Rita H.

On March 28, 2023, I came face to face with death—and by God’s grace, I survived.

It all began during an emotionally overwhelming season. After a painful breakup, I began experiencing prolonged, abnormal menstruation that lasted for 25 days. While I had an OB/GYN appointment scheduled, it was still weeks away, so I turned to my trusted family doctor—someone I had seen for over 25 years.

I explained that I was dealing with mood swings and excessive bleeding. According to the medical intake notes, a full culture exam was recommended. But my doctor didn’t review it. She didn’t examine me or order any tests. Instead, she prescribed buspirone to regulate my mood and sent me home, saying there was nothing more she could do. I was dismissed—and left unaware that a silent infection was growing inside me.

What I didn’t know was that I had a urinary tract infection (UTI)—and it was spreading fast. (Sepsis and Urinary Tract Infections)

Ten days later, I woke up freezing cold, with violent tremors throughout my body. I couldn’t control the shaking. I was rushed to the ER. My heart rate dropped below 30, and my blood pressure was critically low. That’s when I heard the words I’ll never forget:
“You’re in septic shock.” At the time, I had no idea what sepsis was.

Even in my fragile state, I was conscious enough to message friends and let them know what was happening. ICU doctors came to the ER to ask about my resuscitation preferences. I’d never been asked those kinds of questions before. When my family arrived, the look in their eyes—filled with fear and tears—told me everything I needed to know. This was serious. I was dying.

I was admitted to the ICU. Hooked up to machines, I laid there and had a quiet moment with God. I said, “If this is my time, I surrender. I’m ready.” But God had other plans. I survived.

I remained hospitalized for a week. The doctors tried multiple antibiotics, but none worked until day five, when they finally found one that worked. Leaving the hospital, I believed the worst was behind me—but I was wrong.  The trauma, the powerful medications, and the physical shock left my body in survival mode. I developed severe gut issues, my serotonin levels crashed, and I began suffering from daily panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, and deep depression.

Three months after I was discharged, I had one of the worst anxiety attacks of my life—at 3 a.m. And that’s when the Holy Spirit showed up. It’s hard to describe, but I felt an overwhelming peace, one I hadn’t felt in months. In that moment, I knew I wasn’t alone. I realized that God had been with me the entire time—even when I felt abandoned, even when I was ready to let go. And even after that spiritual turning point, healing remained a layered journey. I gained 50 pounds within a year of being released. My hormones were disrupted, my body was inflamed, and emotionally, I was still climbing out of the darkest valley I had ever known.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned from this experience is the importance of medical advocacy. If I had been given a proper physical exam, if the culture test had been ordered, if my doctor had taken my symptoms seriously, I believe this could have been prevented. I do hold my medical provider responsible. Her failure to act on the intake notes and perform basic diagnostic care nearly cost me my life.

So now, I speak out. I advocate—not only for myself, but for others. Speak up. Ask for tests. Demand to be taken seriously. If something feels off, don’t stop until someone listens. You have every right to be heard and thoroughly examined. Trust your body. Trust your instincts. And never be afraid to push for your own care.

As I approach March 28, 2025, I celebrate two years of surviving sepsis—and the journey that has followed. I’m still healing. I’m still learning. But I’m here. And that alone is a miracle.

To anyone going through illness, depression, or uncertainty—you are not alone. Keep fighting. Healing doesn’t always come quickly, and it rarely looks perfect. But it is possible.
Healing is messy, but it’s possible.
And most of all—
God is real. He met me in the ICU. He showed up in my darkest night. And He’s still carrying me today.
God will meet you exactly where you are… just like He did for me.