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My experience with sepsis involves infertility and IVF. For anyone reading this who may be experiencing either of those, please understand that this story might be triggering but it does end well. For context, during this period of my life I had a three-year-old daughter, a husband and was generally healthy.
Between March 2022 and February 2023, I had lost three pregnancies. Those eleven months of my life were very traumatic and devastating for myself and my husband. After experiencing so many losses in such a short period of time we decided to try IVF. I had two cycles in total. Both failed. The first cycle led to no embryos being viable, and the second led to only one frozen embryo that might not be viable. This sepsis story involves my second, and final, round of IVF.
May, 2023: My second IVF cycle
After several days of hormone injections and scans, I was ready to have my eggs collected in the hope that we could make some embryos. I went in to outpatient surgery for egg collection (or harvesting), which is considered a low-risk and minimally invasive procedure, after saying goodbye to my husband and daughter. I knew exactly what to expect. In and out in a couple of hours. I was just hoping the surgeon would get more mature eggs the second time around. I got my wish! We got about 14 mature eggs and most were easily fertilised! Three embryos made it to day 8, which is the stage where we can test them genetically. Unfortunately, all embryos were genetically abnormal. Another failed IVF round. However, it was more than just a failed IVF round, it was a deadly one.
I remember leaving the IVF clinic after the harvest and wishing the woman next to me good luck. Little did I know that I’d need all the luck I could get over the next week. During the egg harvest I had contracted a group A streptococcus (group A strep or GAS) infection, which led to sepsis. Not only did our second IVF round fail, I also nearly died.
I was so extremely sick after the egg harvest. It was like I had the worst gastro ever. My specialist thought I might have ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS), which can happen during IVF, and told me that if pain and antinausea medication weren’t working and I got worse to call an ambulance. After 48 hours of agony, it was time to call it. I needed to get to the hospital. I remember telling my husband that I was feeling like I was going to die. Bizarrely, I was right. He called me an ambulance. However, I was considered low priority. An uber took me to hospital instead.
I was rushed to the resuscitation unit soon after reaching the hospital as my heart rate was extremely high and blood pressure was extremely low. I was put on life support straight away. Despite the doctors and nurses giving me all the medication they could, nothing was working. My inflammatory markers were extremely high, so the primary diagnosis of OHSS was wrong. They needed to operate to look for the source of infection. I needed an abdominal washout to clear the infection from my abdomen and confirm the source (they weren’t sure if my colon was damaged during the harvest, which might have led to an infection). They said I could die without the operation as their treatments weren’t working. I was scared. I didn’t want an operation, especially not one that could lead to a colostomy bag if my colon was the source of infection. But then I thought of my daughter and what was best for her. She needed her mother to be alive, with or without a colostomy bag. Once I started putting her needs first the decision was easy. I was to have the operation. I was operated on at 1am the next morning as an emergency case.
I remember telling the surgeon before I went under that he was not to perform a laparotomy unless he absolutely needed to. After rehabbing people after laparotomies in the hospital as a physio, I knew it was a hard road to travel. Eventually I woke up after the surgery and the first thing I asked was whether I had a laparotomy. No, I did not need a laparotomy, and I did not need a colostomy bag. I just needed a washout to get some serious bacteria out of my abdomen, which was done laparoscopically. I was one of the lucky ones.
After the surgery I had a wound drain and urinary catheter for almost a week as I stayed in the hospital, away from my family on Mother’s Day. When my daughter came to visit me on that day, I realised that I had been focusing so much on trying to have another child that I had forgot to appreciate what I had right in front of me. I almost died trying to have another child while not appreciating the one I already had. That was it. From then on, I was going to focus on what I have and I stopped being so focused on trying to achieve more.
