Doreen Bettencourt

Survivor

I arrived at the hospital on 3/29/04 for what I thought would be a routine surgery and I would be back on my feet in 2 or 3 weeks. After all, I was only going in to have a cyst taken off my ovary. It turns out to be this surgery would change the course of my life. (Sepsis and Surgery)

In the morning of 3/29 I was sitting in the waiting room with my mom, waiting to be called into the pre-op area and my son Jon walked in. I didn’t know it then but he came to the hospital because he had a strange feeling about this operation. I was taken to the OR for surgery and then went on to the recovery room.

The doctor came to the waiting area and told my mom he didn’t think I would be needing any more surgery, a comment to this day she doesn’t understand why it was said. I then was taken to the fourth floor to my room. That night I was not feeling well at all. I was in pain, anxious, and I was not myself. Family was in to see me and I was more quiet than usual. My sister Deb voiced that I was flush and warm. I told the nurse about my pain and I was told that it was normal after surgery, that it was gas and I was given a “laxative.” I was also told I need to “ambulate.”

The following day I was still in a lot of pain that was still being attributed to “normal after surgery.” That day, the doctor was going to discharge me but I told him I didn’t want to go because I felt sick. The pain was getting stronger and I was again instructed to ambulate to “move the gas around.”

By 10 pm on 3/30, I was lying on the bed, holding the side rails and I called for the nurse again. At this point I was alone and extremely anxious because the pain was intense. The nurse walked in the hall with me because “ambulating helped move the gas.” I continued to call the nurse throughout the night.

On 3/31 at 5:25 am I could feel myself giving up. The pain was intense. I hit the call light once again and when the nurse arrived in my room I was having “rigors” and an elevated temperature. My heart rate was in the 170s. My blood pressure was low.

At that point, many people were called to my room. They were struggling to get blood from me because I was shaking so bad. They started pumping me with cardiac meds and were preparing to send me to the ICU to be monitored for a cardiac issue.

My mother was called in and it was then explained to her that they now believed I had a perforated bowel and was septic, and I could die. I was taken back to the OR and when they opened me up they found “gross spillage of bowel content” in my peritoneal cavity. They dumped 6 liters of fluid into my abdomen in an attempt to clean it out. The doctors then “ran the bowel” looking for the hole. I was cut from one hip to the other, with the wound left open to heal from the inside out. A wound vac was put in place. They also placed an NG tube, which I kept pulling out due to confusion, so I was restrained to my bed. My mom told me I would offer anyone who walked by my bed fifty dollars to untie me. We laugh about that now, but it was not funny then.

My hospital course was complicated with high fevers, both lungs partially collapsing, a hypoxic brain injury, fistulas with high output, severe edema through my whole body, pneumonia, pleural effusions, several LARGE abscesses scattered throughout my abdomen and my legs had atrophy, just to name a few. I had a central line, then a triple IJ line (a central venous catheter three ports/lumens/lines), then a picc line to go home on IV TPN: IV feedings. No food or water for two months…the dreaded “NPO” (nothing by mouth). I was put on octreotide treatments, which made most of my hair fall out. Throughout this ordeal, I lost my job and my housing. I became co-dependent on my family for support. I lost my independence.

My brother took on the role of caring for my younger son, my mom slept on the side of me for the first three weeks, and then alternated with my sister Diane. My sister Deb would go home after work and cook for whoever was staying with me at the hospital; my family would visit and my brothers in Florida began calling constantly. My cousin Sandra would talk to me nightly at 10 pm as I would get my last shots of octreotide for the night. I got nine shots a day in my abdomen and heparin (blood thinner) shots in my legs daily. My friend Cheryl slept at the hospital one night, and my son Joe slept there for a week to give me some kind of normalcy back.

My dad would send my mom $1,500.00 a month in an attempt to keep me afloat. When I left the hospital, I went to my mom’s house for aftercare. Physical therapists would come to her house to work with me because I had atrophy in the legs, I was unable to walk up any stairs without someone to help lift my body weight and nurses would come pack my incision a few times a day.

I will never forget the doctors who saved my life, Dr B and Dr M. I will always be grateful to the nurses after the second surgery, who went above doreen_and_momand beyond. Prior to being operated on I was a Coca Cola employee and lost the position due to the fact that my position transferred to Florida and I was too ill to go. I then went back to school and became a Registered Nurse and graduated Phi Theta Kappa and Psi Beta. I was determined not to let the lingering brain injury due to SEPTIC SHOCK defeat me. Thank You CCRI, especially Shelly Olausen from Disability Services, Monica Lee from Access to Opportunity, and Pam Forant from Finacial Aid for working so closely with me to ensure my SUCCESS.

Update February 6, 2014

I am happy to let you know that I have continued on with my education despite the hypoxic brain injury and I will graduate in May with my Bachelors in Nursing. I am very excited that I have reached this accomplishment.

doreen_son2 doreens_son_gkids Doreen_and_dad

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