In His Own Words: Ellis McKennie

Our country and our world have come to a screeching halt due to a pandemic that took us all by surprise. Millions of Americans have powerful stories about how the coronavirus has affected their lives. No single story is more difficult or significant than another. But as stories can act as signals of fear and anxiety, others can give hope and optimism in a world that so desperately needs it. That is my goal here; to share a story of successfully overcoming this virus as a family and as a community. Additionally, individuals fighting as hard as we could to continue our lives in the process. 

My name is Ellis McKennie, and this is my coronavirus story.

Coming into the spring of 2020, there was nothing standing in my way. I had the future I once dreamed of and worked so hard for just a few weeks away. I was finishing my master’s degree, had been accepted into my dream law school, and was working hard every day to get ready to participate in Maryland’s Pro Day in front of dozens of NFL Scouts. My dad and I spoke every day about the draft, what teams were interested, how my training was going, etc. The past 10 years of my life were going to reach an apex in the coming weeks.

Before now, coronavirus had only been a distant thought. Something we knew was happening in China, but not something that threatened the lives of Americans, especially not college students who believe they are bullet proof. But what seemed like a foreign myth, turned into a personal struggle in an instant.

The first case of coronavirus was confirmed in the US on January 21. By mid-March, the University of Maryland moved to an online learning environment for the rest of the semester, nearly all sporting events across the world had been cancelled, and the US began preparing to fight a devastating pandemic. 

As a selfish 22-year-old, all I could see were my NFL dreams falling through the cracks. The last few weeks of what has been the best five years of my life were gone in the blink of an eye. No Pro Day. No graduation. No Senior Spring. That is all I could think about on March 15 . But by March 21, these self-centered concerns would be the least of my worries. On March 21, 2020, my father would be diagnosed with COVID-19 and a few days later be placed on a ventilator in a medically induced coma.

What seemed like an inconvenient interruption to my life had now put my father in a fight for his life. A man who never told his true struggle and walked through life as if it were his own personal game. Growing up, I saw my father as the greatest superhero there ever was. The smartest, cleverest, most athletic, most confident man on the planet. I always tried to emulate his level of intellect and charisma. The last thing I could imagine is seeing him hooked up to a ventilator, his lifeless eyes fluttering as we just try to let him hear our voices. 

The most difficult part for my family, was our inability to be with one another. When my father first went to the hospital, I was still in College Park. My mother and sister began their quarantine and I could not visit them for the first two weeks that my father was in the hospital.

Trying to be a strong and supportive son/brother from your car in front of their house is nearly impossible. Especially when I needed them as much as they needed me.

Every day that my father was in the hospital, I sat in the parking lot of UPMC (University of Pittsburgh Medical Center) Hanover. The wonderful nurses had kindly decorated his window so that I could see where he was every day. I just wanted to do everything that I could to be closer to him. Every day I sat in front of that window and prayed. I prayed that one day my father would walk out of this hospital. In these moments, the things that took up 100% of my thoughts two weeks earlier, law schools, pro day, the NFL, graduation, couldn’t have been any less significant. I would’ve traded every single one of those things to get my dad out of this place. I’d give all of them up to be able to hug the man that I love so much and to know that he was okay.

Each day that went by our fears got worse and worse. His body was not recovering. The doctors were increasing the oxygen in his ventilator every day until it got to a point where his body was no longer doing any of the breathing. The ventilator was doing 100% of the work. The doctors tried to transfer him to better equipped hospitals in the region, but none were accepting transfers, a sad reality in the face of a pandemic. The doctors told my mother that they were going to continue to fight, but they were running out of options to treat him. My dad was truly on his last leg.

I couldn’t avoid a feeling of utter helplessness. At night, the news would come on and report a growing number of deaths in America from this virus. It appeared it would only be a matter of time until my dad was one of those numbers, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I was finally able to move back in with my mother and sister after their quarantine had ended. The first day I was home I received a package. It was a letter attached to a shirt and a hat from the Baltimore Ravens. The letter said how unfortunate it was that Pro Day had been cancelled, but that they were still interested in potentially adding me to their team in the coming weeks. What should have been an exciting moment for myself and family, was honestly one of my lowest points because I could not pick up the phone and tell my dad what just happened. Quite frankly, he was the one who kept me focused on making it to the NFL. At times it even seemed that he wanted it just as much or even more than I did. The reality that we could not share this moment with him hit me harder than anything else throughout this process.

When times seemed the toughest, it was unbelievable to see the number of people reaching out to support my family. Whether it was our family and friends, people we have never met before, Maryland fans, George Washington fans (where he played college basketball), everyone wanted to let us know that we were not alone in this. I saw a side of people that you don’t usually see. The spirit and compassion from strangers, who were only tied to us by human nature. I honestly believe that it was from this spirit, positive thoughts, and an army of prayer soldiers that my dad was able to fight COVID-19.

On March 28, we hadn’t received good news in weeks. But on this day my mom called the doctors for her tri-daily check ins. The doctor had my mom take out a piece of paper and write something down because he believed it was important. The doctor spelled out: S L O W L Y  I M P R O V I N G.

A sense of relief and joy overcame my mother as there was hope. A hope that had been so dark over the past few weeks was now alive.

Days later my mom received a call from the nurses. The nurse says, “Someone wants to talk to you.” It was my dad. My dad was awake for the first time in two weeks. He gets on the phone; tells my mom he loves her and that he is going to be OK. It did not take long for him to issue his own bill of good health. I got to speak with my dad that same day. I finally got to tell him about the NFL teams who had called and the letter from the Ravens. I told him how much we missed him, and how happy we were that he was getting better. 

For the next few days, we would talk on the phone and I tried to express to him how scared we had been. He had no concept for how long he was in a coma, how close he was to death, but there was no use in arguing, he was getting better.

On April 13, the day after Easter, our prayers were answered. On that rainy morning, to the applause of the incredible medical professionals, and into the arms of my waiting mother, my dad stood up out of his wheelchair and walked out of Hanover hospital. Frozen behind my phone’s camera, tears rolled down my face. My father was going home.

Reality strikes when you see your superhero in a fight for his life. But your previous thoughts are reaffirmed when you see him win what seemed to be an unwinnable battle.

My dad has been home for over a week now. He is slowly rehabbing from being in a coma for so long, but he no longer has symptoms of COVID-19. On April 19, we were able to celebrate his 52nd birthday with him. Thirty of his closest family and friends celebrated the only way we can during this time, over Zoom. But that did not damper any spirits. There were so many smiles that day because he was home. 

To those who are suffering from this disease the way my father and my family have, I want this story to inspire a feeling of hope. This disease is a formidable opponent. Many strong and wonderful individuals have lost the fight with COVID-19. But it is possible to win. As a people we can and will come together to defeat this virus. But in this time, we must find our inner human spirit. We must show compassion, empathy, and love for one another whenever possible. Spread positivity and love to whoever you come across. We are all in this together and we will persist. God bless those suffering, God bless the families who have lost loved ones, and may God give hope to those who at this moment feel hopeless.

Go Terps!

Ellis McKennie III