Monday, March 7, 2022, the first day of a new working week went normally until I developed a nasty abdominal/stomach pain shortly after noon. As the pain did not go away, I called the abdominal surgery service of a nearby hospital. There, I was advised to come in through the emergency room.
I discussed a few more pending issues and asked a colleague to drop me off at the emergency department. She wanted to go inside with me, but I waved it away and said there was no need. After registration, I took a seat in the waiting room. I called my husband who suggested coming to A&E, again I waved away the suggestion, but my husband closed with the words 'I am coming off'. The pain worsened and by the time a nurse came to get me , I was already groaning in pain. Going to sit on a chair was no longer possible and I was laid down on a bed in the corridor. I only remember the moment when my husband stood at the bedside and I was in so much pain that I asked him to let me go. Dying seemed so much better to me than this pain. And then the light went out.
Here and there, I remember snippets of conversations and dim images of my husband, my children or my best friend standing at my bedside. Each time I asked if I could go home and each time I got the same negative answer. I didn't understand and felt abandoned. In my head, a lot of movies played out in which I had to fight to survive each time. However, there was no realisation that I was hovering between life and death. Only after four weeks, I started waking up only to realise that my world had collapsed and my life had changed irrevocably. It was explained that I had been given a small intestinal invagination, but after, according to the doctor, a successful surgical procedure, my condition was found to have deteriorated sharply. A piece of dead intestine had remained in my body which caused me to go into septic shock. In my opinion, the sepsis was detected too late. They kept me in artificial coma for 10 days. Every effort was made to protect my organs, but the blood supply to my limbs was cut off. Even within the first month, my right hand and left fingers were amputated. Since by now my feet were also turning black and my right flank was affected, it was decided to transfer me to UZ Gent to increase my chances of survival.
On 15 April, I was transferred to the Burns Centre at UZ Gent. The entire team there worked hard to get me through physically and mentally. Talk about a top team! The agony was long: difficult communication through cannula, weight loss, high infection levels, pseudomonas, bedsores,... and a lot of pain. On top of that, a lot of fretting due to boredom, as I couldn't do anything either because my wrist and remaining palm were wrapped. I couldn't even use the TV remote control at first. In May my feet were amputated and another month later I was ready to start my rehabilitation in the rehabilitation centre of UZ Gent.
The start in the RC was mentally very tough. Suddenly you feel very vulnerable among all the rehabbers and therapists and you have to overcome many barriers. Already after the first week I was begging to be allowed to go home one day. I missed my familiar surroundings and my children. Fortunately, this was soon granted and, as my recovery progressed, I was allowed to go home for full weekends. I received my foot prostheses in August and my hand prostheses in December. By Christmas, I was home and allowed to continue my rehabilitation on an outpatient basis. I am extremely grateful to everyone at the rehabilitation centre. So many of them (nurses, logistics staff, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, social services, doctors, psychologists, prosthetists, fellow rehabilitants, ...) supported, helped and prepared me and my family to learn a 'new normal'. Admittedly one with many aids and sometimes a bumpy road, but with a loving family and a colourful and happy future.
During my rehabilitation, I met Ilse Malfait, who had sustained similar injuries a year earlier after Sepsis. She was the first to give me back perspective to be able to become a mother and wife again. She also told me the beautiful story and the goals of the non-profit organisation Sepsibel, which she wanted to develop together with Carine and Michael. I hope I can make my contribution by, on the one hand, assisting or supporting fellow sufferers or the families of fellow sufferers and, on the other hand, also demonstrate with my story how important early diagnosis is. I am convinced that a national sepsis plan can save many lives and reduce the medical consequences.
Cindy
EN 
NL 
FR