MARY HENNIGAN

Special to The Free Weekly

After fighting for four months, 26-year-old Alejandra Arevalo ultimately lost her life to covid-19 on Oct. 23. While diagnosed with the virus, she was shuffled among five hospitals where she went through cardiac arrest, kidney failure and an amputated leg. Arevalo spent her final days alone, unable to speak because of a ventilator, in the Intensive Care Unit at Northwest Medical Center in Springdale.

For the last few months in the hospital, Arevalo was stable enough to sit through FaceTime calls with family and friends, but not strong enough to complete necessary heart surgery. This complication, in part, was from the thickening of blood because of her covid-19 diagnosis, something which previously caused a blood clot in her leg that resulted in an above-the-knee amputation.

With no preexisting conditions before her infection and the unpredictability of the virus, it was impossible to predict how covid-19 would affect Arevalo, who worked at the Walmart Home Office in customer service.

“Typically, most 26-year-olds will have a fever, nausea, vomiting, shortness of breath,” said Nikhil Meena, director of Medical Intensive Care at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences, Little Rock. “There’s no way to tell before you get infected that you’re going to be OK or not.”

Arevalo’s age group, 25-34, has experienced the greatest number of cases in Arkansas. The group totaled more than 47,500 total positive covid-19 cases Jan. 31, according to the Arkansas Department of Health. However, this group is one of the least likely to die from the disease, with 35 total deaths among 25- to 34-year-olds so far.

During her months in the hospital, Arevalo’s kidney failure required a dialysis treatment four times a week. She grew bedsores on her body and final sources of nutrition were through a feeding tube in her throat that passed by a tracheostomy tube.

In addition to all of the health complications, she hadn’t seen a family member, including her 6-year-old daughter, in person for over a month.

Arevalo was depressed and could only communicate with hospital staff by a number of blinks, one for yes, two for no. FaceTime calls with her family sounded like a one-way conversation. One friend sent text messages that received no reply.

When visitors were still allowed, Arevalo’s sister, Jennifer, would assure her that everything would be OK.

“I just kept telling her, ‘Your daughter is fine, we’re going to take care of her, you’re going to be out soon,’” Jennifer said, wiping away tears during her lunch break.

Arevalo and her sister were not always close. When Arevalo was admitted to the hospital, the two began to mend their bond, apologizing for past arguments like they wouldn’t have another chance to.

“When someone needs you, you have to be there,” Jennifer said. “It would be nice to just have at least one person there; the doctors did tell us it was good for her. She was allowing the doctors and nurses to do more for her.”

Arkansas’ Hispanic community has been disproportionately impacted by covid-19 with the total cases at 1,393 per 10,000 population as of Jan. 31, almost double the white rate of 791 per 10,000, according to the Arkansas Department of Health.

Two major factors that have caused spread within the Hispanic community are the number of essential workers and the cultural traditions of family importance, said Geovanny Sarmiento, vice president of community engagement and inclusion for the Rogers-Lowell Chamber of Commerce.

“Almost every immigrant culture, they traditionally don’t send their loved ones to long-term facilities,” Sarmiento said. “They stay home with the family, and they take turns taking care of their loved ones.”

Arevalo’s close friend Tania Salas was used to seeing Arevalo weekly and would talk with her daily. Since the hospitalization, Salas had to adjust to a life without that connection.

The two met in high school, eight years ago, when working at Burger King. Over the years, they became close friends, and Arevalo was expected to stand beside Salas on her wedding day last March. Because of the pandemic, Salas postponed the wedding to October, but ultimately had to get married without Arevalo there as a bridesmaid.

Arevalo was working from home for Walmart when her mother, Jovita Carranza, 40, was exposed to the virus at Ozark Mountain Poultry in May. As an essential worker, her mother played a vital role in ensuring a steady food supply during the early-pandemic months.

Before long, six other family members were infected, including Arevalo’s 89-year-old grandmother and her 18-year-old brother. Jennifer was the only family member that didn’t contract the virus, she said.

No one in the family had any preexisting health conditions. In Arevalo’s case, “she was perfectly fine and then it just escalated,” Jennifer said. While her mother visited the emergency room a few times, no one in the family had a case as severe as Arevalo’s.

“How you do depends on how aggressively your body monitor responds to it,” UAMS pulmonologist Meena said. “It’s not as much the virus itself, but it’s the body’s response to it. … We still don’t really know how one person will respond to it.”

Although insured, the Arevalo family has faced an estimated $20,000 in hospital bills, Jennifer said. It is uncertain how high the final total will be.

Jennifer started a fundraiser on GoFundMe in June with a goal of $25,000. Nearly 300 donors have supported Arevalo and her family and had helped to raise almost $12,000 as of Feb. 1.

To increase morale and support each other financially, the family has come together to live under one roof, despite the parents’ previous separation.

Jennifer, who often takes care of Arevalo’s daughter, has picked up more hours at a part-time job in addition to her full-time pharmaceutical work. Her mother, who depended on Arevalo to pay half of their bills together, had to return a newly bought car to supplement funds.

In some ways, Arevalo’s absence brought the family closer as they leaned on each other for support through a difficult time.

“I never thought that we would be in this situation,” Jennifer said. “I would never wish [it] on anybody.”

Mary Hennigan is a student at the University of Arkansas and completed this story as part of a feature writing class. It is used here with her permission and that of Alejandra Arevalo’s family.