My post-transplant immune system has led me to the ER three times, gotten me admitted twice and pushed me to spend a total of 13 days in the hospital.
It all started with fever, chills and migraines that wouldn't quit. First trip to the ER determined a surprise UTI as the cause. Then followed antibiotics and brief improvement.
Fast forward two weeks and exact same symptoms returned, only worse. I was admitted and treated for the now stronger UTI, sepsis(which had come from UTI) and the flu. Five days in the hospital and a week of IV delivered antibiotics at home brought relief.
Round 3 came a week after antibiotic treatment ended, and it was the worst yet. All the same symptoms, except even worse and additional complication of intense pain in my transplanted kidney and severe dehydration. My blood pressure was dropping to dangerous levels because of the sepsis and dehydration.
I realized I was too sick to drive.
My head was killing me.
I was dizzy and off balance.
I got a ride to my doctor's appointment. When I arrived, I was worsening. According to the lab tech, when I tried to stand up, I was doing "the dance." I heard her yell for help and felt her supporting all my weight. I couldn't keep myself up anymore.
They took my blood pressure: 59/43. My nurse told me I was going to be admitted. I responded with something I've never said before: ”I want to be admitted." I knew I was sick.
The next few days were whirlwind-y. I felt badly, but no one knew what was wrong exactly. i was quarantined for the first 6 days and only saw 3 people each day: 2 nurses and the doctor, all masked and gowned for everyone's safety.
Tests revealed I had the flu and a UTI and sepsis and a kidney infection and pneumonia. My transplant team concluded that the original UTI I got a month ago was never fully eradicated, got stronger and had brought on the kidney infection and sepsis. The kidney infection had spread past my transplanted kidney and into my native kidney. They were running cultures and trying to treat all this, but my headaches weren't improving and my fevers didn't stop. I was receiving a wide array of narcotics, antibiotics and rest-inducing medicine...my head was muddled.
The transplant team acknowledged they were concerned and didn't have the answers or a treatment plan. Hearing this while at such a low point physically was the most disturbing message I've received from a doctor yet.
Infectious Disease was called in to help. Their team tried multiple different antibiotics to see which one my body responded to positively. After some painstaking trials, they found one that was effective at fighting the unique type of pneumonia I had. A CT scan revealed that the previously unknown cause of my headaches was a very aggressive sinus infection. No one ever determined the cause of the fevers that remained long after they should have disappeared, but ultimately they also stopped. My body, after having been through so much physical trauma and medication, was so eager to simply rest.
Eight days in the hospital and I was cleared. Pneumonia was the toughest and scariest one. It took a while for them to find the right weapon(antibiotic) to use in battle. On the morning of my release, Dr Piper pointed at the monitor and told me how beautiful my lungs were. I laughed, grateful to be able to after the preceding week.
I am home now, and again on home-based IV antibiotics. I don't mind as much this time around; I really just want to be sure every possible bug/bacteria/threat is gone. I have been cleared of pneumonia and sepsis. The antibiotics are still chipping away at the kidney infection and sinus infection. I am still recovering from the illnesses and the treatment.
My head spins thinking about it all. I'm trying to be safe and rest, take care of myself. The hectic and stressful past and the unpredictable future haunts me when I lay down to rest, trying to take care of myself, trying to recover physically and mentally.
I'm tired and scared and alive and grateful.
And envious.
Envious of my body, my flawed and burdened body,
resilient in the face of every challenge.
My exhausted and tattered body,
with its telltale scars, battle wounds, wrinkles and stretch marks.
My perfectly imperfect body,
and its miraculous, against-all-odds, what-doesn't-kill-me-makes-me-stronger, never-say-die indomitable spirit.
I can't wait for my mind to catch up.
