Valerie Dursi-Barbuti

I am a sepsis survivor from a misdiagnosed ruptured appendix that I walked around with for 5 days. (Sepsis and Appendicitis) I was a 23-year-old healthy young woman, having recently started my dream job. In 2013 my boyfriend (now husband) went with me to our local emergency room, as I was concerned I had appendicitis. After having extreme sweats during the night and being cramped over on the floor I felt something was terribly wrong. So much so, that we practically ran out of the house, I felt there was no time to call a taxi or car (didn’t have Uber then) and insisted we take the public bus that happen to be driving by at that very moment. Every bump, every jerk of motion, was excruciatingly painful.

While waiting in the ER, I told my husband I felt I wasn’t being taken seriously, being written off as a young female with menstrual cramps. Hours later, sweating and shaking, I walked out of the waiting room and into the back of the ER, where I sat on the middle of the floor. This was my way of begging to be seen, since I wasn’t verbally being heard. From there I went on to having a misread CAT scan, given medicine for a urinary tract infection (which I did not have) was told it was an ovarian cyst and to treat with heat. I was then sent home with Percocet for pain and prescription strength Motrin for fevers. The hospital did not take my blood; had they performed a simple blood test they would have quickly seen my extremely elevated white blood cell count which is indicative of a massive infection.

When I arrived home, the pain was back, I then scheduled an appointment with my OB/GYN for the following day. That night, the pain continued and my fever went to 104 degrees. I was lucky enough to have my parents pick me up and my mother accompanied me to the OB/GYN. After having a sonogram, I was told it was not an ovarian cyst, but a mass and “with medicine we need time” to know how to move forward. So, to continue with Percocet and Motrin. To me in that moment, I felt yes finally, someone has an answer, I will be okay. My mother recognized the red flags, mass . . need time? My mom requested they do a blood test as the hospital did not do one. The gynecologist told us, if I did not have a fever when I was in the ER, they didn’t have to. Well, I didn’t know I was supposed to tell them to perform a blood a test. If I could have fixed myself, I certainly would not have sought medical attention.

Sent home with unknown blood test results, with an unknown mass, still on Percocet and Motrin I was told to give it all time and let it pass. My parents and I called the doctors back that night and the following day, still expressing the severity. The healthcare professional prescribed me Vicodin, because it would make me “feel very nice.”

Three days later, after many follow up phone calls from my parents and myself requesting the blood test results, I was then advised to meet the OB/GYN in the hospital as soon as possible. I wasn’t in an operating room until almost the following morning. They went in to operate on what they thought may have been a cyst bleeding within itself, as whatever was inside was quickly growing.

When coming out of surgery, it was “a doctor’s worst nightmare” as my abdominal cavity was full of infection and they weren’t able to see any of my organs or where the infection was coming from. They performed an abdominal clean out in which they installed drains from my waist to continue collecting fluid from my body. In the care of this hospital for 5 days, I had “good nights” and “bad nights” with my parents closely monitoring me and taking my temperature constantly. I then took a turn for the worst – with dangerously low blood pressure, lack of oxygen and my body swelling, the medical attentiveness to my “dicey situation” and “sometimes we have to leave it in the hands of god” approach was wrong. My family had to quickly take action to get me transferred by ambulance to another hospital.

When I arrived, the trauma surgeon and team in the ICU were waiting, prepared for my arrival and ultimately saved my life. They quickly changed my antibiotics, treated my double pneumonia we didn’t know of and addressed plans of attack for the septic shock from this unexplained infection inside. (Sepsis and Pneumonia) I felt I was signing my life away, as I gave permission to remove anything inside of my body that would help save me, that included all the organs that were wrapped up in this massive infection. A week in ICU, and a week in their step down unit, I responded to their treatments, had procedures done while awake because I was too weak to put to sleep and miraculously, I did not have an invasive surgery in removing any of my body parts.

When leaving the hospital, I moved back home with my parents for 3 months of recovery. I was on IV antibiotics administered by my father, oral medications and a nurse that came once a week to monitor me and my IV PICC line. During this time, I worked to regain strength in my entire body, from my eye site, to talking, walking and lifting my arms. The fight continued, as I went back to my dream job, with short term memory, anxiety attacks, PTSD, depression and knowing future struggles I may encounter with conceiving a child, which I didn’t dare speak of or acknowledge until seeking help a year later. (Sepsis and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)

They never found my appendix during surgery or in CAT scans during that time, nor did they remove it. Most doctors and infectious disease specialists find it hard to fathom I survived this.

My appendix burst, almost killed me and dissolved itself.

I am blessed to be here, and for everyone who has supported and played a part in my journey and road to recovery. Thank you to my parents who fought a hard fight when I couldn’t, to my sister who was my strength when I didn’t have it, to my family who was at the hospital and afar that were the supporters and strength of our family unit, to my friends that encouraged, listened and kept me functioning on a daily basis. And lastly, to my now husband who worked hard for our life to be picked back up from where we left off and over time we learned together how to communicate about ALL the good and the bad life throws our way.

When my mom came across Sepsis Alliance through her research on the recovery of a sepsis survivor and their families, she suggested I take a look at the platform. It took me years to acknowledge sepsis, and to read any of the stories on here. I have learned true empathy and am fortunate for platforms like Sepsis Alliance.