She was a mother to more than her own. ‘Loving’ Columbia woman dies from coronavirus.

Crystal Priester knew there had to be something wrong when her mother called out from work.

Sandra Priester rarely took sick days. She loved her job too much to spend time away from it. For more than 20 years she worked as a direct support professional at the Babcock Center in Columbia, a non-profit organization that provides housing, support and vocational training for people with lifelong disabilities.

Sandra worked in a hands-on role with countless clients, helping them to develop self-care skills, like cooking and bathing. Those clients were like family to her, and she was like family to them. On the rare occasions she did take time off, she’d often receive phone calls from them. Because they needed her. Because no one else would do.

So when Sandra called out sick in late March and — even more— when she wasn’t answering her boss’ phone calls, Crystal felt immediate fear. Her 62-year-old mother had been taking Tamiflu for a couple of days to treat flu-like symptoms, and her chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, lupus and high blood pressure put her in an elevated risk category for COVID-19.

Crystal, a certified nursing assistant for 20-plus years, went to her mother’s Columbia home on Monday, March 16 and checked Sandra’s vitals every hour on the hour. Her vitals were stable, but her symptoms weren’t improving, and her own fear was starting to rise.

“I recall my mom sitting in the bathroom, and I could hear her pray so hard,” said Crystal, noting her mother wasn’t vocally religious. “And I had never heard her pray before.”

Battling COVID-19 in ICU

The next day, Sandra asked her daughter to make a quick run to Dollar General to pick up supplies.

“And when I came back she told me to check her oxygen levels because she felt like she couldn’t breathe,” Crystal said. “Her oxygen level was at 64 percent, so she asked me to call the ambulance for her, which is not normal for my mom because she’s terrified of hospitals. So I knew something wasn’t right.”

Within minutes of calling 911, an EMT knocked on the door, and Sandra’s fear escalated into a full-blown anxiety attack. Her heart rate skyrocketed, her breathing became more labored. Paramedics gave her oxygen and a dose of Ativan to calm her down and then rushed her to the emergency room.

All Crystal could do was follow behind. She remembers sitting in the E.R. lobby with her older brother. Both had to be screened at the door. Both had to wear masks and gloves. And both could only wait as the doctors ran a series of tests. The flu test came back negative. So did the test for pneumonia. Before long, the reality set in that Sandra was battling COVID-19 and that she needed to go to the intensive care unit.

Doctors allowed Crystal to briefly see her mother on that Tuesday night. She went back to Sandra’s room and made sure to leave her mother with her cell phone so they could stay in contact.

On Wednesday afternoon, Crystal received a video call from Sandra, who was joined in her room by the nurse practitioner and a couple of other nurses. The nursing staff was trying to convince Sandra to go on a ventilator and needed Crystal’s help to talk her into it. Sandra’s oxygen levels had not returned to normal and breathing was becoming increasingly difficult.

Still, no matter what the doctors tried, they weren’t able to stabilize her. COVID-19 ruthlessly attacked her COPD-compromised lungs, while her lupus wreaked havoc on her kidneys. By March 29, there was nothing left to be done. Crystal and her three siblings were allowed to visit the hospital and say their final goodbyes.

At 6:45 p.m., doctors took Sandra off of the ventilator.

At 7:10 p.m., she took her last breath.

Neighborhood Mom

The most important lesson Sandra Priester taught her four children was a lesson in love. Not just love for family or love for friends, but universal love. She exemplified that kind of love in everything she did. She showed her children, through her actions, how to serve others and how to be a light for the rest of the community.

Her relationships with her disabled clients were genuine and warm and went far beyond what was required by her job description. Some of her clients weren’t able to see family during the holidays, so she’d bring them to her home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and include them in family activities like they were her own children. Her home was inclusive. In her home, everyone was equal.

“When she would bring them home with us to celebrate the holidays, we didn’t see ... their disability,” Crystal said. “We treated them like they were human, because of the love she gave them.

“She was loving. You could be a stranger on the street and say you were hungry and didn’t have a place to stay, and she would take you in. She didn’t care who you were.”

Sandra had a significant other for 39 years, Robert Evans, whom her children would grow to affectionately call “dad.” But in their early years of life, she raised her two boys and two girls as a single parent in Columbia. Crystal said she and her siblings used to watch in admiration as their mother maintained her composure and positivity in even the toughest of times. There was a period where she didn’t even own a car. She used to walk from the top of Fairfield Road down to the bottom North Main Street every day, no matter the weather, so she could take a bus to her old job at the Strom Thurmond Federal Building.

It didn’t matter how tight her budget was. She made sure her children were never in need.

“Not only us, but she was like the neighborhood mom that everybody looked up to,” Crystal said. “The memories we share — she always spread love. She was always spreading love, and she was always about family.”

Like more than 100,000 Americans who have succumbed to the coronavirus, Sandra’s death was sudden and devastating, and strict social distancing guidelines made mourning her loss all the more difficult. Crystal had to quarantine herself for 14 days because of the direct contact she had with her mother.

Crystal and her siblings decided not to have a traditional funeral, not only because of the state’s restrictions on social gatherings but also because they knew their mother would never want to put the people she loved in harm’s way. Instead, they held a balloon release at their aunt’s house, using red balloons to honor Sandra’s favorite color.

“We were amazed with the turnout because we didn’t want people to come put themselves at risk,” Crystal said. “But I guess, you know, the love that they had for my mom and the love that she gave, they didn’t care. They just wanted to come and pay their respects.”

That love continues to guide Sandra’s children, even in her absence, even though it feels different now. Love is how they honor her. It’s the most important gift she gave them.

“We still reach out to each other daily and continue to tell each other we love each other,” Crystal said, fighting back tears. “I always tell my siblings, ‘Our mother teaches us everything, but they don’t teach us how to live without them,’ and that’s the hardest part.

“I’m a spitting image of my mother. I look exactly like my mother. We just pray that God keeps giving us the strength to carry on.”

This story was originally published June 30, 2020 at 5:00 AM.