Caroline Poole

I was home recovering from an extensive spinal reconstruction. After 4 days, I felt odd, disoriented and started send nonsensical messages to friends (I was convinced people outside were shooting arrows at me.) A close friend passing by decided to stop and check in on me. Had she not, I would not be writing this today. I was barely responsive and she called 911 immediately. (Sepsis and Surgery)

The last thing I consciously remember was hearing my blood pressure, 58/32, and “she’s not going to make to downtown”. So they diverted to a closer smaller hospital. Unfortunately, once there, the initial diagnosis was a drug overdose because of my recent surgery. Severe dehydration had caused the small quantity of medications to appear more concentrated than they were. Further tests indicated they were very wrong and that I was on the downhill slide of severe sepsis resulting from an advanced UTI. I’m told I was so delirious that I had to be restrained, and I vaguely remember that – plus fighting tooth and nail not to be loaded into a cat scan. (Sepsis and Urinary Tract Infections)

Kidney failure, liver failure, heart and breathing support in ICU are things I don’t remember at all. but, after a week of intensive care, I responded and was sent to a non ICU room, and then home. That’s when it felt that the real battle began. Things I was totally unprepared for: the nightmares, the terror of falling asleep, severe depression and disjointed cognitive problems. I’ve played the piano since I was five, been now had no idea how to play; yarn and crochet hooks must belong to someone else, because I had no idea what to do with them. (I had taught myself to crochet 4-5 years earlier.) Even walking was different and required focus and determination. Also, I oddly I could not understand what the letters on the gear shifter in my car meant. Too embarrassed to ask anyone, I found the car manual to see that R meant reverse, D meant Drive, etc. Crazy, right? I had to leave the manual open for months to consult every time I drove.

I’m research oriented, so my own findings lead me to learn about PSS. Thank God. That was a huge turning point. Once I learn this was a “condition” and not me going crazy, and that I would get better, I felt enormous hope. Everything seemed to indicate 6 months to a year recovery. I would say that after 8 months of taking care of myself, eating well, even meditation, I was almost back to my old self. There is an occasional flashback or nightmare, and a permanent fear of infection. And I do have a little anger at fending for myself through this. I’m astonished that patients that survive sepsis aren’t given more guidance and information. When my brother in law experienced sepsis from a ruptured ulcer (2 weeks on ICU), I made sure he and his family were prepared for the rest of his recovery. I know my story made a difference with him, and I hope to continue to raise awareness.

This next part is not part of my story, but just some things I need to say.

1. This is a scary enough path as it is; it shouldn’t be so lonely as well. Thank you so much for being there.
2. Misdiagnosis almost killed me because I was taking pain medication, as instructed. To jump to a conclusion of drug overdose was dangerous and unwarranted. (My friend had gathered my medications and my log book and took them to the ER, following the ambulance.) I kept detailed records of what I took, how much and when. No one ever checked my data or noticed the 48 staples up my spine, completely dismissing the surgery “story”. As a 55 year old Commercial Underwriter for Engineers, Architects and Land Surveyors, there was nothing in my history to profile me as a drug user/abuser.
I am profoundly thankful for the ER doctor who came on duty when she did. She recognized the issue immediately and had three ports inserted to start pouring in antibiotics as fast and as much as possible. She and my friend saved my life.