Time in hospital was eye opening. As someone who used to work in one, it’s fascinating seeing it from the patient’s perspective. There is a lot of waiting around to learn what was to happen next. There’s a lot of moving from one part of the hospital to another, especially when I was first admitted. I remember being in the emergency department, then resus, then ICU, then surgery, then back to ICU, then off to the ward (as well as all the travel for tests in between). The ward was quiet despite the noise. It was like every patient there existed in their own little silo. We all had our own problems with the primary goal to get out of there. I wanted to get back to my family, hobbies and my own bed! I used my physio skills to begin my rehab. I walked a lap of the ward the day I arrived there from ICU and almost collapsed when I got back. It was like I had lost all of my conditioning over the few days I had been in hospital. My body was exhausted. Every day I walked a little more, did some steps, even went to the café and outdoors so I knew I’d be physically ready to leave once I was medically discharged. I also had to do it for my family who visited me every day as seeing me moving gave them confidence that I was recovering.
After over a week of being in hospital, I was discharged home. I was glad to be at home but I soon realised that, as a mum, home is not a place to relax and recover. The day-to-day tasks of simply keeping a home, even walking down the street to fill my prescription, was exhausting. However, I was very lucky. Many people who survive sepsis do not return to their former selves physically and/or mentally. I returned home with physical and psychological scars, but I did not lose limbs or any physical function that could not be rehabilitated. I realise how lucky I am and I truly think this outcome is due to me getting to the hospital in time and my hospital treating me in time for sepsis. Not everyone gets the treatment they need in the time it is needed and they suffer permanently for it.
I continued to see infectious diseases and cardiac specialists for several months post-discharge. Post-sepsis syndrome is real. I had brain fog, fatigue and could not physically function the way I previously had due to those things. I had nights where I couldn’t get to sleep because thoughts about my experience with sepsis came flooding back whenever the world would go silent. My heart took a beating (no pun intended) from sepsis, so it took some time for my cardiovascular fitness to return. My kidneys also took a while to return to full function. However, despite the ongoing difficulties I experienced, I fell pregnant naturally two months later.
Experiencing post-sepsis syndrome during pregnancy was interesting as many of the signs and symptoms overlap. Pregnancy can be physically taxing on the body, and my body was already exhausted after winning a fight against sepsis. Pregnancy can lead to brain fog, fatigue and can have negative impacts on mental health, which post-sepsis syndrome can too. So, it was very difficult for my specialists to distinguish between the two as the cause of my symptoms. Regardless, I continued to improve slowly with close monitoring. Our son was born healthy and happy on March 24, 2024, at the same hospital that saved my life.
I am a 63 year old nurse practitioner, wife to Bruce, mother to Sarah, Katie, Sean and Scott, Nanny to Will, Mila and Winnie. I have a large family, my parents are still alive, they immigrated from Scotland when I was a toddler. I have 4 sisters and a brother, lots of nieces and nephews. We are a very close family.I did my nursing training over 40 years ago in Perth and have a wonderful career, with experience in ED, ICU, as a clinical teacher, clinical nurse specialist and now as a Nurse Practitioner in primary health for the last 10 years. Despite this I was still not aware that I had sepsis. I had never been a patient in my life (apart from childbirth).
My sepsis journey began 20 months ago in the beginning of June 2023. I had a backache which came on suddenly and by the next day was having difficulty walking and experiencing pain like I had never before. I told my husband to call an ambulance, which surprised him greatly as I always said ED is for emergencies and very sick people.
I was taken to ED and over the day given strong pain relief, bloods were done, a pelvis Xray and ultrasound showed inflammation in my groin and lower back muscles. I was discharged on crutches, barely able to get into our car. I felt there obviously was nothing seriously wrong as I had been assessed by the medical staff. How wrong I was.
I became worse over the next 4-5 days, starting to hallucinate and become confused, difficulty getting to the toilet and up and down from it, and my bed. Pain like I never imagined. When I had some numbness around my perineal area, what is called ‘saddle paraesthesia’ I knew this was bad.
