose?

Judy: Nope, I was just learning what a Phase I trial involves and didn't know about testing various doses. But as your mom, I did ask for the name of someone running your trial just in case I ever had the need to talk to them.

Ian: So my first dose of the vaccine was uneventful. The injection didn't hurt and the only side effect I had was some arm pain at the injection site that came on the next day, which is pretty common for a vaccination.

My second dose was much more dramatic. The needle was painless, but later that evening I started getting symptoms. I woke up in the middle of the night nauseous with a high fever and muscle aches. That prompted my partner to call the 24-hour hotline we've been given to reach the trial doctors. They told us to go to urgent care.

When we got there, I was led into an exam room alone. She couldn't come back with me. And because I was walking in with a fever during a pandemic, the clinic had to assume that I might have COVID.

I stripped and put on a hospital gown. The doctors and nurses were wearing full PPE spacesuits. They swabbed both my nostrils twice and stuck me with needles to draw vials of blood. They also gave me IV fluids, Tylenol, and a chest x-ray. Aside from that bit of medical care, I was alone on my hospital bed. I couldn't reach my phone so I couldn't reach out to anyone.

When the clinicians were around, I asked them if they thought this was vaccine-related. They couldn't say for sure. They'd need to see the test results, but maybe.

“If it is, is it going to get worse,” I asked. “What can I expect here?”

They told me that when people do have bad reactions to a vaccine, it's usually short-lived. You might spike a fever and that fades in about a day.

I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything, but the only thing they could say for sure was that we did the right thing by coming to urgent care.

We left the clinic at 7:00 in the morning, exhausted. When I got home, I texted my mom and immediately fell asleep.

Judy: When I woke up that day, the message on my phone from Ian said, “Mom, call me when you get this. I need to talk to you.”

That's a message no parent wants to receive, and especially because I knew he was receiving his second vaccine injection.

I called right back and I texted him several times, but for a couple of hours I got no response. That really had me worried. The scenario that came into my mind were those images I had been seeing on the news. People sick with coronavirus, hospitalized and alone.

Now, I knew Ian didn't have COVID, but I had no idea what a vaccine reaction might look like. Would he get worse? Was he in real danger? What decisions might have to be made and by whom?

I called his dad. He and I explored whether we could fly to Seattle in case things got worse. This was the early days of the pandemic, remember, and I wasn't sure flights were even running. I was also glad to have that phone number for the trial contact.

I eventually reached Taylor, Ian's girlfriend in the early afternoon and got the full story of the night they had just been through. All through this time, I was questioning my initial response as my maternal protective instincts were really kicking in. Was I wrong to encourage his participation in the trial?

Ian never has faced a health scare, that may be why he was selected for the trial in the first place. But what had he and what had I opened the door to?

Ian: Mom, I'm curious what that day felt like for you? Did you think I was going to die?

Judy: I didn't know what to think. Clearly, something was going on. I understood that you had not been given the actual virus but I didn't know what might be expected from a vaccine response, especially one based on a brand new technology mRNA.

Ian, what about you? Did you, even for a minute, think you were going to die?

Ian: No, I never really felt that. I never had any trouble breathing and Taylor made the right decision to call to study doctors. I was in good hands the whole time. What happened to me was definitely unpleasant, but it seems to be within the bounds of what can happen in a Phase I safety study. No one knows whether a new drug or vaccine is going to be safe or at what dose it should be given.

Based on part of my experience, we learned that the high dose that I got was probably too high. It over-activated my immune system. So in that sense, it mattered that I got sick because it ultimately helped the trial.

Judy: So after that scary day, we spent the rest of the spring and the early part of the summer just following news of the trial. It's interesting to note that Ian had no special knowledge of how the trial was progressing. He had to check the news, just like me and everyone else.

It was reported that Phase II of the trial was underway and Phase III would also begin soon.

By coincidence, Sacramento, where I live, was chosen as a Phase III site. That coincidence gave me the instinctive feeling that I should take part. Here was the chance placed right in front of me.

I admit that I doubted I'd be an acceptable candidate. I was 68 at the time. I have heart disease and high blood pressure.

I was surprised to learn that in the later phases of a vaccine trial they actually want people like me. They need to test the vaccine on people who are vulnerable to the virus, those who may need it the most.

I pondered the dangers of a trial a bit, but I'd already been spending months being isolated and fearful at home, constantly considering the danger of getting the coronavirus. Instead of recoiling from the world in fear, this trial was a step I could take towards something. This was a positive action.

