Todd F.

Our best guess is that I picked up the Group A Strep virus at the Remembrance Day ceremonies in 2023. My throat began to itch later that day. Doctors think I introduced it into my bloodstream by coughing into my elbow, where there were a couple of open scratches becoming invasive Group A Strep (iGAS). That night I felt ill with vomiting and diarrhea. The next day was worse. I thought I had food poisoning. My wife suggested sepsis, but I dismissed it.

I didn't want to go to ER so I told my wife that I would go to the UCC in the morning. I think waiting may have saved my life. If I had gone to the ER on Sunday, I probably would have been sent home with the flu. By Monday morning I was crashing hard. My wife drove me to the UCC as I wasn't able to drive myself anymore. I became disoriented on the car ride down. My wife helped me inside, where I collapsed. She jumped the queue in triage and got the attention of the nurse. They got as far as taking my blood pressure and then stole an ambulance that was there for another patient, and I was transported to the ER at Juravinski.

I remember a flash here and there from that night as they put IV lines in me and prepped me for surgery. I don't remember anything else except nightmares for the next two weeks. I was induced into a coma and intubated. They told my wife to call everyone and tell them to come down and say goodbye. In their eyes I was on my way out. Even so, they never gave up. Nobody could believe I was still alive the next morning. The prognosis was the same but somehow, I'd made it through the night. We found out who my friends are. The ICU Lounge/waiting area was at capacity. All my family was already there except for my sister who had just gotten back to Australia from a visit and was now halfway on her way back to Canada. Not an easy considering she had just been diagnosed with covid.

One of my friends was arriving back in Ohio from a trip to Canada when he got the call. He turned around and came straight back. This friend is a highly trained Special Forces combat, and my oldest daughter is an ICU nurse at another hospital. Everybody with any medical training "KNEW" I wasn't going to make it, but these two had the job of explaining this in layman's terms to everyone else that was there. For the next 3 days everyone was basically waiting for me to die. They never gave up, but they had no idea how I was still alive. Family and friends were taking shifts in the lounge so that someone would be there when the time came. It never came. The next 10 days was a roller coaster of positive and negative turns. Summary: They were told that I was still dying. If I somehow made it out of the ICU, I would likely end up back in there. If I did make it out, I would still likely lose my right arm and I'd be on dialysis for the rest of my life. There were two attempts to bring me out of my coma. The first one was aborted. The second time came 14 days from when I entered the ICU and was successful. My wife was told that I probably wouldn't be able to talk for a few days. Unfortunately for her that wasn't true. Apparently, I came out speaking with a heavy Scottish accent and even speaking a bit of Gaelic. I've never been to Scotland and have only heard Gaelic spoken a handful of times.

Comas aren't peaceful and silent. Some of my most traumatic memories come from when I was in a coma. I never had a near-death experience. My family and friends that lived through that time. I can't take away that pain.

Nov 28. My memories begin here. I was moved to acute care and was basically paralyzed. My body swollen and more cartoonish than real. Apparently, there were a few antibiotics that I was allergic to. Since they had given THEM ALL to me, no one knew which ones I had reacted to. The next week was difficult.

The 3 weeks that I spent in acute care were my closest imaginings to hell. The patient/nurse ratio was 8:1. Nurses told us that they had no time to bring us bedpans. Someone would clean us up in the morning. My oldest daughter saw the conditions and booked off work to care for me, as did my wife. My middle child is a pharmacy tech and tracked my meds. My 8yo tried to keep me warm during dialysis. The blood that they put back into you is a couple degrees colder than the blood they take out. You will never feel colder than you do during dialysis.

Christmas. I fixated on this. There was no way I was going to be in the hospital for Christmas. I was obsessed and lacked empathy for the people caring. I hadn't experienced what they had just gone through. I just knew that I wanted to get home. As bad as things were for them when I was in the ICU, I made it worse. Everyone did their best to manage my expectations. I was told that there is no possible way that I was going to be out of the hospital by Christmas. I was going to be on dialysis for the rest of my life. I'm not out of the woods and could end up back in ICU. My arm was still infected, I still had a main line in my chest, and my dialysis lines were still attached to my neck. These "barriers to discharge". After this I'd be forced into residential rehab for months.

My ability to fix things has always given me pride. Now I had to fix myself. The physios were there on day 1. I made it my mission to do double or triple the work they gave me. I found my own exercises. I treated it like I was training for the Olympics. When moving from bedridden to ambulatory there are many hoops steps. You can't do anything without supervision until you're signed off. Sitting up in bed, dangling your legs off the bed, moving from bed to a walker, chair, Etc. This has as much to do with liability as recovery. It's more important to the hospital system that you don't injure yourself than it is that you heal from the injuries that you have. That means that nobody is willing to stick their neck out for you and actually help you progress at your max. I put my family in a horrible position. I asked them to help me do things that were not allowed. I was training on stairs before I was allowed to use my walker unsupervised.

Time was running out. There was only one path home by Christmas, and I'd been told it was impossible. I needed to surpass every mile marker set for me and then some. I had to be signed off by all my specialists, of which there were many, I needed to get in to the high intensity, in house rehab available at the hospital instead of being placed into residential rehab. I had to get the dialysis lines out of my neck and into a permanent place. The doctors scheduled and canceled 4 different surgeries to move them. I had no idea why. They had been delaying my dialysis. Pushing it off day after day for almost a week. This entire time the specialist was telling me that I was going to be on dialysis for the rest of my life. One day the doctor came in and told me, quite bluntly, that I was no longer on dialysis. I was stunned. They had no idea how my kidneys had recovered. Not even a theory. Wonderful. Get these lines out of my neck!!!

They took the lines out and I was approved for the high intensity rehab. I had to get in then. I had to spend at least a week in rehab for them to release me. At 17:00 I was still waiting for a bed. The moment I got the news we packed and moved.

I made it home two days before Christmas.

I am grateful for bedpans, being able to feed myself, and being able to go to the bathroom without 2 PSWs. That first shower will stay with me forever.

I'm grateful for my family, friends and caregivers. I'm sorry.

I have memory issues, brain fog, aches and pains, mild dizziness, and numbness in my hands and feet. Physio is restoring my strength. I can do 17,000 steps on a good day. On a bad day I can't get out of bed.

I AM ALIVE