Bruce called another ambulance and was taken to another ED. Then began the fight for my life. I had an MRI which showed a spinal abcess from T7 – L2. I was commenced on antibiotics for staph Aureus (likely skin source), which caused a delayed reaction called DRESS (drug reaction with eosinophilia and systemic symptoms). I had a rash all over and my kidneys started to fail, so I needed dialysis.
I dont remember a lot of the next few weeks, I was delirious and hallucinating. I had 10 teams involved in my care. I had pneumonia, COVID, and lung collapse. The Infections Diseases and Acute Medical team were working hard to help me. My family was constantly by my side, and advocated for me constantly. There was a lot of confusion around my wishes and if I would survive or possibly be paralysed. UI was too sick for surgery and the neurosurgeons said I would not survive. During all this my children put down everything to be there and advocate for me. Bruce was I think he would agree in complete shock and unable to understand how I could become so sick, as were my children. My sister Lisa and her wife Ton were also a bedrock to me.
I had multiple Code Blues and my family were told to prepare themselves for the worst. At this time they questioned why I was not going to a higher acuity area such as ICU, they were told I was getting the care I needed . An ICU doctor was ‘keeping an eye’ on me after hours. My medical team were also advocating for me, they were outstanding in their diligent care of me, as were the nurses, I was ‘hard work’ as one of them told me later.
I turned the corner jsut after my son’s thirtieth birthday on 26th June and the infection began to respond to the new antibiotics.
I was discharged at the end of July, frail, mildly cognitively impaired, but happy and so grateful to be alive. I chose to go home as I was waiting for a rehab bed for a week and I had not slept properly for the whole hospital stay, apart from constant treatment and care, I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up. I struggled with fatigue, mobility, and balance, I had flashbacks to my hospital room, I was in pain all over, even in my hands. I had no post discharge care apart from the Infectious disease clinic for six weeks as I was still on antibiotics and having bloods (there is a slight risk of recurrence of the abcess).
I pushed myself a bit more each week and got back to the pool for some therapy, I then started swimming, as much as my frozen shoulder would allow. SLowly slowly I got stronger. I had psychotherapy and a technique called REMD (rapid eye movement desensitisation) which cured my flashback. I was surrounded by love and support from my family through my whole journey, and I know this plus excellent medical and nursing care (and grit as my ID consultant said) got me through. A lovely nurse told me – you must have something left to do as we all thought you would not make it, so she went home and prayed for me. The kindness of medical, nursing and all staff was something that stood out to me and as a nurse I had always known how important it was, but had never been on the other side.
It took me over a year to recover physically and psychologically. I now swim up to a kilometer 3-4 times a week, I work part time and find joy in every day (well most – I am human). I value above all my family, friends, the land I live in and love, kindness and human connection, and I am determined to live my life the best way I can. Every day is another one to be lived and thankful for.
On 10 August 2003, my life was shattered. My son, Preston, died at the Mater Children’s PICU. He was two and a half years old. Preston had been suffering from pneumonia, which caused acute lung injury. This allowed a secondary bacterium to invade his body, causing overwhelming sepsis. Preston was promptly put on life support but died a few short hours later.
The cause of death on his certificate reads: Pulmonary oedema, septic shock, disseminated intravascular coagulation secondary to sepsis.
Three weeks earlier, he was diagnosed with pneumonia. I wasn’t stressed the day I took him to the emergency room. He was active and happy, but I could tell by his cough it was pneumonia, and we had to address it immediately. He had suffered pneumonia previously and had a history of hospital admissions but always bounced back.
His paediatrician and respiratory specialist told me he would eventually grow out of it. He was robust and healthy in every other way. When we were seen in the Emergency Department, I told the attending doctor that Preston had pneumonia. The doctor checked his whole body, unconvinced that it was pneumonia because he couldn’t detect it using the stethoscope. Finally, a chest x-ray and blood sample confirmed pneumonia. The decision was made not to admit him, so we were sent home with antibiotics.
