Shay R.

I never thought a urinary tract infection would nearly cost me my life. (Sepsis and Urinary Tract Infections)

Like many people, I believed a UTI was uncomfortable but manageable—something you treated with antibiotics and moved on from. Sepsis was not on my radar. I didn’t understand how quickly it could take over, or how quietly it could begin.

In the days leading up to my hospitalization, my symptoms felt easy to explain away. My sides were sore, especially along my back and ribs, but I was working out regularly and assumed I had pulled a muscle. I felt unusually tired, but life was busy and I pushed through it. I had recently undergone a complicated medical procedure that required a catheter, but at the time, I didn’t connect that experience to how I was feeling. I didn’t realize it increased my risk for infection. (Sepsis and Invasive Devices)

For about three days, I lived with those symptoms. I told myself they would pass. Nothing felt dramatic or urgent enough to stop my routine—until the pain in my sides became too hard to ignore. When I finally went to urgent care, I wasn’t expecting anything serious. I thought I might be told to rest or take anti-inflammatories. Instead, the provider examined me and told me I should go to the emergency room to be checked out, especially because of how much my sides were hurting. There was concern—but no sense yet of how severe things would become.
That changed quickly.

When I arrived at the ER, my vitals were taken right away. Almost immediately, the medical team placed me on oxygen. My blood oxygen level had dropped dramatically—from 99 percent to under 30 percent in roughly an hour. I didn’t fully grasp what that meant in the moment, but I could tell by the urgency around me that something was very wrong. Before any imaging was done, my body was already showing signs of distress. I was struggling, even though I hadn’t realized how close I was to a crisis.

Later, I was taken for a CT scan. I remember being unbearably cold in the CT room—shaking, unable to get warm, even under blankets. That scan revealed that the infection had reached my kidney. What started as a UTI had progressed far beyond what I—or most people—would expect. The diagnosis was sepsis caused by a urinary tract infection.

The infection had spread rapidly, overwhelming my system. The catheter from my earlier procedure likely created the conditions for the infection to take hold, but sepsis doesn’t need much encouragement. Once it begins, it moves fast and doesn’t wait for you to catch up.
There are moments from that time that are still hazy, but I clearly remember fear—fear that came from realizing how quickly my condition had deteriorated. One moment I thought I had a pulled muscle; the next, my oxygen levels were dangerously low, and my body was failing.
I survived because the medical team acted quickly and because I ultimately sought care, even after waiting longer than I should have. But surviving sepsis doesn’t end when you leave the hospital. Processing how close I came to dying has been its own journey. I replay those early symptoms often: the side pain I blamed on exercise, the exhaustion I minimized, the three days I waited because I didn’t think it was serious enough.

I didn’t know that sepsis can begin subtly. I didn’t know that oxygen levels can crash in minutes. I didn’t know that recent procedures, catheters, and infections significantly increase risk. I didn’t know that waiting—even a short time—can change the outcome.

Sepsis doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it looks like soreness you think you can stretch out, or fatigue you assume will pass, or an infection you plan to deal with tomorrow. That’s what makes it so dangerous.

I share my story because awareness saves lives. If I had known then what I know now, I would have trusted my instincts sooner and sought care earlier. I would have understood that something common can become catastrophic with frightening speed.

Sepsis changed how I listen to my body and how seriously I take warning signs. I am here because my care team recognized what was happening and acted fast when it mattered most.
I am a sepsis survivor—and I share my story in the hope that it helps someone else seek care before it’s almost too late.