'Like Ebenezer Scrooge On X-Mas': Nothing Bothers Covid-19 Survivor Anymore

YAPHANK, NY — When Timothy Heaton used to work in Lower Manhattan, he would often pray in the historic Chapel of All Saints in Trinity Church.

It's famed as a place where President George Washington once knelt, and later became known as the site where the body of fallen FDNY chaplain Fr. Mychal Judge was placed on the altar after he died administering last rites to a dying firefighter on 9/11.

Heaton credits his prayers at the holy place for helping him become a Suffolk County corrections officer 25 years ago. So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that he visited the chapel once in a dream just last year.

In the vivid dream, he was floating and looking down on the church from up on the ceiling in the rafters and going up to a large cross.

"It sounds crazy," he said, adding, that the mind is "a fascinating thing."

He distinctly remembers everything. There were chairs and also a sarcophagus with a priest.

While dreaming, Heaton was in a medically-induced coma at Stony Brook University Hospital, where he was battling his release from the deathly grip of COVID-19.

He was on a lot of medication at the time.

"I'm not crazy — maybe my oxygen thing fell out," he said with a laugh.

His heart stopped three times and hospital staff kept asking his wife of 35 years, Connie, to sign a do not resuscitate order, but she refused.

A Roman Catholic priest was called to perform the ritual of last rites to prepare his soul for entrance to heaven, but after that, Heaton miraculously came back from the brink of death.

"I just came out of it," he said.

And he credits that miracle to the power of prayer.

Sometimes he questions if his life now is too good to be real.

"I appreciate every second of life. I wonder if I am really here," adding, "It is a wonderful life."

Heaton, who was in very good health, came down with the virus just before a planned retirement after 25 years in the sheriff's office, working in both the Yaphank and Riverhead jails as a correction officer. It's believed that he caught the virus while working in the Riverhead Jail where there was an outbreak among inmates and correction officers despite a "conscientious" mask protocol, he said.

The virus floored Heaton with great haste, and when he came out the other side, there was much work to be done. During his time on a ventilator, he became emaciated, and his muscles weakened to the point that he could not move his legs or lift his finger when he awoke.

It's not that he did not appreciate all that he had before, but now he does even more so.

"The main thing is that when you are that close to the edge, you appreciate everything," he said.

One thing Heaton can appreciate is the prayer chain, with thousands across the United States praying for him. At Stony Brook, he was even visited by religious leaders from other faiths.

"The power of prayer is real," he said.

He knows. In his recovery, all he could do was pray.

His number one guy is Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes or the impossible.

It's something that he can't stop thinking about. He doesn't think his recovery happened.

The Medford resident spent months in a dark room.

"I was in a room where I could only see the towers of Stony Brook, and that's all I saw. Normally, what I would want to do is see the sky and feel the sun on my skin," he said.

Heaton realizes everyone has issues and problems with their families, but he urged them "to just pray," he said, adding, "No one's perfect. I'm not perfect. No one is. But it really works. I can't ... I don't know what else to say."

He came out of the battle for his life with scars all over his body from various tubes that were placed inside his body to help him breathe and eat, crediting the staff at Stony Brook for the Herculean efforts that they put in to see him recover from his illness. From Stony Brook, he was transferred to St. Charles Hospital Rehabilitation Facility, where he underwent a rigorous physical therapy program that helped him get back on track.

When he left the hospital in March 2022, he could only walk about 100 steps with a walker and required a wheelchair for his grand exit, where he was feted by dozens of friends and supporters.

After that, he went for more physical therapy at Professional Care in Patchogue.

Nearly a year later, he recently visited the Freedom Towers in Manhattan and made his way over to nearby Trinity Church, but unfortunately, he could not go inside All Saints Chapel because of renovations. He also visited the New York City Highline, taking in all the different faces who greeted him.

As he walked, the sight only made him think how God could only have created them all.

"You know, everyone is like a snowflake," Heaton said.

He planned to retire just after September 2021 when he was struck by the virus.

Heaton started to feel "a little funny," but then that feeling morphed into illness. He remembered asking his wife if he could take a shower and shave before heading to the emergency room. When he got there, he was told that his lungs were overtaken by the virus, and he had an embolism.

But he sees now that he has a calling to pass on his message about prayer.

About a month ago, he wrote a letter to his old friend NYPD Deputy Chief James Molloy's wife to let her know that he had a dream about him. The fallen police officer died from 9/11-related brain cancer in 2017.

Heaton dreamt he and his buddy were 15 years old again. Molloy picked him up in his boat, called "Puddle Jumper" on Great South Bay. The two waterskied, fished, and clammed all day.

"We're having a great time," he said. "And then all of a sudden, he says, 'I got to take you back to the dock. My dad said I have to take you back to the dock.' And I said, 'Why? We got plenty of gas.' But he goes, 'No, well, I'll be back.' So, he brought me to the dock."

On Thursday, Heaton stood tall, accepted his retirement shield and took his final walkout — a traditional law enforcement ceremony honoring retirees — at the Yaphank Jail.

He was free of COVID-19, out of the hospital, and officially retired. He had his health, his family, and his prayers with him.

"I always believed in God, but never like this," he said. "Even in your own personal life; I don't care where you are whether you are in a cardboard box on Broadway or in a mansion, I would just like you to shut your eyes and pray and God will be listening. It seems like it changed my whole outlook on everything."

For him and his family, this year was a happy new year, at last.

"I'm like Ebenezer Scrooge at Christmas — nothing bothers me anymore," he said.