That Friday, I wasn’t able to stay on my feet anymore, I couldn't talk, and I had horrible stomach aches, and terrible green diarrhea so the nurse came to take my blood sample at home. An hour later, when she got the blood results, she sent an ambulance to me, saying that I was in danger of death. CRP level 430, pressure 70/40, malaise, dehydration – I had developed sepsis, which began to turn into septic shock. My kidneys were starting to fail. After a few hours on admission, when I underwent various examinations (X-ray and CT of the abdomen, blood samples, etc.), they took me to the intensive care unit. They knew it was a septic shock. They immediately inserted a probe that drained 1.5 liters of green infectious fluid from my stomach, which had formed there for a week. After a few days, the antibiotics stopped working and the inflammatory values jumped up again. It showed another source of infection in my body. My heart was starting to fail, and I had water in my lungs.
It was the morning of March 3 when they told me that I needed emergency surgery to look into my stomach. It's the day I'm going to celebrate my second birthday. I had a 10% chance of surviving. They inserted central venous access into my throat, from where they took my blood daily and infused me because my veins were terribly weak and were already starting to rupture. The abdomen and intestines were full of infectious fluid, which caused inflammation of the peritoneum, a dysfunctional intestine on which adhesions formed. The infection was so great that it hit my lungs.
I was relieved after this operation, even though I was weak and wasn’t able to stay on my feet. I was finally able to drink after a week. I spent another week in the ICU's surgical department, where they slowly began to teach me to stand on my own two feet and take at least a few steps with the help of a walker. These were the worst moments – I had been in shape all the time, as a coach I put into my body as much as I could, how many times I disobeyed my body, and when it couldn't, I loaded him twice as much. Hard training, extreme mountain hikes, untreated injuries, because I still have to train, etc. and suddenly I can't stay on my own feet?!
Evidently, my body brought me back to the years of torturing and driving him to extremes without being grateful to him for all that. I was still dissatisfied, well, here I have it, I can and I have to start all over again. I left the hospital like a skeleton, my dad had to take me up the stairs – my legs didn't carry me at all.
By the time this is published, it will be 2 months since I am home from the hospital. It's still very difficult, and I have post-sepsis syndrome. For me, it's a change in taste, problems with short-term memory, my hair falling out a handful, I have nightmares at night, panic about the possibility of another infection, problems with appetite, mood swings, mental problems, and fatigue.