In my life, I've watched a lot of big events on TV. This small step into the vaccine trial put me into the actual events being discussed on TV. I must say that Ian was my inspiration for that. When an opportunity comes close, he believes in checking it out and then stepping on board.

Ian: I was surprised you signed up, Mon, and I'm happy you answered the call. It feels great knowing that my experience helped shape the trial a little to make it safer for you and the other volunteers. And since my trip to urgent care back in May, I've had no other issues, and I certainly have no regrets.

Judy: So my Phase III trial will run for two years. It involves 30,000 people all testing the same vaccine as Ian’s only in a much smaller dose.

It's also a double-blind placebo trial, which means half the volunteers get the vaccine and half get injected with salt water. And no one, not the volunteers nor the immediate staff working on the study, know who received which injection.

I've already received my two doses. After the first shot, I only had a sore arm. After the second, I had a sore arm plus muscle aches and some fatigue. Those reactions were gone the next day.

So what happens for the rest of the trial? The trial staff keep track of me via phone calls and data I punch into an app on my phone. I also have visits for blood draws looking to see if antibodies are being created. None of us will be exposed to the virus on purpose, so it will take time to know whether the vaccine is working. We only know that if more people in the placebo group end up catching COVID during the trial.

So I'm in it for the long haul, despite the race to have a vaccine as quickly as possible. I have learned so much about clinical trials. I learned that they take thousands of volunteers, people like me and Ian, and scores of medical staff to run them effectively. And that their deliberate pace is there for a reason to be sure the vaccine is safe and that it actually works.

I do hope my tiny part to this study, and Ian’s, become a worthwhile offering in this strange, strange time. I'm glad I'm taking part, whether or not this particular vaccine becomes one to help stop COVID-19.

Ian: I'm proud of you, Mom.

Judy: I'm proud of you too.

Story 2: Krishna Pakala

I still remember that day. I was driving and I generally do not pick up calls especially during shopping in the COVID-19 era, which is a stressful thing in itself. My mom called me more than two times, which she does not normally do. And I thought, “Maybe this is important.”

I called her immediately and she started saying, “You know, as the eldest son, I need to tell you this. That Dad is in the hospital.”

And I said, “Why?” I immediately tried to find a parking spot to speak to her calmly. I asked her what happened.

She said, “He developed pneumonia.” And both were recently tested for COVID-19 and are awaiting test results. It seems he had fever for few days and it subsided, but then he got it back.

Based on doctor's recommendation, he was advised to get a chest x-ray and get admitted to a hospital so that pneumonia can be treated. I was not expecting this to happen as I just spoke to him few days ago and he was in high spirits.

After the phone call, I came home and my partner could see the stress on my face, and said, “Did your mom call you about your dad?”

And I said, “Yes.” And I just sat in the couch staring at the wall for some time.

Getting a hospital bed right now in India is next to impossible. I was told that there are some rich people who are even buying beds in advance to use in the event they’re needed. Luckily, because of our cousin who is a doctor, helped us find a bed and told my parents they have to get there by a certain time to claim the bed.

I learned from my mom how they got to the hospital, and I can still picture that in my head. Heavy rain, an Uber wait time of three-plus hours, the risk of losing the hospital bed if they did not get there in time.

I could feel the chills they would have felt going in an auto rickshaw, a three-wheeler open on all sides.

Getting close to the hospital, my mom got a call that informed them that my father tested positive for COVID. My mom's result is not out yet. To be honest, this was a blessing in disguise as my mom was able to admit him.

This ordeal was so gut-wrenching for me even to hear. If it was any other ailment in non‑COVID times, we have tons of family in India who would have helped them get to the hospital. You see, myself and my siblings are all in the US.

And we were constantly checking on his health and were told he was recovering and he should be home in a few days. Then one day, I get a phone call, which was a group call on WhatsApp. I was sitting in the living room and making a video for my dad with several pictures reliving the memories of my childhood and my siblings’ relationship with us and other major events in our lives, including the time they spent with us in the United States.

You see, my dad is the most creative empathetic person. He's a true family man, a friend for many. He has overcome so many hardships in his life. Because of his amazing personality, he is very well-respected among our family and friends. And he is, to me, a true servant leader.

He has even been instrumental for me to get a PhD. When I wanted to give up, he supported me financially and emotionally. He motivated me to finish.

I was trying to capture some of these highlights in a video when my uncle called. Generally, my dad's brother does not call at that time, and that, too, the call had my mom, brother, sister too.

