Ever witness a miracle? Here is my story of how God saved my life when a doctor misdiagnosed me. From misdiagnosis to miracle – my story of survival.
the beginning of almost the end
I have been to Sierra Leone, Africa many times. I believe the trip I took in October of 2018 was my 8th trip. I support an orphanage there (sierraleoneproject.org), so I count about 50 beautiful African children as my extended family. I will write more about this amazing project in another blog. The trip was wonderful, getting to see all my kids, and it is always sad to return home. But I knew that in a few short months I would return, as I would go twice a year.
About a week after my return, we were at my pastor’s house for dinner. While we were sitting at the table, I said I wasn’t feeling good, and I got up to go to the restroom and passed out. When I woke up, my husband and pastor were leaning over me and I could hear voices in the background of a couple of friends praying for me. I had no idea what was wrong but went home and hoped this feeling would go away.
The next day I was not feeling well at all – dizzy, tired, flu like symptoms. After almost passing out again, Jim took me to the local ER. When I checked in, I told the girl I had just come back from Africa, and I could have malaria. When we saw the admitting doctor, I repeated that … these look like malaria symptoms. They put me in a room where I laid on a bed for hours with not much activity from doctors or nurses.
Finally, they said they did a malaria test, they believed I had a viral infection and sent me home saying “take some Tylenol and don’t be around babies or old people.” They also said, “we’ll call you if the test comes back positive.” I did not have a strong knowledge of malaria – I only knew the kids at the orphanage got it frequently and they would get treated and feel better. I didn’t know it was as deadly as it is. As we would learn later in my medical records (that amounted to a stack of paper 8 inches high), that first doctor wrote “at low risk for malaria” in his report. He could not be more wrong.
The next 3 days were brutal – severe nausea that would come in waves so strong it felt like I was being tossed in the ocean, fever, lethargic, severe dizziness. We would come to learn these are all symptoms of malaria as the parasite causes your system to spike and drop. We finally called my primary care doctor who said to come in, so I decided to see if I could take a shower. I blacked out – out cold – eyes rolling behind my head.
Jim took me back to the ER, only this time I was pretty much unconscious and experiencing such severe nausea it was unbearable. They rushed me to the back as I passed out again at the check in station. They took another malaria test, this time with immediate results showing I had a deadly infection. A severe malaria infection is determined once 5% of your red blood cells are infected with the parasite … my red blood cells were 30% infected – they said one out of every three. They could not treat me there, so I went by ambulance to a larger hospital where a second test revealed a 17% infection rate.
To make a long story short, the next 5 days I would be in the ICU fighting for my life. I would get my blood checked every 2 hours (my platelets were down to 5000 – a healthy person registers at 150,000-450,000), I needed wires monitoring my heart because I was on such strong anti-parasitic drugs, I was hallucinating, I had severe nausea, I became jaundice as all my organs were shutting down so I received a blood transfusion, I was extremely swollen, I got my period because my body was in trauma, I was loosing fluids from every which way because my body was fighting infection. I then spent another 6 days in a recovery room where I thought I would never feel good again. I remember very little during this time, but I remember vividly a few things. I knelt on my bed BEGGING God to take me to heaven. My best friend had passed away the year before from cancer and I just wanted to be with her and Jesus. I cried, begging to be released of this misery.
The other vivid memory I have is my husband standing next to my bed with tears flowing telling me I have no idea how sick I was. It was much worse than I thought, and I thought it was pretty bad. He spent hours praying, wondering if I would ever go home with him. He survived that time (it was very lonely for him as I was asleep a lot of the time and when I wasn’t sleeping, I was in a state of trauma) by texting our friends and family with updates and reading everyone’s encouraging words.
who knew recovery would be so hard
I would leave the hospital not knowing the next bout of trauma I would have in recovery. Those of you who have experienced severe trauma know what I’m talking about. The next several months would be just as difficult. I had no energy so I could barely walk to the bathroom. I had no desire to eat. I had sweats so bad at night we had to change the sheets multiple times they were so soaked. I had nightmares. I had PTSD, thinking I would never get well, reliving all the trauma I just went through. I had brain fog and felt as if I would never have my mind back. And what no one tells you, I lost 2/3 of my hair about 4 months later. This is common for someone who goes through trauma.
For the next couple of years, I couldn’t watch a hospital scene on TV without bawling my eyes out. I still had PTSD, but one thing for sure, I was thankful God spared my life.
There is absolutely no medical explanation for why I am still alive. According to the CDC, who monitors infectious disease, survival at my level of infection is unheard of. Apparently, my case will be reviewed and used for training. A CDC doctor, who studied malaria in Africa for 8 years, was flown to oversee my treatment plan. What I know without a shadow of a doubt, God is the Mighty Healer. This was a miracle.
lessons learned
Here are some lessons I learned during this time:
- You know your body better than anyone. Never underestimate the power of instinct. If a doctor sends you home with Tylenol, and you know that is not the correct treatment, demand something more or go somewhere else. I should have demanded anti-parasite drugs the first visit to the ER. If I had been given this life saving drug, I would have been treated and recovered within a few days, like most people. There was absolutely no reason not to give me this drug. It was such a simple mistake on the part of the doctor, and now I know I am my best advocate (along with Jim). Doctors are the experts, but they make mistakes … deadly ones. DEMAND CORRECT TREATMENT – YOUR LIFE COULD DEPEND ON IT.
- Research the heck out of your symptoms. I should have done more research on malaria, how it is supposed to be treated, and what the affects are if you’re not. If I knew this was such a deadly disease, I would have been more demanding. The hospital did not follow any of the protocols set up for malaria – they could have easily looked this up. The doctor was reckless. Do your own research. The internet is a marvelous tool.
- Your community is so important during times like this. We needed the support of others, which makes me more sensitive to support others during their times of trial. Reaching out to people who are experiencing trauma is a gift to them … but don’t expect any response in return – they are in survival mode. A dear friend flew in to stay with me for a couple of days in the hospital because Jim needed respite. He never left the hospital but was so thankful for some backup. My mom flew up to be my personal chef when I was in recovery. I needed to learn to like food again, and she helped with that.
- Hold the doctor/hospital accountable. I really did not want this to happen to anyone else, so we held them accountable. They said they changed their protocols, which I was very thankful for. No one should ever have to go through what I went through. It was completely avoidable had they followed the CDC guidelines for malaria. There was a settlement. At the very least, holding people accountable for mistakes that could have been avoided helps the next person. Pay it forward.
Three years prior to this, I experienced vertigo. I found myself hugging the porcelain pony for 24 hours with no end in sight. When I went to the ER (same one) I was given Ativan and told to stay in bed until I felt better. After a week of not getting better, and having a bad reaction to Ativan, we talked to several people and did some research and found that vestibular physical therapy could solve this problem. We found the one guy in our community who does this, and he was a gift. After several weeks of therapy, I was able to function again. Trust your instincts and keep fighting for your health. No one will do that more than you (well, maybe your spouse if you have a good one 😊).
the biggest lesson learned
I know, without a shadow of a doubt, God has our final breath planned out. Our days are numbered, and He alone knows the days. He left me on this earth for some reason, which definitely makes me think a lot more about making sure I don’t waste a single minute. I do not fear death. I am a child of the King and I look forward to my eternal dwelling place. I do not live in fear … God has me in the palm of His hand! If you are living your life in fear of this virus, or anything else, and you are a believer, you have nothing to fear!!! God knows how many hairs are on your head, He knows your every thought … TRUST HIM! If you do not know Jesus and you do not have the peace that comes with being His child, I would love to introduce you to Him.