Over the next two weeks, Preston had good and bad days. On Saturday, he became more uncomfortable, crying, feverish, and refusing to eat. I called the respiratory specialist, and the locum opened the clinic to see Preston. I felt something was terribly wrong. After listening to his chest, checking his blood oxygen level, and taking another blood sample, the locum prescribed different antibiotics and sent us home. He said to call if I was worried, but reassured me that the new antibiotics needed time to work. A few hours later, Preston’s lung collapsed, and we were back in the emergency room. No one seemed to know what was happening to my son until he was in the PICU. I had been told that his body was shutting down. I didn’t hear the word sepsis as a cause of his death until almost ten years later.
In the months and initial years after his death, I was told that what happened to Preston was uncommon—it was just really bad luck. His death was due to complications from pneumonia, which is rare for a normally healthy child. I agonised over my son’s death for years, questioning my actions in taking care of him and seeking help.
Over the past eight years, I have come to know more and more families who have lost their precious children to “complications” from illnesses like Preston’s. And that these “complications” all share the same name: sepsis. And these complications are preventable. This makes the loss of my son even harder to understand.
Children get fevers, infections, and viruses—but they also get sepsis, and it is not rare. The challenge is that kids can’t articulate or even show how sick they are—they really fight being sick as they want to run, learn, explore, laugh, and play. This creates an enormous challenge to diagnose sepsis in children in time for life-saving treatment. That is precisely why identifying and treating pediatric sepsis needs more research, resources, and diagnostic training.
We are a privileged society, and a child who can be saved should never die—they are our future. My son would be a young man today, and not a day goes by that I don’t imagine what a smart, compassionate, hard-working, and kind young man he would have become—a real asset to this world. I really can’t bear the thought of losing more children like Preston when more can be done.
On the 28th of September 2022, at the age of 59, my life in Brisbane QLD took a drastic turn for the worse. I had a throat virus a few days before and wasn’t feeling great, but I didn’t think it was serious. Each day, I felt worse, experiencing diarrhea and fluctuating temperatures. On the 27th of September, I went to a local GP, who said it was a virus and gave me a pathology form for swabs. Feeling quite sick, I decided to rest and get the swabs done the next day. My knowledge of Sepsis was limited, and the question “could it be Sepsis?” never occurred to me.
The next morning, I woke up struggling to breathe and told my husband to call an ambulance. He saw my lips turning blue and called immediately. Thankfully, the ambulance arrived within fifteen minutes, followed by two critical paramedics who recognized my sepsis symptoms. They started an antibiotic drip right away, which the ICU doctors later told me probably saved my life.
I was taken to emergency at the Princess Alexandra Hospital in Brisbane. Still fully conscious, I tried convincing myself it wasn’t serious. However, after being assessed, I was sent to ICU and put in an induced coma for two and a half weeks. My family was told that I had sepsis and that all my organs were shutting down. My daughter, living in London, rushed back home, and my youngest sister came immediately from Mackay.
During the two and a half weeks I was in a coma, my husband, son, daughter, two sisters, extended family, and friends experienced unimaginable trauma, uncertain if I would recover and what my life would be like if I did. My organs were failing due to the infection, and the ICU doctors prescribed many medications, including trial drugs. My husband received phone calls during the night from doctors asking him to make serious decisions regarding my treatment. I required dialysis because my kidneys weren’t functioning due to sepsis.
I had gone from leading a perfectly active life with a loving family, including three beautiful grandsons, my own bookkeeping business, lots of travel, and a very social network of friends, to being extremely weak, unable to talk, and struggling to move. Each family member played a vital role in my recovery, talking and encouraging me while I was in a coma. This illness showed me that the love and support of family and friends is the most important thing, and I couldn’t have survived without it. It also taught me the importance of asking the question, “could it be sepsis?”
The next ten months in the hospital were a major challenge, involving regaining my strength and recovering from sepsis to return to my life. The major issue was an ankle injury I had before developing sepsis, which succumbed to infection. While in a coma, I had three operations on my ankle to cut away the infection, and another one after coming out of the coma. Bedbound due to the wound and too weak to stand, I required dialysis for my kidneys.
