Ron Mann

On January 6th 2013, I woke up coughing and with a sharp pain in my lower right abdomen. I told my wife that I need to go to a walk-in clinic. When we arrived at the clinic, we had to wait 1.5 hours to be seen. When I finally went in, the doctor examined me. I was poked here and there, and finally the doctor said there was nothing wrong, even though this pain was the worst pain I have ever felt. We left the clinic and went home.

We pulled into the driveway, by this time the pain has gotten much worse. My wife drove me to Miriam Hospital, and by this time I was also having chest pains. I was seen immediately. I was given a chest x-ray, and was diagnosed with double pneumonia. (Sepsis and Pneumonia) It’s funny. My breathing was fine at that time. I was admitted that day, and was given a room a little after midnight. The hospital was not admitting anyone unless you had a life threatening illness, all beds were taken. I only recall being admitted. My wife gave me all the details later.

I was then diagnosed with double pneumonia, sepsis and MRSA. (Sepsis and MRSA) The doctors told my wife, “It’s a good thing you got him here when you did, if you waited any longer my chances of survival would be slim.”

On Tuesday, I had gotten progressively worse. I was not able to breathe on my own so I had to be intubated. I was also in so much pain the doctors had to put me out. My wife had no idea that I was intubated and out. When she arrived that day, the nurses warned her that I was intubated and out, with 6 or 7 IVs going into me at the same time. I was out for 1 week. During the time I was out, my temperature was 102 – 103 and they could not get it down. I was given cooling blankets, then my temperature was fluctuating up and down up and down. They were finally able to get it under control. I also had extremely low blood pressure, which was another major concern. Close family came to visit with me and just sat with me, worrying.

When I woke up the following Tuesday, my throat hurt like heck from being intubated. I was repeating lots of things. I could not feed myself to well, everything was falling out of my hands, and everything tasted disgusting. That was from all the medicines they were pumping into me. As the days went on I’ve gotten a little better each day. I was in the hospital for 17 days. I remember asking the doctor, “when can I go home?” His response was maybe tomorrow, tomorrow never seem to come. LOL. I went into the hospital weighing 165lbs, the day I left the hospital I weighed 150lbs. When I was sent home, I had a pic line in my right arm. It went all the way in to about an inch of my heart. I had medicine that I had to inject into myself for the next 3 weeks, 3 times a day. Still everything tasted horrible and I lost more weight. I was in bed for a good month after getting home, getting up just to use the bathroom and to stretch my legs. I was getting so bored. Everyone was praying for me to get well while I was in the hospital. I told my wife that her mom was looking over me. She was more like my own mother, at least it seemed that way.

I always say to myself, “I was on my death bed, geez that’s so scary.” I often think back and get a little emotional. But I thank God that I’m still with my family. This was an incredibly BAD journey for me and especially my family.

I have a word of advice, if you feel ill, get yourself to a doctor quickly. It’s best to be safe than sorry. This disease takes to many lives.

Be SAFE!