In March 2013, my life took an unexpected and terrifying turn when my body went into septic shock. Looking back, the journey began months earlier, masking itself as recovery from a seemingly successful surgery.
Just two months prior, in January 2013, I was in peak physical condition. At 38 years old, completing the Disney half marathon was a testament to my health and fitness. However, this foundation was about to be severely tested. One week after the race, I was abruptly awakened in the night by agonizing abdominal pain. The intensity was breathtaking, driving me to the bathroom floor. My husband immediately rushed me to the emergency room. A CT scan revealed a kink in my intestines, a diagnosis that lacked a clear cause but demanded immediate intervention. Emergency surgery was performed to remove the blockage and reconnect my intestines. Upon waking, I was told the surgery was successful, and I was discharged ten days later, seemingly on the road to recovery.
Looking back, the weeks following my discharge were filled with warning signs that were tragically dismissed. Instead of improving, the pain intensified. Within six weeks, I experienced a significant 22-pound weight loss. Chills, severe pain after eating, and persistent low-grade fevers became my unwelcome companions. My doctor, unfortunately, attributed these symptoms to slow healing from surgery, dismissing my growing concerns. I lacked the energy to challenge this assessment, but deep down, I knew something was profoundly wrong.
My intuition screamed that something was seriously amiss. I missed my daughter’s birthday party after a harrowing night in the ER, where excruciating pain had sent me seeking help once more. Despite the severity of my symptoms, I was sent home with a strong course of antibiotics, the diagnosis being colitis possibly resulting from the surgery. Three days later, my body reached its breaking point. Unable to keep down food or liquid, I was back in the ER, this time with a grim certainty that I would not be returning home so easily.
Due to my weakened state, I was unable to tolerate the barium needed for another CT scan. The attending physician ordered an abdominal X-ray instead. This revealed a small bowel obstruction, again attributed to the earlier surgery. I was admitted to the hospital and placed on NPO – nothing by mouth. Recognizing my malnourished state, the on-call doctor immediately ordered supplemental nutrition. A PICC line was inserted, and total parenteral nutrition (TPN) commenced. The initial plan was conservative: wait and hope the bowel obstruction would resolve on its own.
In the days that followed in my hospital bed, my abdomen began to swell alarmingly. Unrelenting nausea necessitated the insertion of a nasogastric (NG) tube to relieve pressure and drain bile from my stomach. By the fifth day, my distended abdomen resembled a third-trimester pregnancy. Weak and consumed by pain, even morphine provided minimal relief. Finally, further testing was recommended by a radiologist who sensed something was deeply wrong, but my doctor declined. The nurses, witnessing my decline, felt helpless. That evening, my vital signs painted a stark picture of crisis. My heart rate fluctuated wildly between 150-160 bpm, and my blood pressure plummeted. Nurses frantically called the doctor when my BP dropped to 89/53. By 6 AM on March 13th, my blood pressure had crashed to a critical 63/51, and I was urgently transferred to the intensive care unit (ICU).
Headshot of Amy Widener, sepsis survivor
The ICU doctors acted swiftly, pushing for immediate surgery, believing it was my only chance of survival. This is my last memory for 24 days, until I regained consciousness on April 5th.
My family later learned from the ICU team that I had been in septic shock. The warning signs had been present, but tragically unrecognized. My family became my steadfast support system, holding my hands as a ventilator breathed for me, my body swollen from fluids and antibiotics.
As my organs began to fail and medical interventions reached their limits, my husband received a 4 AM phone call, urging him to come to the hospital immediately. He was told there was nothing more the medical team could do, and when the last bag of fluids ran out, my heart was expected to stop. Against all odds, my heart persevered. I defied the grim prognosis.
We now understand that my rigorous half marathon training had unknowingly prepared my heart for the ultimate marathon – the fight for my life. My recovery required a new medical team, two additional surgeries, another year of supplemental IV nutrition, extensive physical therapy, and unwavering determination.
I am incredibly fortunate to be alive and thriving today. I am deeply grateful to the ICU team who saved my life. My experience underscores the urgent need for greater awareness and education about sepsis for families, nurses, and doctors alike, to ensure other patients do not endure the suffering I faced and to improve early sepsis recognition.
Amy Widener, Real Estate Consultant, Mother of Two, and Sepsis Survivor
