Amber H.

My name is Amber H., and in June of 2024, I sustained an unimaginable injury at my home while working on a renovation project with my husband. The injury left me with a large, visible hematoma on my gluteus and in such agonizing pain that I was unable to walk, get dressed, bathe on my own, sleep, or function normally. I also complained of incontinence and urinary problems, which were all dismissed.

I spent the next nine weeks aggressively pursuing care while also trying to keep my family financially afloat as the primary provider for my husband and our four children. I pursued multiple visits to the ER, physical therapists, my general practitioner, neurosurgeons, and orthopedic doctors, all to be met with prescriptions for pain medications and steroids, but no investigation as to what the root cause of my injury was.
I fought hard, suggesting injuries like a torn labrum, a blood clot, a dislocated hip, a hip flexor strain, a gluteus medius tear, and anything else that could explain my symptoms, but unfortunately, my cries to over 10 doctors were ignored.

The medications caused awful side effects, such as lesions inside my mouth that would not go away, making it impossible to eat anything, even though I was so nauseated from the pain at all times that even eating was something I couldn’t bear to do. I began to convince myself that it might be cured with holistic care. I began scheduling twice a week for several weeks, enduring spinal adjustments, acupuncture, deep tissue massages, electroshock therapy, and other methods, which only aggravated the pain more.

I spent those weeks simultaneously fighting with my insurance extensively, as I had located ONE doctor who pushed for urgent and medically necessary additional testing and MRIs. Still, my claims were continuously denied, even after involving the president and CFO of the company I work for, to advocate to our insurance broker on my behalf. The insurance company would not budge on their denials for the doctor’s recommendations.

My co-workers were very supportive during this time. While I was at work, I would slink down to the floor and slide under my desk to try to receive some relief from the terrible pain. I would lie under my desk, just bawling and hoping that no one would come looking for me.

I transferred over to another chiropractor, and during my treatments, I started to experience extreme shoulder and bicep pain, in addition to throbbing hip, glute, and thigh pain. Pain so intense that I could not do basic things, like driving. I couldn’t shift my own car into park or drive, and insisted that my 11-year-old son accompany me so he could shift my gears and turn the wheel.

In late August of 2024, I met an angel doctor who spent a significant amount of time performing tests, reviewing notes related to my case, and expressing grave concerns. She ordered an emergency MRI for the following morning. I was finished with the MRI, and by the way the nurses were looking at me, I knew that something was very, very wrong. I left the hospital and made my way to my local bodega, where they serve one of my favorite breakfasts. In my head and heart, something told me that might be the last meal that I ate.

I drove to the park right next to my office, laid my car seat back in the warm August air, and felt like that was the end. Overwhelmed by a heavy sense of inevitable catastrophe, I lost consciousness. I lay there in my car until I finally “came to.” I didn’t know what else to do, so I drove myself to my work. I carried myself to my office and collapsed on the floor when my phone rang. It was a physician calling with my MRI results; she told me to call an ambulance and get to the hospital as soon as possible.

I was diagnosed with severe kidney failure, a bacterial blood disease, and a hemoglobin level of 3, and I quickly required four blood transfusions. All for what was later diagnosed as a septic hip joint, septic sacrum, septic pelvic joint, and after begging for an additional MRI, five days later, right and left septic shoulder joints. No one seemed to believe me or be concerned about my shoulder pain. My impression was that the doctors thought it was far-fetched for me to suggest that the shoulder pain was somehow connected. Turns out, it was.

After my surgery, I awoke and was unable to move my arms or legs. The surgery required the severing of my sacral nerves to remove the massive amount of infection. I was utterly helpless, like a baby. There in the hospital, in such agonizing pain, and unable to even arrange myself in the bed. I couldn’t sit up on my own for over a week, even with the mechanical bed that goes up and down. I could not walk after the surgery and required a catheter several times during my recovery. The surgeon warned my family that even though I would eventually walk, I likely would not run again.

I was eventually diagnosed with a detached librium hip muscle, which had bled into my sacrum, causing infection to grow and spread due to negligence from the doctors and insurance company.

My family stayed with me for those weeks to feed me, scratch my nose, brush my hair, and eventually, had to help me learn to walk again.
In late September of 2024, I got to come home—walker, wheelchair, and shower chair all in tow.

Today, at the second anniversary of my injury, I am proud to say that I am medication-free, can run 3 miles, and by the grace of God, I live to enjoy my life with my children and my family.