Pro Stock Motorcycle racer Steve Johnson pondered, scratched his head and wondered allowed what his newest role in life description could be during drag racing’s pandemic shutdown.

An Emotional Support Technician?

“That’s awesome,” Johnson said of the suggestion. “That’s perfect.”

In just a little over a month, Johnson put aside his role of never-ending ambassador for drag racing to providing emotional and whatever support he could to trusted crewman Ervin “Jock” Allen. Allen, who contracted the Coronavirus last month, eventually ending up being hospitalized and connected to a ventilator.

Johnson won’t admit he’s become an expert on all things Coronavirus but is quick to point out he’s learned quite a bit over the last month or so.

“I will tell you that while everybody’s listening, it’s real, man,” Johnson said. “It is real.”

And as Johnson painfully admits, there was a time when he and Allen used the Coronavirus as a punchline to an ongoing joke.

“Not only as embarrassing as it is to say, and I really want y’all to try to feel this,” Johnson explained. “What I’m going to say is that it’s embarrassing. But Jock and I are at our shop, we’re working, and all of a sudden he’ll cough, or I’ll cough. And we laugh at each other, ‘Oh, you’re going to get the coronavirus.”

“That’s how ignorant we were.”

Then Allen’s mother, Candice, a medical worker, was admitted to UAB Hospital showing symptoms of the Coronavirus, and the mood got somber very quickly.

“From that point to Jock’s mom going in the hospital and being scared, and then six days later Jock has got it, and he’s going in the hospital, and they’re both in ICU, both with ventilators, both scaring the living heck out of family and myself that they might not wake up in the morning, or we might not know that they’re okay in the morning,” Johnson explained. “I’m telling you, that’s quite the roller coaster from joking about it to it being in your front yard.”

It wasn’t long before the Cornovirus walked right through his front door.

“Jock texted me, and it’s a picture of his thermometer, and it’s 101 or some crazy thing,” Johnson said. “And so I’m like, ‘What in the heck are you doing?”

“And I’m like, ‘Get out of here, go to the doctor.”

 

 

Johnson said Allen was tested on a Thursday, confirmed positive the following Saturday. This rapid escalation of illness quickly got Johnson’s attention even more.

“He’s checked himself into the hospital,” Johnson said. “He’s throwing up like crazy. He’s sore, he’s got a temperature. They give him IV fluids. So he goes back home because he feels good. Next morning, the same thing. Been throwing up, he’s sore. He goes to the hospital; they give him some intravenous and the solutions to help deal with the dehydration. And they check him in there. And boy, on May 9, they send him from there, right to be with his mom at UAB Hospital here in Birmingham, Alabama. That’s when it set in that, again, this is real.”

The message was driven home further when Johnson drove to the hospital to visit Allen.

“I didn’t know it, but the hospital is on lockdown,” Johnson said. “It’s on major lockdown.”

By this time Allen’s mother, sister, brother and fiance had all tested positive for Coronavirus. His mother and sister were all healthcare workers on the front line.

Candice had begun to make progress in her recovery but unexpectedly took a turn for the worse and passed on May 18, while her son was still on a ventilator and heavily sedated.

Allen opened his eyes on May 22, and for Johnson, it was a gift he will cherish.

“I announced to the world on Facebook Live, I’m excited,” Johnson recalled. “I’m on the moon. And again, still ignorant as heck, and tell everybody, and I’m like, “Oh, he’s home free!”

Johnson witnessed the moment through a video feed but also learned this was just the start of a long road to recovery.

“I’m an emotional basket case, knucklehead,” Johnson admitted. “I was so excited about his eyes opening, and his hand came up and waved a little bit, and we were all, his whole family was on the phone. Even everybody who was sick it didn’t matter. Everybody was at their own homes, quarantined and watching and we’re excited. So the emotion, totally off the charts. And then scared to death when he might not wake up in the morning.”

As Johnson knows, Allen is living his dream at 27. A relative kid amongst his peers, he attended the Motorcycle Mechanics Institute where he began pursuing his passion for motorcycles just like his father.

Until Allen returns to everyday life in the shop, Johnson, who considers him to be like a son, plans to keep the racing world abreast of his recovery. He readily admits riding a Pro Stock Motorcycle at nearly 200 miles per hour to be more in his wheelhouse than writing articles.

“So educating people about his recovery, I got all kinds of respect for those in the media who write about what goes on, it’s like, “Wow!” It takes me hours to write four paragraphs about what’s going on with Jock.”

The most unenviable part of being in the communications role is that Johnson was the one appointed to tell Allen his mother had passed.

“Being adopted and just having the life I have, it’s just, I want to be more connected with people and a mother and father’s love for their kids and all that is incredible,” Johnson explained. “You don’t go to the store to buy that. That’s for sure. And that’s earned, so I haven’t earned it, so to speak.

“Jock was asking about his mom through writing. He was writing on a whiteboard, ‘What about my mom?”

“The nurses are in a tough position. So having said all that, you can all envision what’s going on in his mind, He’s wanting to know about his mom. And they said she was resting, and y’all can take that however you want.

“So somebody’s got to go in and tell him. So the family all talked, and I was the only one to go do this. I have been close to him for eight years.”

Johnson consulted with members of the medical community before talking to Allen. Then the moment came for him to enter the COVID unit at UAB.

“I’m outside of the COVID unit on the sixth floor, and there’s a phone there,” Johnson explained. “You call them, they come to the door, these two big wooden sealed doors open up, Oh God, it still gives me a chill. You walk in there, and everybody’s got masks on, everybody’s got the stuff on, the gowns. You’re walking through, and peripherally you’re seeing all these machines, a bed, somebody in there, and people around him. And door, after door, after door, after door.

“You get to the end of this row, and there’s a little nurse’s station. And then I see Jock’s room. And they put me in all this stuff, the PPE and the mask, and I’ve got my own glasses. I chat just a little bit. Then I went in there and talked to Jock.”

Johnson handed Allen his mother’s bracelet after all the small talk, and said, “This is your mom’s.”

“I just said that she came in, and gave him a kiss on his forehead and said how much she loved him, and she was so excited to get her wings and go be with her dad,” Johnson said. “And she wasn’t going to be in any more pain. And she wanted him to be a superstar, along with the rest of the family.

“Then he got it, and it was pretty emotional. That was tough. And then there was some medical stuff that happened after that I definitely didn’t need to see, had no idea about what I was going to see, or needed to be around.”

So touched by the moment, Johnson left the hospital and bought lunch for those caring for Allen, and others.

“I feel like everybody needs to know a little bit about this thing from a little deeper level,” Johnson said.

Johnson has seen the ill-effects of the Coronavirus, including the depression the illness can bring on not only its victims but those around them. Because of this, Johnson admits his life will never be the same.

“It’s too emotional when it’s part of your team,” Johnson said. “Or even a close friend; or I just can’t even imagine being a family member. As it was for Todd Smith, my biggest heartache goes for Julie, the one by his side and dealing with it every night, and every day. And how can I help? And I can’t see him. And I got to at least go in and see Jock and his eyes open and stuff, and we didn’t walk down an aisle or anything. So these people that not only are at home, trying to fight and do whatever they can ... oh, it’s a definitely life-changing situation.”

For Johnson, it’s just another day in the life of an Emotional Support Technician.