I pick up the phone and I hear my uncle saying, “Krishna, your dad is put on a ventilator.”

As soon as I heard that, I could not control myself. I was crying and I was feeling as if I was having a heart attack. I did not want to hear what else they were going to say. I just threw the phone away. Luckily, my partner was close by and she could hear me crying. She came and took the phone and spoke to my family.

You see, my worst fears came true. I was recently talking to someone about the immigration issues and travel restrictions that I'm worried how I will handle if one or both of my parents were to get ill. It was the worst feeling I ever felt in my life. I was so lost in the moment that I did not even pause to think, to ask how serious his condition is or was. I was so scared to visualize my dad being on a ventilator.

During that time, I was able to regather myself and took the phone again. I was told my dad was doing fine and then his condition worsened all of a sudden. It seems they tried several different oxygen supports, BiPAP, CPAP, High-Flow, and I finally decided that I didn't know what was going on. And they told me that intubation was the best option and he was put on a ventilator.

As soon as I heard that, the horror stories I hear on media came to my mind. I immediately was thinking all negative thoughts. You see, India is a developing country. I was worried whether my dad was getting the best care. I wanted to be there with him.

I called my travel agent and they said travel is impossible right now with the restrictions and that I need to even get visas for my kids who are US citizens.

I was also told that hospitals are not allowing any visitors. I was even told that if anything bad were to happen to my dad, they won't let us perform the last rites.

In Hindu funeral customs, eldest son performs the last rites and several other rituals. The body is cremated within 24 hours of death.

Hearing all of this, I felt even more helpless and lost. I resorted to praying whenever I was down.

My dad was on ventilator for several days and was given all required medical treatment, and the options were running out. My cousin who is a pulmonary specialist in New York who has seen the peak of COVID-19 there, has recommended us to try plasma therapy. On compassionate grounds, the medical team in India agreed.

Getting the donor for an O-negative blood group, a rare one, is hard, and that too someone who recently recovered from COVID-19. Luckily, the commission of police in our hometown just started a plasma donation program, and within 24 hours we were able to do the plasma transfusion.

To be honest, we did not know whether my dad would have any reaction to this but this was our only chance. We were anxiously awaiting COVID test results again after a few days of plasma therapy. It was very important that this came out negative.

I got a text from my uncle with the report and it said negative. This was a major milestone and I was very happy we are past that virus. The medical team then extubated him in a few days and they said we might need to do tracheostomy to continue the ventilator support. We were told even though it is a surgical procedure, it can bring relief to the patient.

At every step of this journey, I was constantly reading about the equipment and trying to educate myself so that I do not keep panicking. One day, we were able to have a conference call with him and I will never forget that call. I did not know what ICU delirium was, but now I know. My dad talked about a lot of disturbing things, which were not true, but we carefully listened and we were all heartbroken.

When you hear your loved ones say they were going to cut me open, stitch up my body, put me in a van, their identity being changed every day, they were fed non-vegetarian meals, I could not control myself like the rest of the family. However, my uncle was calm during this call and understood what it was and comforted us after the call.

In COVID-19 patients, this is even more pronounced. He thought, my dad, that we were not real. It is just a dream.

The medical team monitored my dad without the ventilator support and he was doing fine with other supplementary oxygen support. One night, which is 2:00 a.m. here, and by this time my sleep schedule was already completely weird, I got a call from my uncle.

He said, “What are you doing?”

I said, “I'm just working,” and then he told me the worst news at that time, that my dad had a seizure.

This time, I did not cry. For some weird reason I was ready to face it. You see, there were so many things which should have gone wrong in the whole process and my dad fought so hard every step of the way. I maybe became more hopeful each day and grew more stronger mentally.

After this call, I just prayed for 30 minutes to calm myself down. He had a lot of carbon dioxide buildup in his lungs, it seems, and we were not sure if his brain was impacted. As a result, he was put back on the ventilator support. The MRI next day revealed no issues, luckily.

My Mom, who also contracted COVID-19, was able to take medications and recover at home. However, I remember one day she told me that my mom and dad had a conversation and that my mom said to my dad that she's not ready to face life without him. This was something that I remembered every day along this journey. And I was hoping my dad reunited with my mom and they spent their rest of their life together happily.

After a few days, he was extubated again and was discharged from the hospital. Technology really saved his life, and he even said it once. And also connected all of us in the times of pandemic and anti-immigration policies.

I am now more self-aware to go beyond words, such as compassion and care and show them in action. 10% to 15% survival chance was what my dad had, and he made it. Thank you.