Cheerful, healthy mom becomes youngest COVID-19 victim in Tri-County Area

MORTON — Grieving hard, the family of Andrea Mammen wants people to know two key things about her:

• Mammen, a clinical psychologist who loved people, made the world a brighter place.

• An otherwise healthy 37-year-old mom, she was killed by COVID-19.

The Morton woman leaves behind a husband, Matt Mammen, and their 2-year-old son, Russell — along with an extended family desperate to convince naysayers that the coronavirus is by no means fake, unserious or overblown.

“I didn’t believe in it,” says her father, Doug Smith. “I didn’t think it was a real thing. But it is.”

“People need to know that anyone can get it, even healthy people,” says her father-in-law, Rick Mammen.

Adds her husband, “We just want people to take care of themselves and each other.”

Andrea, who died Saturday at OSF HealthCare Saint Francis Medical Center in Peoria, is the youngest person to die of COVID-19 in the Tri-County Area, according to the Peoria City/County Health Department. It's comparatively rare for people in their younger years to die after contracting it. Statistics from the Illinois Department of Public Health show that out of more than 8,300 people in Illinois who have died of the disease, only 127 have been people in their 30s.

She had no underlying medical conditions, according to her family. Though the virus triggered other health problems for Mammen, COVID-19 caused her death, said Peoria County Coroner Jamie Harwood.

"I do not believe she would have passed away without this infection,“ Harwood said. ”This virus infection is responsible for the cascade of events that led to her passing away.

“ ... The virus is definitively responsible for her death.”

Andrea Smith grew up in Delavan. She always had her nose in a book, even at the dinner table or relatives’ homes. Still, especially as she grew toward her teens, the upbeat child always had a keen ear and quick smile for friends needing encouragement or counsel.

“She was destined for the psychological field,” her mother, Kathy Smith, recalls with a wide grin. "She gravitated to people who weren’t in the mainstream. She was like that too. She always gravitated to the underdog.“

One of those friends was Matt Mammen, whom she had met in kindergarten. They became close during their time at Delavan High School, but never dated before each went off to college, she in Normal and he in St. Louis.

She spent nine years in school, earning a doctorate from the Chicago School of Professional Psychology. Toward the end of her studies, she and her old pal Matt started talking again by phone, then in person, eventually more and more. To a large degree, he was drawn to her sunny disposition.

“She never had a malicious word for anybody,” her husband says. “She always saw the world in a positive light. She would funnel out all the negative and see the good.”

The two wed in 2013. Meanwhile, she went to work as a clinical psychologist at Psychology Specialists in Pekin.

“She didn’t really have a specialty, because she just wanted to help people: young people, old people, all people,” says Matt, 36, a machinist.

In 2017, their son Russell came into their world. This year, the couple bought a house in Morton, providing him a big backyard for playing.

“It was her dream home,” her husband says.

When the pandemic hit America in March, the Mammens didn’t feel alarmed, as they and their son were “healthy, 100 percent healthy,” Matt says. Still, they took the advice of medical experts, especially in maintaining social distancing and wearing masks in public.

As time wore on, Andrea grew saddened and frustrated by rising death tolls. She did not understand why so many people protested precautions.

“Dang it, people,” she’d yip at the TV news. “Why aren’t you just listening and following the rules? Why are you having parties and not wearing masks?”

Aside from work and visits with relatives, the couple mostly stayed home with Russell. But on Aug. 26, Matt got a call from a friend who had been exposed to a COVID-19 patient. The friend wanted him to know so he could watch for symptoms of the virus.

The next day, Matt felt fatigued and dizzy. When a fever struck the following day, he went for a COVID-19 test and turned up positive. Further tests showed his wife and son also had the virus.

Their doctor advised them to stay home, rest their bodies and watch for any increased symptoms. Though Matt felt lousy, Russell showed almost no ill effects.

“The only symptom he showed was that one day, we realized he couldn’t smell his poopy diaper when we changed it,” Matt says with a chuckle.

Matt soon started feeling better. But Andrea started feeling crummy, with fatigue and fever landing her on a couch for days. When she developed a wheeze, she was prescribed an inhaler. Her attitude seemed chipper, with her saying repeatedly, “It’s really not that bad.”

But on Sept. 8, after having a hard time breathing when climbing upstairs, she was convinced by her husband and mother to go to the hospital. They were glad for her to get the medical attention, but they were crushed in being prohibited (per pandemic protocol) from seeing her at OSF.

“That was almost the worst part, because I know she didn’t want to be alone,” her mother says. “She would tell me, ’Mom, every time I wake up, I wish you were here.’”

Sept. 9, Andrea’s heart rate inexplicably shot up. With medication, though, doctors got it under control.

Sept. 10, her breathing seemed more labored. Conversations with family became a matter of their doing all the talking and her simply listening. Still, even amid her wheezing, her husband kept a positive outlook — he expected doctors would shepherd her through recovery.

“It didn’t look like they wouldn’t be able to handle it,” he says.

That night, Matt sent her a text saying he would call after getting Russell to bed. He called her at 11 p.m., but got no answer.

Twenty minutes later, OSF called.

“I could tell it wasn’t good news,” Matt says.

Though COVID-19 is commonly considered a respiratory ailment, it can cause blood clots and strokes. And Andrea Mammen had suffered a stroke.

Matt was told doctors were preparing for surgery. He sat at home, his son asleep, as surgeons attempted to remove the clot in a last-ditch effort to save her life.

He got a call the next morning. The operation was successful, which was good news. However, the result of a CT scan was not.

“Her brain damage was too much,” her husband says.

With relatives watching Russell, Andrea’s husband and mom were allowed to visit during her last hours. After they put on protective gear, they cuddled next to her, with Matt lying next to her for hours.

Half-asleep, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the clock: 4:57 a.m. Sept. 12.

A nurse gently told him, “She passed away.”

At that recollection, Matt gulps hard, takes a pause, then says, “I’m so glad that’s how she went. She was asleep. And she just let go.”

Her death has triggered grief far beyond the family. Her husband has fielded at least 50 texts from her patients.

“Dr. Andrea was an amazing woman,” one wrote. “She changed my life for the better. I am devastated. She will be remembered for having a heart of gold and the patience of an angel. She had a wonderful way of lighting up a room.”

Matt consulted her counseling colleagues for advice on telling Russell about his mother’s death. The boy, an energetic lad with a spirit as cheerful as his mom’s, enjoys singing and dancing, often to Bob Seger; in fact, he knows most of the words to “Night Moves,” which he is prone to belt out even for strangers.

Still, the playful youth seems intuitive. Though his father has yet to explain the death directly, Russell somehow comprehends the void.

“I think he understood from our sorrow that something wasn’t right,” Matt said.

After putting Russell to sleep Tuesday night, Matt turned to leave the bedroom but stopped at the door upon hearing the boy call out softly.

“Dada?” Russell asked. “It’s just going to be you and me now, right?”

Stunned, Matt paused, then replied, “Yep. Just you and me.”

Russell replied only, “OK” — then peacefully drifted off to sleep.

Friday, they and the rest of Andrea Mammen’s loved ones will lay her to rest. At her funeral, masks and social distancing will be mandatory. Her family sees those requirements as not just a precaution but as a fitting legacy to Andrea, one they hope others will adopt.

Says her widowed husband, “I just want people to realize they need to stay safe and keep their families safe.”

Phil Luciano is a Journal Star columnist. He can be reached at pluciano@pjstar.com, facebook.com/philluciano and (309) 686-3155. Follow him on Twitter.com/LucianoPhil.