I'm age 52 and have just joined this forum after surviving sepsis (septicaemia and cellulitis) in March this year. No doubt what is to follow will sound familiar.
I came home from the office on the 2nd of March after a totally average day, feeling tired and lethargic. So what's new ? Went to bed and woke up next day feeling worse so went to see the doctor who took one look and said, "Go to A&E now!".
At first, I didn't want to go. There was no pain, just tiredness. Why go to hospital, especially A&E?
My wife and son, bless them, insisted on getting me to the local A&E and the last thing I remember of that was being wheeled through the doors. Had I lived alone, I'd have gone back to bed and popped my clogs. As it was, two weeks later I awoke from an induced coma, wired, tubed and floating on a morphine-induced pink cloud, wondering what the hell had happened and where I was. Gradually, I gathered a befuddled picture of what had happened and, as soon as they could, my wife and son visited to explain the details.
The sepsis had started in my left leg, leaving several ugly wounds which needed debridement in a series of operations. There was a debate at the time as to whether or not the leg would be amputated but, luckily, that wasn't necessary. I spent a month in ICU and a total of nearly three months in hospital, by which time I could shuffle slowly along the ward on crutches. The wounds are still 'mummified' in layers of dressings and bandages today, some nine months later with the addition complication of oedema.
Despite all the above, I was struck by the Muse,
Oh, ‘twas at the start of March this year,
I had a nasty fright,
When a most severe infection,
Put me in a plight.
“This isn’t good”, the doctor frowned,
“Go straight to A & E,
I diagnose septicaemia,
Making you a casualty.”
A fortnight in a coma,
With a month in ICU,
Wired-up and tubed and drugged,
I really had no clue.
Eleven long weeks in hospital,
Weak and feeling sick,
The indignity of bed pans,
Then shuffling on a stick.
But now things are much better,
So as my body mends,
I’m indebted to the medic staff,
And my family and friends!
I hope you're not left writhing in agony after that tortured doggerel, rendered in the style of the great William McGonagall.
As it is, I can at least walk around on a stick now but get tired easily, all the while coming to terms with my brush with the Grim Reaper. I know what I've just said is similar, if not identical, to your own experiences but it is good to know that you fellow survivors are out there and all the best to you for the future.