Sharon MacLean

On August 30, 2014, I received the call that changed my life forever. My mom called and left a message asking for help. I knew from the sound of her voice that something was terribly wrong. I tried calling her back again and again but there was no answer. When I arrived at her home, she was complaining of stomach pain, nausea, and chest pain. She was clammy to the touch and slurring her speech.

In the emergency room the nurses and doctors informed me that my Mom was in shock, that they were running tests, and would be giving her a chest CT to be sure she wasn’t having a heart attack. In the meantime, her blood pressure continued to fluctuate and she continued to experience severe abdominal pain.

I knew it wasn’t a heart attack. You see, my mom had experienced similar symptoms two years ago that required hospitalization. At that time, she had an intestinal obstruction. She was in the hospital for 18 days.

A short time later, my siblings and I were informed that she was in septic shock and that they had to locate the infection. An abdominal CT was ordered and the tests confirmed that there were numerous obstructions throughout her intestinal tract.

Hospital personnel immediately began treating her with fluid, blood pressure medicine, and treatment(s) started to try and move the blockages along. Unfortunately, because my mom’s blood pressure continued to drop, she was not a candidate for surgery.

My siblings and I left early in the morning after she was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. During the night, she continued to struggle to maintain her blood pressure and by mid-morning of the next day a central line was put in.

I arrived as they were finishing putting the central line in. When I was allowed to see her, she told me she felt nauseous, and then began to crash. The nurses and nurse practitioner informed her and me that she would have to be sedated and a breathing tube put in. I told my mom I loved her and went to the waiting room. That was the last time I saw my mom awake.

During the day and into the evening my mom’s blood pressure continued to go up and down, at times so low, the doctors weren’t sure she would make it through the night. The next day, my mom was taken off sedation and we waited for her to wake up. My siblings and I stayed by her side and took turns going home to our families.

The emergency care director was honest and forthright. There was no way to know whether she would get through this but they would do everything they could.

My mom’s kidney function started to diminish and then she started to retain fluid. Treatment after treatment was tried and failed. We had no way of knowing if she was in pain. No way of knowing if she was still in there. She couldn’t communicate, wasn’t moving, and while she initially responded to movement, over the next few days that stopped as well.

Even though the infection itself had started to turn around, the damage to her major organs had been done.

During this whole time, we stayed by her side, told her we loved her, and shared happy times. All the while praying that she would come out of it. See as we waited for a miracle, we learned a lot about sepsis and septic shock. We learned how patients are aware even if they can’t communicate. And we watched as hospital staff treated her with great care and kindness as they waited with us.

One last treatment option was tried unsuccessfully. We finally had to make the decision we dreaded making. We had to let her go.

September 6, 2014, was the hardest day of my life. The day we took my mom off the ventilator that had been helping to keep her alive as she fought with all she had to beat sepsis.

Although my story does not have a happy ending, my family and I were lucky to have had that time with her. My mom was diagnosed within an hour of her arrival and treated immediately. My local hospital was trained on how to detect sepsis and septic shock. Unfortunately, once a patient is diagnosed with septic shock, they face an uphill battle.

Patients diagnosed with sepsis should be given every possible chance to beat it. The only way to make that happen is through education. Education to prevent it, detect it, and hopefully, one day to beat it.

For those who have lost loved ones, my heart hurts with you. For those who have beat it, I send my very best wishes for both emotional and physical healing.

Source: by Kim Gaudiosi (Sharon's daughter)