The care I received from the ICU doctors and nurses at the PA Hospital was absolutely amazing. I spent nearly four weeks in ICU before being transferred to the renal ward for dialysis and rehabilitation. The staff at the PA Hospital did everything they could to help me, and I was moved to Canossa Hospital in Oxley for four months of rehabilitation, including Christmas 2022. The doctors, nurses, and physio staff were great, making my life in hospital as comfortable as possible. I was able to leave the hospital for a few hours on Christmas Day to celebrate with my family, lifting my spirits and making me more determined to get better.
During the ten months in the hospital, my family and friends continued to visit and support me in my rehabilitation, which meant the world to me. Visits from my three grandsons were special, and in May 2023, while I was still in the hospital, my granddaughter was born, bringing me great joy and strength to continue my rehabilitation.
In February 2023, I faced a new challenge. After four months of treatment, the plastic surgeons explained that my ankle wound wasn’t healing as expected and would require several operations, involving twelve months in the hospital with uncertain results. The other option was to amputate my left lower leg and aim for a prosthetic leg, taking five to six months in the hospital. With my family’s support, I chose the amputation option. Once the operation was completed, I felt stronger and healthier as my body no longer had to fight the infection in my ankle.
The next five months in Bunya Ward, an amputee rehabilitation center at the PA Hospital, were challenging. I started losing some hair from the effects of the operations but was determined to build my strength to use a prosthetic leg. The staff, including doctors, nurses, physios, occupational therapists, and prosthetists, motivated me and helped me achieve this goal. My experience in the ward was very positive, resulting in me getting a prosthetic leg in June 2023. Two wonderful amputee specialist physios provided care, encouragement, and humour, building my physical and emotional strength and helping me return to the life I enjoyed before sepsis.
On the 21st of July 2023, I left the hospital, a joyous day. Life after sepsis is different, with a new appreciation for being alive and spending time with my family and friends. I try not to sweat the small stuff and enjoy creating new memories, especially with my grandchildren who see life simply and make me laugh a lot. The love and support from my family have made me feel extremely loved and given me a positive attitude. This experience has made me determined to spread the message that sepsis is a deadly condition and needs more awareness. That is why I am telling my story.
In 2008, at the age of 20, my life changed forever. What started as a complication from a surgery turned into a battle for survival—one that I was not prepared for but somehow endured.
The first signs of trouble were subtle at first. I felt unwell, feverish, weak and in and out of consciousness. Within hours, my body was failing me. I had sepsis, a life-threatening response to infection that rapidly spread poison throughout my body. My organs began to shut down, and I was placed into an induced coma and my family were given the terrible news I was only going to survive overnight and were told to say their goodbyes.
I somehow beat those odds but was never out of the woods of danger yet, While I was in the coma, the medical team worked tirelessly to save me. They performed multiple surgeries to address the damage caused by the rampant infection. The poison had now also entered my lungs, leading to a severe condition that required drastic measures. Surgeons were forced to remove portions of my ribs to access and drain my lungs. They inserted tubes to keep the infection at bay and allow me to breathe.
During this time, a tracheotomy was performed to secure an airway for my survival. The breathing tube became both my lifeline and a constant reminder of how fragile my existence had become. The infection had ravaged my body so extensively that my muscles and organs were weakened. When I finally woke up, I was unable to talk, and my body no longer moved as it once had. I had to learn everything again, from walking to forming words.
Rehabilitation was a long and painful journey. Physical therapy sessions were gruelling as I fought to regain the strength in my limbs. Speech therapy became a daily practice to reclaim my voice. Each small victory—a faltering step, a whispered word—was a triumph over despair. There were moments of doubt and unbearable frustration, but my determination to return to the life I had once known kept me moving forward.
The surgeries on my lungs left lasting scars, both physical and emotional. The trauma of having my ribs removed and drains inserted was an experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone, yet it was the price I had to pay to stay alive. My body bore the marks of my fight, and every scar told a story of resilience and survival.
