My Life before C Diff
I am like Mikey from the cereal commercial… Give it to Stefanie; she’ll eat anything. (To a point… actually I hate fried foods and general unhealthy crap, but if it’s interesting, exotic, spicy, and new, I’ve got to try it!) As a healthy 35-year-old, I’ve never had stomach issues in my life, other than carsickness and nausea with migraines. I’m as “regular” as my terrier.
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Oddly, all of winter/spring 2015, I’m feeling lethargic, unmotivated to the extreme. Even when I want to go do something, I just didn’t have the energy to go do it. I was starting to wonder if I might be depressed. I was exhausted ALL THE TIME. I was also gaining weight in my stomach, which is odd for me, as I’m typically a butt/hips gainer.

In May, I begin having trouble with constipation (first time ever… whoa!) By the way, if this is ever an issue, squatting fixes it (not just raising your feet, but actually putting all your weight on them and squatting). I was amazed.

On June 28, the diarrhea begins and I’m trying to think what I might have eaten in the prior week that could have given me food poisoning, but nothing really comes to mind except salads (a common e-coli risk food). So I go to bland foods, Gatorade, etc… typical upset tummy mode. I go to work on the 29th and 30th, feeling progressively worse and popping Tums as if they’re M&Ms. Coworkers are starting to comment that I’m looking pretty banged up (thanks).

Right before bed on June 30, I go use the restroom and its blood. Not bloody stool… JUST BLOOD, and a lot of it. Plus I’m in ridiculous pain. My husband is deployed, so I’m home alone and thinking that this is really not good. So I email my boss that I’ll be out tomorrow, catch a cab, and go to the ER. I was lucky enough to have a bed near the restroom, but NYC emergency rooms being what they are, there was no chance I get any sleep. Two bags of IV fluids, a blood test, a rectal exam, and seven hours later, they send me home with instructions for rest, fluids, Motrin, and bland foods. It’s “likely a virus.” I’m doubtful but so glad to be heading home to my bed. I sleep from 7AM to about noon, when I wake up in a pool of blood in my bed. This is NOT normal. I called my G.P., who immediately is furious and says that I never should have been sent home at all. She arranges my return to the E.R., and back I go for fluids, CT scans, stool/blood/urine tests, and (thank the gods!) pain management. At some point in my morphine-induced stupor, I was moved to isolation in the E.R… they’d found the C Diff. Suddenly, I am on heart monitors, oxygen, I.V. fluids, blood pressure medicine (I.V.), and Flagyl (I.V.). I had no concept of time, other than that I was having to go to the restroom far too often, and too often didn’t make it because I had to shout for someone who would have to gown/glove up before unhooking me from all the tubes and wires then help me to the restroom because I couldn’t really stand. At first, this is about every 40-70 minutes, and still all the blood. They tell me my case is severe and that every inch of my gut is inflamed. After 47 hours in the E.R., I was admitted to the hospital and my real treatment could begin.

One great perk to being contagious is the private room, but you really know your perspective is altered when you are delighted to find that you have your very own commode next to your bed… essential! Adult disposable underwear are also key. The next few days are a blurry cycle of morphine–sleep–wake/pain/commode/more pain, wait what seems an eternity for next dose of morphine–sleep–wake/pain/commode… Dispersed in there are exams, x-rays, and the every-four-hour vital checks, occasional blood draws, the disgusting oral vanco (with a ginger ale chaser because my nurses were amazing!), and the constant drip of the I.V. fluids and doses of I.V. flagyl. Four days later, I am suddenly aware enough to REALLY want a shower. I must be feeling better. It took some time and I had to sit on a plastic chair in the shower and have plastic wrap covering my IV ports, but I was finally clean, and had clean sheets and hospital gown. Glorious! I just hadn’t had the energy before then to do more than clean up a bit with baby wipes from my bed. This is the day they discover a secondary e coli infection in my stool culture. Lovely. Discontinue Flagyl, add Cipro to the existing Vanco oral regimen. Still on every-three-hours pain management.

It is determined that the C Diff began to blossom in January 2015 after a multi-round course of antibiotics for oral surgery. The infectious disease doctors confirmed that it very likely was the source of the other issues I was having (exhaustion/constipation/unusual weight gain) prior to becoming obviously symptomatic. It was the secondary, food-born e coli exposure that kicked the C Diff into high gear the week I got sick.

With the good luck of being in a world-class teaching hospital, and under the care of a team of hospitalists, a team from the G.I. department, and a team from the Infectious Disease department, as well as the most amazing nurses, I begin to venture back into semi-solid foods, take an interest in magazines, and begin to reengage with the world. I had visitors (gowned & gloved) and even had the energy to make it through a stack of magazines. (No books; I was throwing everything away that came with me to the hospital that couldn’t be disinfected with bleach.) After 10 days in the hospital, with these amazing professionals throwing everything they had at this, I was discharged. Sent home with oral (pill) Vanco, oral Cipro, and oral Dilaudid (for pain).

My mother came in from out of state and hired cleaners to disinfect my apartment, and was there to hold me up as I walked out of the hospital. I still needed help to go any further than about 10 steps. She pampered me as mothers do, and it was much needed. My father relieved her of her post, and stayed with me for the crucial “it’s time to start walking about” portion of my recovery. He also checked off my household to-do list like a champ! Dads are great at that kind of stuff. After he went home, my mother-in-law flew in to take the third shift, which consisted of pushing me to be a little more active each day, and to help me wean off the pain meds that I was still taking to be able to sleep through the night. As an R.N, she was immensely helpful at all of my lengthy follow-up doctor appointments and with helping me with all the stuff only a nurse can handle. Finally, I’ve been alone this last portion to get my energy back and prepare to return to work, which I will do the day after tomorrow.

I’ve carefully reintroduced my normal foods, and only still have some discomfort from raw vegetables/salads, which they say is just going to take time as my intestinal linings rebuild. All of my tests have come back normal, C Diff free, and healthy. I even ate (medium) curry without problem last night (YUM!).

The credit must go to my G.P. for insisting on having all the tests run and questions answered, to my three teams of hospital doctors for being (as they say) “aggressive” in their treatment plan, to my nurses for being healers in every sense, and to my family for coming through when I needed them, even if it meant sleeping on an air mattress in my tiny apartment. (Also, my friend who advocated for me in the ER, who brought me magazines, adult diapers, Gatorade, and Chapstick, and who took care of my dog while I was in the hospital. And, of course, my dog, who has her own healing powers in the form of snuggles whenever I needed them.)

My lessons learned:
* to always question when something sounds wrong (you’re sending me home when I’m bleeding out of my ___??)
* to seek out and put my trust in the best professionals that I can find
* to allow others to care for me when it is needed, in a hospital stay if necessary, even if inconvenient or disruptive
* that I can count on my friends and family

I’m grateful to have the all-clear to return-to-normal-everything, and sincerely hope that C Diff and I can part ways for good. In the future, I’ll know what to watch for in case it tries to come back, so hopefully not give it 6 months to flourish silently.

I wouldn’t wish this illness on anyone, and sincerely hope that anyone who has had it finds full recovery as soon as possible.