Phil Carlson

I was awakened at 1:00 AM on a Friday with a terrible pain in my lower back – knowing this was different from anything I had previously experienced in my 77 years, I called 911. The fire department paramedics came storming into the house, followed shortly by the ambulance EMTs. The living room was suddenly full of people. I tried as best I could a description of the pain, and how it was “moving across my back and into my abdomen”. Having some experience many years earlier of how an infection feels as its leading edge spreads I made the point strongly that this was a concern. I was soon in the ambulance, headed off to the ER at the largest local hospital about five miles away.

At the ER a CT scan was run, blood tests were run, and I was given morphine for the pain. The doctor told me there was nothing conclusive so I was sent home by about noon! By 3:00, the pain was again unbearable so my wife drove me back to the ER where we waited in line so far down the hallway the triage nurse was barely in view. Eventually my wife left for a few minutes to talk to a doctor and suddenly I was being wisked into a triage room and then into a room for evaluation. I was then told it appeared I had severe sepsis (without shock) and my gallbladder would need to be removed on an emergency basis.

A surgeon was brought in – by Saturday morning I was in surgery then back to the ICU to try to stabilize my blood pressure. A day later I was moved to the surgical recovery floor where I was given a very heavy dose of antibiotics for the next four days while I attempted to recover enough strength so that I could lift a leg to get out of bed: it was on the fourth day I discovered I could actually move on my own and was given permission to move to the chair on my own, using my cane. During the full five days in the hospital I had a drain inserted in my abdomen that required emptying every couple of hours: the surgeon told me during his first visit that the infection in my abdomen was worse than he had ever seen before.

Not having had a chance to wash all week, the occupational therapist offered to help me shower on day four after the gallbladder surgery. The feeling of being clean after a week of extreme diarrhea and numerous procedures marked a turnaround in my mental attitude and soon a physical turnaround as well.

Now, four months after discharge from the hospital, I have still not regained the strength I had prior to this event. As this was my second experience with Sepsis in an eight month period, I have now learned I need to say “could it be sepsis?”