Kidney Stones and Sepsis A Rocky Road to Healthy Living

"You could die from this."
The only response I could think of  was, "Okay."
What else could I say?
After the third time a doctor said, "You could die from this," I finally came up with another response. "But I won't die because I'm here."
Here was in the ER. The doctor rolled his low stool up closer to me and with great earnestness as if trying to impress upon me the seriousness of the situation,  he said, "You have a blood infection. What this means is you are sicker than the average bear."
"Okay," I again responded.
"You have an infection from the top of your head to the tip of your toes running through your body. It's really ugly bacteria."
"Okay," I said.
"We're going to admit you."
"Well I expect so!" I responded.

Was I in denial?
Yes.
Did I fully grasp the danger?
No.

I'd had kidney stones at least twenty times in my life.   Only one had led to a kidney infection in the past. But this time, that little ball of calcium oxalate had done a number on me. Kidney infection. Violent chills. Fever. Body ache. It was bad. I'd called my urologist who told me to go immediately to ER.
"Any time you have a fever with kidney stone that indicates an infection" he said.
 My husband drove me immediately to the ER.
After the normal protocol,  pain meds, fluids and a CT Scan, they told me I'd passed the stone but that my kidney was very inflamed and infected. They sent me home with a prescription for antibiotics, 600 mg of ibuprofen and instructions to drink lots of water.

I had no idea until the hospital called me the next morning to tell me that my blood culture showed that the kidney infection had led to Sepsis.

I wasn't scared.
Five days in the hospital. Round the clock antibiotics. Lots of attention from the staff.

A bout with bi-lateral atelectasis - collapsed lungs and pleurisy - concerned me more than the infection. I couldn't take a deep breath.  "I could die from this," I thought.  Not being able to breathe was scary.

I was released with doctor's orders to stay home for two weeks. No strenuous activity. No driving.  Oral antibiotics. A breathing mechanism for my lungs.

 My legs stopped working right. They felt like lead.  My gait was odd. My joints stiffened. My fatigue level was off the charts.  I had absolutely no energy.   I suffered from insomnia. I was teary and depressed. The post-Sepsis recovery did scare me. The possibility of relapse was real. That scared me.

As I began to research Sepsis recovery, I began to realize how serious my illness was. People have since told me all kinds of stories about people they knew who had died from Sepsis.

It has taken me over a month to start feeling somewhat normal.  My energy level and stamina are not at full throttle.  I don't feel like the same person. There is a distinct sense of the before Sepsis me and the after Sepsis me. It is a demarkation. A re-set. A wake up call.

I've never been in denial about mortality or so I'd thought. But the truth is, I don't think I had ever seriously thought about dying.  My body had done something surprising to me and I still can't quite grasp that. I've had so many kidney stones that I'd come to accept it as just a chronic condition. But never had I thought that a kidney stone could kill me.

This was a wake up call. But it was not about appreciating life more or living each day to the fullest. No bucket lists. This wake up call was about my health.

I began researching kidney stone prevention. I found that my condition is considered kidney stone disease. After taking a twenty-four hour urine test, I found that I have high levels of calcium oxalate and uric acid and low levels of citrate.

Diet and life style changes are required. It's never easy to restrict one's diet - but this time, it feels like life or death. I never want to get another stone and I never, ever want to risk a kidney infection or Sepsis.  

I didn't fully grasp while I was in the hospital what was happening to my body.  But I do now.  I'm taking kidney stone prevention seriously. Low oxalate diet. 2 liters of water a day. Lower sodium. Lemon in my water.  24 hour urine test every few months.

I found an online course called the kidney stone prevention course https://jillharriscoaching.com
When I went in to my doctor for a follow up, I took a list of questions I'd gleaned from this course and everything panned out. He took my questions seriously and responded to each one. I feel like I am both well informed and in control of health care.

So to anyone reading this who may have a similar condition, take it seriously. Do your homework. Listen to your body. If you have a fever with kidney stone pain, go to the ER immediately because you could die from this.

Okay?  Okay.

One Hundred and Two

You were born 102 years ago.
 Elsie Vera Reid.
September 21, 1916
The Last Rose of Summer.
Panama Canal Zone.

Ga Ga
Big Stuff
 Tomato Face
Els 
The Little White Haired Lady
You had a lot of nick names...
but to me you were
 Mom
Mama 
Mother
in that order.

Mama, I've spent a lot of time thinking about you today.
How is it possible that I could miss you so much when you've been gone for eleven years?
Maybe because I had you for forty-eight.
That's a long time in our family.
I only had Daddy for twenty-two years.
 My brother for thirty-five.
 You outlived them both.

I see you.
In your station wagon.
At the bank.
At your desk at 608.
On the couch at 509.
On the lounge chair by the pool.
At the bar in the den.
On the floor when you heard Daddy had died.
By Bob's hospital bed as he lay dying.
Next to me when I was a little girl, stroking my arm.
Holding my children in the kitchen at 408.
Sitting in your car waiting to pick them up from school.

With each passing year I realize your strength.
I admire your courage.
I respect your honesty.
I see your point.
I'm sorry I never told you that, Mama.

Sure you were tough.
Fierce.
Protective.
Exacting.
Difficult.
True.

You were a survivor because you had to be.
And that DNA, thankfully, you passed on to me.

Do we ever really know our mothers?
I don't think so.
Mothers are unknowable.
 They always fall short in our eyes.
They don't understand us.
They don't know how to listen.
They don't know what to say .
They fail us.
 Inevitably in some way
they fail us.
And we are too selfish to understand that it doesn't matter.

So in turn
we hurt our mothers.
We reject
avoid
ignore
punish
blame.


We waist precious time being angry with our mothers and forget we won't always have them.

But mothers are
Resilient
Patient
Forgiving
Unconditional.

That is their true strength.

On this, your 102nd birthday,
Mom
Mama
Mother
I honor you.
I salute you.
I thank you.
I love you.
I miss you.
I remember you.

A bouquet of gratitude -
one hundred and two roses for Elsie Vera.
Mama.