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Scrambling for Help
Donna mobilized the group in the waiting room to contact different hospitals. But after learning of my vitals, none would accept me. My sister Teresa calls the waiting room scenario my "big fat Italian hospital scene." My sisters are very emotional, and they were all crying. Adding to the confusion, everyone had a different opinion about what to do next. Donna remained calm and steady, making one last call for advice to a doctor we knew, who suggested Stony Brook University Medical Center. The hospital sent an ambulance and rushed me to the ER.
Donna was told she couldn't go with me. What if I died in the ambulance, she worried, and she couldn't be with me at the end, holding my hand? By that time, Donna had been awake for more than 20 hours straight. When she arrived at the ER at 10:30 that night, she was totally exhausted and finally broke down crying.
At Stony Brook, several doctors examined me and reviewed my records. Things were so grim that they urged Donna to call a priest to administer last rites. They told her they weren't certain about what had caused the septic shock, but felt that rapid and aggressive treatment with antibiotics was the only way to face down the unknown attackers. Because of the DIC and the risk of uncontrolled bleeding, they'd been unable to do a spinal tap, which may have aided in making a conclusive diagnosis.
The IV fluids and the fact that my kidneys weren't working caused me to balloon more than 60 pounds overnight. Donna says I was completely unrecognizable. Every feature of my face was swollen—it looked like I was turned inside out.
My fever spiked to 105.7. Donna told me that one by one, family members came to say their farewells. After rubbing me down with alcohol, she and Teresa put chairs together in the waiting room to catch some sleep. Miraculously, I survived the night.
I remained in critical condition for the next seven days. I was placed on dialysis, and the doctors suspected that my kidney function wouldn't return. Donna and my family were worried about brain damage. The doctors were concerned that if I was lucky enough to survive, I'd lose my nose, hands and feet from the prolonged loss of blood flow.
On January 3, my second day at Stony Brook, the hospital asked for Donna's permission to use a special new medication to treat the inflammation from the infection that was raging through my bloodstream. She gave the go-ahead.
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