Looking back now, it feels surreal that I lived through such an ordeal. At 20 years old, I had to confront my mortality in a way most people can only imagine. But I also discovered a depth of strength and resilience within myself that I never knew existed. Surviving sepsis wasn’t just about beating an infection; it was about reclaiming my life, one hard-fought step at a time.
Today, I carry the lessons of that time with me. I cherish every breath, every movement, and every word. I am a survivor, and while the scars remain, they are symbols of my journey—a journey of survival, courage, and hope
Trigger warning: below are confronting images, taken on a phone in 2008 during Carlie’s hospitalisation.
Hello, my name is Matthew Turner.
I am the youngest child of Andrew Turner who on the 25th of August 2023 passed away suddenly from Sepsis at the age of 58.
My Mother Sandra was married to Dad for 37 years. Mum and Dad were always there for us and we always knew that we could count on them for anything. I have two siblings, Ashleigh and John, we knew that no matter what our parents were always there for us.
When my Dad became unwell I believed that he would be ok as not much ever kept him down. He lived with Rheumatoid arthritis for years yet he never would let that be a barrier for anything, he was always so strong and would continue on. It seemed as though he would only be in hospital for a short time, he was sick but he would be ok.
Even so I felt uncomfortable about the situation and decided to take work off just in case he needed me (maybe even just for some Macca’s instead of hospital food). I never did make it down to the hospital to see him before he passed because I thought he would be ok, I still regret this.
Only a few days prior John and I had been playing cricket with him and it was as if he’d been taking it easy on us forever, we had no hope of getting him out and he was having so much fun. It happens that quickly.
When my brother John came down in the early morning (around 2:45am) to tell my wife, Jess and I that Dad passed away it didn’t feel real and I don’t know if I showed much of a reaction, it didn’t sink in until we had just about reached the hospital.
Jess drove us and has been an incredible support to me. Anyone that knew my Dad knew they’d lost someone very special much too soon.
It has been just over a year since we lost Dad and it effects us all deeply still. I still struggle with sudden changes a lot, when there are milestones such as Birthdays, Christmas and graduations there’s a part of me that is excited but at the same time there’s another part that wants more than anything to see my Dad.
I hope that in sharing our stories about the impact Sepsis has on people’s lives that we are able to spread awareness on this disease and save the lives of many people.
Sepsis is something I knew nothing about – like so many others.
My first encounter with Sepsis occurred when my daughter, Lola, was born. My wifes pregnancy with Lola was the most “normal” of all our 3 kids. However, when she was born she quickly stopped breathing. She was grey, silent and lifeless. I remember the midwifes hitting a button and what seemed like 100 staff rushing into the room. After a minute that felt like a lifetime, she was resuscitated. It was obvious she was still very unwell. We quickly learned that she had pneumonia, meningitis and developed Sepsis. She spent some time in the hospital and was transported to Westmead Childrens to have a central line put in for antibiotics for a couple of weeks, eventually she got to head home and be with my wife, myself and her loving siblings. It was the most frightening, stressful and devasting time I had ever experienced.
I wish my experience with Sepsis ended here…
On the 20th of August last year we had a birthday party for my daughter, Poppy. Towards the end she whinged she wanted to go home, we stuck around for a bit and then she vomited. I now think she had eaten too much garbage, but it was the start of one section of what I now think of as “the perfect storm”. The next day my wife and I went out with the kids to see my wifes family, Lola vomited in the car, which is pretty standard as she gets carsick all the time. She only vomited once, but we thought maybe there was a bug going around – the continuation of the perfect storm.
On the 22nd of August my dad came around to my house with my mum and had a firepit with my family, completely unplanned we messaged and organised it. I didn’t know this would be the last time I would see him. As my parents went to leave, I offered to load up dads drop saw in his car as I had finished borrowing it. Dad said maybe next time and that he felt a bit tired and out of sorts, I should have known he was unwell from this alone, he had been bringing up that I still had it for weeks. Later that night he became unwell, we thought he just had a bug and expected he would be okay in a day or 2.
