Ronna Austin

In March of 2011, I was teaching at a college and excited about spring break week. I woke up around 7 a.m. on Monday, the first day of break, feeling like I had a bad case of the flu. I had severe body aches and in general, felt horrible. I went to the bathroom and, on my way back to bed, momentarily felt extremely nauseous — for literally maybe two or three seconds — and then, just as suddenly, a massive chill came over me. I got back in bed, pulling the covers to my chin, trying to warm up, but the intense feeling of being cold only got worse. My teeth started chattering and I felt like I was freezing to death. I have never felt so cold.

My daughter, who lived in Fort Worth, TX, at the time, called as she did most mornings. I was shivering so badly that I couldn’t answer the phone or even hold it. My youngest son answered for me and put her on speaker phone. She could hear my teeth chattering and asked what was wrong. I managed to tell her I had the flu and that I needed to just ride it out. Ironically, the college where I taught had just recently plastered Health Department Public Service Announcement posters all over the school that suggested staying home and riding out the illness if you had flu symptoms. The flyer cautioned against going to the doctor’s office where you might infect others. That gave me a false sense of security that I otherwise may not have had.

Fortunately, my daughter didn’t agree with that advice so she called my doctor and made an appointment. The earliest they could see me was the following morning. In the meantime, the office personnel advised drinking plenty of fluids and getting rest. They said there were about five different illnesses circulating at that time and I likely had one of them.

I barely remember the rest of the day. When I woke up the next morning, I felt like I might be dying — but I was too sick to care. The chills had subsided and now, I was burning up and could barely move. My oldest son helped me to the car and drove me to my appointment. I checked in, and drifted in and out of what I assume was a sleep state while I waited to be seen. When I got to an exam room, a nurse took my vitals and then, I curled up on the exam table and immediately fell asleep. When my doctor came in, my son roused me awake. I sat up as my doctor asked, “What’s going on today?” But, before I could answer, he took one look at me and his tone of voice turned very serious as he said, “Tell me everything that’s been happening. Don’t leave any detail out.”

As I started to recount my last 48 hours, I got to the part where I felt nauseous for those few seconds and then, got chilled. He immediately sent me down the hall to the in-house lab where they took a urine sample and drew blood. I slept while I waited for the results. My doctor finally came back in and told me I had a UTI (I never had any symptoms), a kidney infection, urosepsis (e-coli) and a fourth infection that couldn’t be identified because it was being masked by the other three. (Sepsis and Urinary Tract Infections, Sepsis and Bacterial Infections) He gave me an injection of strong antibiotics right then. He then told me I was extremely ill and needed to be hospitalized, but that he did not want to admit me to a hospital. He said 50 percent of all people who are admitted to the hospital with sepsis do not survive. So, with a prescription for antibiotics and a promise from my oldest son that he would keep a close watch over me and take me to the ER if I got worse, my doctor sent me home to start recovering. I returned to see him every two days for the next two weeks so he could monitor my progress.

When I first returned home from that initial visit, I was in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, when, out of nowhere, I thought, “I’m dying and that’s OK.” That was my low point and it frightened me. I felt like I was hallucinating — and likely was. I spent all week sleeping, pushing fluids and trying to eat but I had zero appetite. I took an additional week off of work and when I did return, I was totally drained of energy by early afternoon each day. It took several months to feel like myself again and not be tired all the time.

My doctor said it was the tiny detail about feeling nauseous that made him feel like I might be septic so I’m glad I mentioned that. He also said if I had waited one more day to come see him, I would have died. That was so surreal to hear. So, hands down, my oldest daughter saved my life by making that appointment for me and getting her older brother to make sure I went. Had it been left up to me, I would have never moved from my bed and wouldn’t be here today.

I’m very grateful to be a survivor when so many others have not been as fortunate. I lost a friend a few years back to sepsis that was brought on by the extraction of an infected tooth. He thought he was just feeling bad from having had a tooth pulled and died 48 hours after the extraction. Now, I tell my and my friend’s story to anyone who will listen in an attempt to educate people about the various ways someone can develop sepsis.

Thank you so much for reading my story.