Aleha I.

I am a disabled veteran, work culture expert, and survivor of sepsis. Before this experience, In 2020, while serving on active duty, I underwent a total hysterectomy following years of debilitating pain. I had developed severe endometriosis as a result of a prior traumatic assault during a deployment several years earlier. The surgery itself was emotionally devastating, but I believed the worst was behind me. I was wrong.
Approximately ten weeks after surgery, I developed a high fever and intense abdominal pain. (Sepsis and Surgery)

Concerned, I went to seek medical care at my assigned military clinic immediately. Because I had a fever during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was denied entry and instructed to isolate at home after testing. I followed those instructions at first, trusting that I was doing the right thing. By the next day, my condition deteriorated rapidly. My body stopped functioning normally, and the pain became unbearable. I knew something was seriously wrong, so I made the decision to go to a civilian emergency room instead of waiting. That decision saved my life.

By the time that I arrived, I was in septic shock. I was told I was within hours away from organ failure and death. Sepsis had never been mentioned during my initial attempts to seek care. Had I stayed home as instructed, I would have died at home. They hospitalized me and immediately began aggressive antibiotics. The physical trauma was immense, but the emotional impact was equally overwhelming. I had survived combat zones, yet this nearly killed me quietly…invisibly.

Recovery was long and complicated. Over the next two years, my health continued to decline in unexpected ways. By 2022, I had lost more than 60 pounds due to malnutrition and persistent gastrointestinal issues. Eventually, I received another life-altering diagnosis: gastroparesis. My stomach is now permanently paralyzed, a lasting consequence of my illness. Eating is no longer automatic. Every meal now requires planning, patience, and acceptance. Living with chronic illness has reshaped every aspect of my life. I experience ongoing fatigue, pain, and limitations that are not visible to others. Sepsis did not end when I left the hospital—it followed me home and changed my future.

Before all of this, I was known as a high performer and leader. Afterward, I had to relearn how to exist in a body that no longer functioned the way it once did. Healing has required both medical care and deep personal resilience. What helped me most during my recovery was being believed—by the ER physician who finally recognized the severity of my condition, and by the few people who showed up when I could not advocate for myself. Those individuals inspired me to find purpose in education. I returned to school and completed my Doctor of Education degree, with a focus on psychological safety and trauma in healthcare and higher education.

Sepsis changed my life, but it also clarified my purpose. I now understand how quickly symptoms can escalate, how easily warning signs can be missed, and how critical early intervention truly is. I share my story because sepsis does not always look dramatic at first. Sometimes it looks like a fever. Sometimes it looks like being told to wait. Sometimes it looks like following instructions that place your life at risk.
If sharing my experience helps even one person recognize the signs sooner, trust their instincts, or seek care again when something feels wrong, then telling this story is worth it. I am alive today because I listened to my body when it mattered most. I am a survivor—but my story is far from over.