On the 24th I woke up and mum had messaged saying dad had gone to the hospital in an ambulance, all his vitals were okay, but they thought they’d take him just to get checked out. Once there, they noticed his BP was low and then began treating him with broad spectrum anti-biotics. He was later diagnosed with Sepsis. In the early afternoon he was transported by helicopter to a bigger hospital, again we were told it was a precaution and it was just quicker to go by the helicopter, and it wasn’t due to an emergency. Mum called in to my house on her drive down there to pick up a bag, I was off work sick and kept my distance but got told about a few of the things going on – maybe I was unwell and couldn’t comprehend it but I didn’t know how serious it was. Dad was met by his friend who was a nurse at the hospital, he spent time with dad until mum got there. Mum was told to go home that night, as dad was expected to be there for a while getting anti-biotics and treatment for his kidneys and she would need her rest. She called later in the night to check in and tell dad she loves him, there was no warning of what was going to happen.
At 2:36am on the 25th of August my hero, my dad, passed away. I got the phone call from my mum and sister at a bit past 3am, waking up my wife and son to my cries and yelling of no. I had to tell my son that his hero had died before driving over to tell my brother. We headed down to the hospital to say our farewells to dad – too late to really get to tell him we love him endlessly. I made promises to dad that my kids will never forget Pa, that I would do my best to take care of mum and my siblings and to live my life in a way that would make him proud.
After getting home it was obvious I was increasingly unwell, so my wife called the GP, after mentioning my symptoms my wife mentioned dad, and alarm bells went off. I was told to go to hospital straight away. A nurse called back 5 minutes later to make sure I was on my way. I ended up being admitted with periorbital cellulitis causing my forehead and eyelids to swell and generally feel extremely unwell and suspected menigitis. Earlier on the 24th of August I had an overwhelming heatwave take over me, causing what I can only describe as a seizure type response, uncontrollably shaking my arms and going rigid. I almost got my wife to call an ambulance, and she was asking if I needed to go or if she should drive me, but I resisted – I am now so glad I didn’t go, as I got to at least spend some time with my mum and siblings with dad. I spent my first days of grieving in a hospital where my dad had been less than 24 hours before, away from my family.
I still have an uncontrollable guilt that I wasn’t able to help dad and that I got to leave hospital, while he didn’t. I couldn’t stop the “perfect storm”. The last thing my dad did for me could have been that he saved my life, I wish I could thank him, I wish I could have done the same for him. Should I have been asking, “could it be sepsis?”.
I miss my dad every single day. If the words “could it be sepsis?” were used earlier, would this all be different?
To honor my dad, and to raise awareness about this terrible infection my family and I are raising money and have set up a facebook page, Andrews Cause – Sepsis Awareness. We have held a barefoot bowls day, a trivia night and I will be running a 12 hour run challenge.
Andrews Cause – Sepsis Awareness
I think about my dad every single day and how Sepsis has robbed me of an amazing dad and my kids of an amazing Pa.
I love you, dad.
John with his children, father Andrew and daughter who suffered sepsis, Lola.
At 23, after a quiet Saturday night dinner with a friend, following a ‘common cold’, I thought I had bitten my tongue. Tired, I lay on my bed, icing my tongue. Less than an hour later, my tongue had swelled, started to block my airway and left me speechless. We suspected anaphylaxis and my Aunt bundled me into the car and raced to hospital.
The local hospital tried everything they could but hadn’t seen this before and made the call for an emergency ambulance transfer to a bigger hospital. When I arrived at the bigger hospital, there were nearly 20 doctors and specialists waiting. They transferred me to the Intensive Care Unit, where they put me in an induced coma, paralyzed me, and put me on life support (ventilator). My family was told to prepare for the worst as I remained a medical mystery and the doctors raced against time.
