Andy Jablonski

Survivor

Imagine you’re at the bottom of a hill, and one more step and you fall off a cliff. Now imagine a boulder from the top of the hill breaks loose and starts rolling down the steep hill you were just on, and it just gains more speed and momentum. Once the boulder starts rolling, it cannot be stopped more often than not. Finally imagine this boulder racing towards you, you know you cannot stop it as it gains speed with every roll, yet you are determined try anyways, and as you draw what could be your final breath of life, with a millimeter left before the boulder falls and takes you with it, you stop it! You take a deep breath of relief, reliving the experience knowing it could have been your definite demise, knowing things could have turned out much different.

Another way to look at this analogy is birth. Once the expecting mom’s water breaks, there is no stopping the baby from coming. No matter how hard you try. You usually do not win. Unless your doctor knows how to work a miracle of science, and you had an act of God on your side. Now the same concept can be applied to a blood borne illness called sepsis. You usually never win.

I got a miracle in my favor once again because I did not realize I was going septic, and got to one of its final stages by the time I found myself in the emergency room, and eventually a nice long vacation on the intensive care unit. I just got off an airplane the day before from a business trip. I was not feeling well, had a fever, and was throwing up. The next day was my regular lab draw. When my vitals were taken I had a 104.5 temperature and a very low blood pressure. Told to go to the ER, I was stubborn and walked across the hall to my dad’s office in the hospital and asked him to take me home, I didn’t feel well. After further questioning, we ended up in the emergency room.

 

I work in the field of short bowel syndrome, and many of my patients deal with TPN or IV nutrition to help keep them alive, this always requires central venous access through a line such as a central line, portacath, or PICC line. All three give the patient a very high risk of infection if not cared for properly. (Sepsis and Invasive Devices)  A break in sterility in a setup can run a high risk of infection and sepsis. Upon further investigation and labs, and imaging we discovered my port was infected from using TPN therapy to help me gain and maintain my weight. That night I went to the ICU. I never imagined I might die from my own illness and its deadly side effect. I came close to that happening.

The very next day, I was bombarded by the Rapid Response Team. My lungs were failing me on both sides and I was unable to breath. I was sedated and intubated on a ventilator for ten days. My prognosis was very grim. Though I was determined to live, even though I was caught in a consistent dream that was very real, like I was living life as normal. Then I was awake, not knowing what had happened or even where I was, it was like waking up from surgery, but I knew I was in a hospital. People kept telling me I almost died. I kept denying that. I noticed I could barely move my body because of how weak I became just lying in bed for ten days. I was in the hospital a total of 17 days, which is relatively short for the condition I was in. Though I am resilient, just like when I was a child going up against unspeakable odds with my health. Recovering was a process. I still have struggles today from my sepsis. I am slower and have less energy than I did before that fateful November in 2015. I became more agitated and irritable. I didn’t feel like myself until almost eight months’ post leaving the hospital. I finally feel like my old self again. I went from being 120lbs to 110lbs by the time I left the hospital. Now down to 105 and maintaining which is what I was, plus a little more before TPN started in 2014.

The “Talk” was given to family members and friends, preparing them to say goodbye. Friends came to sit by my side, family came every day, every one of them, immediate and extended. The kids in my life were told what to possibly expect, that Andy may very well die soon. It was heartbreaking to hear all of this after the fact.

I did not realize the severity of what happened until I asked for my phone when I woke up. I had hundreds of Facebook notifications, emails, text messages. It took some retraining on how to type on my phones keyboard, but I finally got around to getting back to almost everyone within a day or two of me waking up. I was ready to get out of there. I was agitated and angry at the healthcare teams and quickly retook charge of my healthcare, as I typically need to help the healthcare staff understand my rare disease and how it affects my daily life and health. I was traumatized when I woke up because I believed I lost my health insurance, home, cost my parents their home, my dogs were both dead, my roommate was forced to move out, none of it was true. It took my parents bringing my dogs to me in the ICU to prove they were alive, and I forgave my roommate for freaking out on him (I thought he put down the one dog due to an accident (broken leg for Axle), and one died of old age).

I now live my life to the fullest. I have lost some of the things I once had. My stamina is not what is was. I wear out and fatigue more easily, some days my legs tell me, “no we are not gonna do much work today unless you make us.” Though for the most part, a year later I am back to my old self with those minor limitations. I do think about it, because of what could have been, and I think I found myself more traumatized once I woke up and realized what really went on when I was asleep. More nights than not I have trouble sleeping and staying asleep.

I fought once again unspeakable and unbeatable odds. Most patients my age and even younger do very well die more often than not when they become septic so late in the game like I did. I should not be alive, but somehow, someway, my small framed, 105lb body, stopped the boulder from flying off the cliff taking me with it. I am lucky to be alive and now I don’t take that for granted, as even the expert can succumb to his own illness.

Today, one year and 5 months later, I am feeling like I can once again do what I was able to do before my event. I now feel confident enough to care for a child, and fulfilling my desire to become a foster parent and to help out children in need of a home. I thought about that decision for an entire year before deciding to enroll in the class and submit the paperwork to the state for licensing. It is very exciting for me to open this chapter in my life. I was not able to complete my master’s degree as it became too much for me to handle after the sepsis event, as I went back to school no more than a month later, which I later regretted. I eventually decided to stop before I made myself more sick because of the stress of graduate school. Though when one door closes, another one opens. I also have more time to dedicate to my foundation for short bowel syndrome patients, which I have run myself with limited help for the past six years. I am fortunate and blessed to be alive, and no longer on TPN or have line access, I have had no issues since November of 2015. Not even the common cold. I am lucky to be alive, but glad I am, because I knew my mission in life was not yet complete, and now I get to continue my journey called life.

 

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