Shelly Diana
I retired from nursing after being a nursing supervisor on an Intensive Care Unit for the past 12 years. My youngest son Jason and I left Arizona to visit my mom in Illinois for a few days in March of 2022. The first few days of the trip were normal and then on Monday I developed flank pain. By Tuesday morning the pain was unbearable. Jason took me to the Emergency Room in my mom’s hometown and I was diagnosed with 4 kidney stones. (Sepsis and Kidney Stones) The Emergency Room doctor wanted to admit me to the hospital but I persuaded him to discharge me knowing I had an 8PM flight booked to go home that night. He prescribed an antibiotic, a pain reliever, and a steroid medication.
By the time I got to the airport that night I could barely walk. My son pushed me to the plane in a wheelchair and I slept most of the flight home. His fiancée picked us up at the airport and they dropped me off at home and I went to bed.
The next morning my daughter dropped my granddaughter off at school and after not being able to reach me by phone, with my 3 year old grandson in tow, came to my house. She was unable to get me out of bed so after phoning her husband, he met her to pick up their son. Meanwhile, she had phoned my son Jason and he met her at my house. During the time she was gone I had gotten up and gone to the kitchen, was incontinent on the kitchen floor, and made my way back to bed.
When Jason arrived he carried me to his truck and proceeded to drive to the hospital. He passed 2 hospitals to get to the hospital I retired from , which my daughter is a nurse at. Once at the hospital, I was given a room in the emergency room immediately. The last thing I remember until 7 days later was the nurse telling the doctor my blood pressure was dropping and to start a fluid bolus. I was admitted to the unit I had retired from the prior year. After 2 days of confusion and administration of medication to keep my blood pressure up, the critical care physician placed an endotrachial tube and I was placed on life support.
My family was told there was a chance I might not survive. The urologist said my infection was too bad initially to place the kidney stent that I needed to drain my urine. Eventually I was able to maintain my blood pressure without medication but after the breathing tube was removed I went into a rapid heart rhythm. That resolved with medication.
After working with physical therapy to regain my strength, the unit social worker informed me the physical therapists were recommending I go to a rehab facility when I was discharged rather than go home. Prior to my hospitalization I had been a healthy, active person playing pickleball at least 5 days a week. In my mind there was no way I was going to be discharged any place but home. So I rallied and showed them I was able to walk around the ICU on my own and dress myself.
At the time my husband was working in Georgia. He left the morning after I was discharged to go back to work in Georgia, knowing I had 3 adult children nearby, one of them being a nurse. The weekend passed with me sleeping most of it. The infectious disease doctor ordered labs to be drawn on me on Monday. My daughter called me Monday morning and I told her I thought I was too weak to go. She told me we were going and came to my house to transport me.
The days that followed in the next 3 weeks were mostly spent going from my bed to the couch, sleeping for a couple hours, going to the bathroom, and sleeping more. It was not until I did some research during this time that I found there was a thing called post sepsis syndrome. The exhaustion I experienced was like no other. I became worried I would never return to my active lifestyle. I had no appetite and had to force myself to eat to maintain what little strength I had. I gradually was able to walk around our pool once, then twice, then to the mailbox, and finally around the block. I can’t stress the importance of pushing oneself during this time of weakness enough and know there will be a day when it will be better.