I had scans, tests, and infectious disease specialists; but kept deteriorating. The rash burnt the top half of my body, my tongue blackened from lack of circulation and there were talks of amputation. The real cause was sepsis, resulting from Ludwig’s Angina and cellulitis. An unknown infected impacted wisdom tooth shown in a CT scan nearly cost me my life! I had no pain, good oral hygiene and no other symptoms, but the infection took over my body and nearly killed me.
The infection swelling started to crush my jugular vein and there was concern for blood flow to my heart and brain. Thankfully, they saved my life by surgically removing the tooth, inserting neck drains and putting me on heavy dose IV antibiotics.
I’m so thankful to be here and determined to make a difference in the world, give back to the hospital and change sepsis. It was in that hospital bed that I made the decision I had been given a second chance at life and to wear my scars with pride, so that others feel okay about theirs, too. I am so grateful everyday just to be here to join the fight against sepsis and make an impact. Knowing this is not just my story has led to the development of the FACE Sepsis Project in partnership with Sepsis Australia. I now educate dental and primary care practices on the signs, symptoms and importance of escalation and prevention of sepsis. Together, we can FACE Sepsis and make a difference.
In the early hours of 12 July 2015, I was settling my daughter after she’d woken. As I left her room I banged my elbow quite hard but gave it a rub and went back to bed. An hour or so later I awoke to golf ball size swelling on my elbow and extreme pain. Within two hours I was shivering uncontrollably and rocking back and forth screaming for my husband to take me to hospital.
I spent 12 hours in emergency with staff checking me for a dislocated elbow and various other ideas. No one knew what was wrong. My heart rate kept increasing and my blood pressure was dropping.
I arrived in a ward in the evening and my blood pressure was routinely checked. It had hit 60/40. The nurse advised she needed to call a team from ICU as I was in septic shock. That nurse saved my life.
While I was prepped for emergency surgery, they put a phone to my ear and asked me to quickly let my husband know what was going on. They let me know I was very, very sick and this was very serious. It then hit me; I might not wake up. A sudden calm came over me. I told myself there’s nothing I can do. If I wake up, I’m going to make it.
I woke up in the early hours of the following morning on a ventilator. Immediately I wanted to fight. I was moaning and breathing around the tube. I knew then I was alive and was going to make it.
It took me a good 3 months to feel remotely normal and my ongoing side effects have been memory loss and brain fog, weakened immune system, fever and chills (I say I have a broken thermostat). My biggest challenge has been others’ understanding. At work I was asked “when will your arm be better”? My arm was the least of my worries.
Today I’m just so thankful to be alive. I count my blessings daily and don’t sweat the small stuff so much. I have an amazing husband and beautiful daughter plus the love and support of our wider family and friends.
I want to do whatever I can to increase sepsis awareness – particularly here in Australia. I try and spread awareness any way I can, every day. Hearing other sepsis and septic shock stories has been therapeutic for me and I encourage anyone that would like to make contact to do so. I created the Australia and NZ Sepsis Support Group to help people who have experienced sepsis to share their stories, advice and build a community. We now have over 660 members in our very active group.
Jessica, shares the story of her son, Ryan, and his journey encountering paediatric sepsis.
Ryan was happy healthy little boy who just turned one years old, when he started coming down with flu like symptoms in December 2022. His symptoms deteriorated and he became very lethargic and not wanting to walk. We brought him to our local emergency department twice, as his condition worsened he was flown out to our nearest major hospital. On arrival we were told that Ryan was in severe septic shock and unfortunately he went into cardiac arrest. CPR was performed for 10 minutes. We were told our little boy wasn’t going to make it.
Magically Ryan came back to us and it was confirmed that he had Strep A which had progressed to septic shock.
Ryan had many factors against him collapsed lung, multiple dialysis treatments, vocal cord damage, minor brain damage and unfortunately due to everything Ryan had two major surgeries to amputate both of his lower legs and amputate some fingers and all fingertips.
We have long journey ahead but know we can get through it with all the love support around us.