Carol Forman

It was in March, 2013 that I had septic shock. I was sick, but I had no idea how sick. I had a fever and was vomiting, but I assumed it was a virus. I went to the hospital because my husband said I should. My life would be completely different today if I hadn’t. Once I got to the emergency room, everything changed. My blood pressure dropped significantly, my fever went up dramatically, and I began to have trouble breathing. I had septic shock caused by Strep A, toxic shock, pneumonia, and kidney failure. (Sepsis and Toxic Shock Syndrome, Sepsis and Pneumonia) The doctors told my family they would have to put me on a ventilator and they could not be sure if I would survive. If I hadn’t been in the hospital already when everything started to go wrong, I’m not sure I would have survived. I was 41 years old, and I had 2 daughters, 7 and 5 years old.

I spent four weeks in the ICU. I was intubated for half that time and sedated for 10 days. While sedated, I had vivid and disturbing dreams. In most of them, I was being held somewhere I didn’t want to be. I learned later that some of what I dreamt was related to what was going on in my room. I remembered stories the nurses were telling each other while I was asleep. Clearly, I was able to hear what people were saying.

When I woke up, I had no idea where I was. The first thing the nurse said to me was, “I’m within my legal rights to restrain you so don’t give me a reason.” I thought I’d been kidnapped and it wasn’t until later that day when I saw my husband and father that I realized I was still in the hospital. It was the strangest experience. I had no idea where I was, and because of the breathing tube, I was unable to talk. I couldn’t believe how affected I was by 10 days of sedation. I didn’t have the strength to even lift a paper cup. Luckily, my nurse that day, Tasha Dunn, was amazing. I felt that I connected with her immediately and she always seemed to know what I needed before I could try to tell her. Two weeks after being admitted to the hospital, I was extubated. The doctors and nurses wasted no time in beginning my rehab. The very next day, the nurses helped me into a chair and started physical and occupational therapy. My kidneys were still failing, so I was having dialysis on a regular basis.

After about two weeks in ICU, I was moved to a room on the renal floor. I was still getting intermittent breathing treatments as needed. I still would have difficulty breathing at times. On my second night there, I began to have some trouble breathing. The nurse told me that all my numbers were normal and I must be having a panic attack. This went on for several hours. She kept telling me it was nerves and she gave me a Xanax. She called Respiratory so I could get a breathing treatment. The treatment didn’t help, and the nurse took that as further indication that it was nerves. I had never had a panic attack in my life. I asked her to please stay with me until it got better. It never got better. Finally, she saw something in my “numbers” that alarmed her and she called the floor doctor who told her I was in respiratory distress. They called the rapid response team and I was rushed back to the ICU. I will never forget the nurse that was with me when I arrived at the ICU. I was well known in the ICU by then, largely because of how young I was. She recognized me and saw the fear in my eyes. She sat by my bed and held my hand until I could breathe normally again and was no longer afraid.

I was discharged from the hospital to a rehab facility, where I spent the next four weeks. I was the only person in the whole place that was under 70. My therapy there was amazing, and I had tremendous support.

Going home was the greatest day. I was so excited to sleep in my bed. I still had a long way to go. I had wounds on both feet due to the drop in blood pressure. I was supposed to stay off my feet as much as possible. Not an easy feat with two young children! It was 2 years and 1 surgery later before I was officially discharged from the wound care doctors. My feet are permanently damaged and I will always have limits on my physical activity. Still, I’m lucky to be alive and grateful that the after effects were not worse.