Health Update 2

Following my emergency department (ED) visit, I contacted my infectious disease doctor's office and ask for the port to be removed. The doctor placed orders for the port to be removed. This time, though, he requested the procedure be done under general anesthesia. Praise God!

A few more weeks passed before I could have the port removed. During this time, I had received no antibiotics. I was quite sick. I knew I needed IV antibiotics, but I also knew I needed to get the port out ASAP. A hospitalization could delay getting the port removed. I again endured the infection in my lungs in hopes I could get treatment after the port was removed.

When I was able to have my port removed, the coronavirus was just starting to erupt on to the national stage. Thankfully, no additional precautions were yet in place at the hospital. The procedure could go ahead as planned.

When the port was removed, thankfully I was under general anesthesia. Unfortunately, I did not tolerate the anesthesia well. I vomited when they moved me from the procedure table back on to a gurney. I then vomited again in the recovery room. I felt tremendously sick when trying to recover from the anesthesia. I could tell something was terribly wrong. I stayed for many hours in the recovery room, but I continued to feel very poor. I finally was allowed to leave.

Once discharged, I knew I needed to go to the ED. Something was not right. I rested a few hours, and then I went back to the hospital.

At the ED, blood work showed I had a very elevated white blood cell count. My resting heart rate was 150 beats per minute. I was diagnosed with sepsis. The ED doctor did not know if I was sick from having the port removed or if the bacteria in my lungs was causing another infection. Either way, I needed to received IV antibiotics. I was admitted to the intensive care unit (ICU).

I spent about 30 hours in the ICU. Then I was moved to a step down unit. Shortly after arriving in the step down unit, a resident doctor came to my room. He told me I was not sick. He said he was discharging me home without any antibiotics. My mother was very upset by this news. I had been in the hospital less than 48 hours. My 48-hour blood cultures had not been resulted. Additionally, my respiratory sputum cultures were not resulted. My mom demanded I be kept inpatient until the source of may infection could be figured out. The doctor decided perhaps I should be kept in the hospital until the 48-hour blood cultures came back. What he did not tell us is that he was discontinuing the antibiotics immediately.

The next morning, I was having difficulty breathing, chest pain, chest heaviness and had an elevated heart rate. The resident informed me my 48-hour blood cultures were negative. Although I had bacteria growing on my respiratory cultures, this was just colonization and was not making me sick. Also, my elevated white blood cell counts were not related to an infection. He was sending me home without any antibiotics. The doctor made an appointment for me to see my pulmonologist for follow up care. The physician also told me I was making up my symptoms. He suggested I see a psychiatrist. I was discharged home despite feeling very unwell.

Over the next several days, my health quickly deteriorated. Five days later, I went to see my pulmonologist for my follow up appointment. Before I saw my doctor, I saw one of her fellows. The fellow asked a few questions and quickly examined me. She did not wait for me to breathe in and out before moving around her stethoscope when listening to my lungs. She said my lungs were fine. She left the room.

When my pulmonologist arrived in the exam room, she did not listen to my lungs. She did not ask any questions about my health. When my mom expressed her dissatisfaction about the way my health concerns were dismissed at the hospital, the physician exploded into an angry yelling rant, which lasted for the rest of my appointment. The doctor told me she also believed I was not sick. She said she thought I was faking it. She then told me she never wanted to see me again.

I was shocked and stunned by these words. My pulmonologist manages my respiratory needs. Now that my doctor was abruptly abandoning me, I suddenly had no one to manage my ventilator--a machine I need to live! I was overcome with tremendous fear and panic.


(Link to Part One click here)