My Mom's Valiant Fight Against MRSA, The Super Bug
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
My mother died five years ago today. She contracted MRSA after successful surgery on her noble heart. The triple-bypass surgeons performed restored her blood flow and her rosy cheeks.
But she never got out of the hospital, never got to enjoy her new lease on life. The irony is that her heart was strong at the end. What we feared might take her from us did not.
MRSA is what claimed her.
Occasionally life dispenses some acutely memorable coincidences. Today is one of those days.
My friend Bev Clement and her husband Rob just released an eBook that educates the public about MRSA, Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. Some people call MRSA the "Super Bug" because it resists treatment, often with severe consequences to those who have the misfortune of contracting it.
What I can tell you, from personal experience, is that MRSA is just plain nasty.
I had no idea Bev and Rob were working on this project -- one that hits very close to home. That I found out about it on the fifth anniversary of my mother's death is both coincidental and fitting.
The insidious MRSA story needs to be told. I am profoundly grateful to Bev Clement and Rob for producing their MRSA eBook. They are following it up with a Slide Show.
Today, of course, is a day of great reflection for my family and me. We all miss "Kate," my Mom. My sister likely will call later today; it has become an anniversary ritual. My brothers and I will exchange emails.
All of us will pause to reflect on the events of Mom's life, including the final event. She was so strong in the face of insurmountable odds. I so admired her strength and courage.
After Mom emerged from the operating room after her heart surgery, it took several minutes for me to adjust to seeing her hooked up to so many machines, including a ventilator.
Once I adjusted, though, I was able to see that her rosy cheeks had returned. She was 77 -- and her girlish complexion suddenly was back.
The surgeon told us the operation had gone well. Naturally we breathed a sigh of relief.
Mom was up walking several hours after her surgery. This was miraculous. Down where the truth really lives, I had my doubts she'd even survive the surgery. She'd beaten cancer 10 years prior, surviving surgery and radiation.
Her breathing wasn't good in the last years of her life, because of cigarettes. This was true even though she hadn't smoked for years. Regardless of her breathing troubles, she was still vital. She walked the Bike Trail daily. She loved to be immersed in nature; she loved birds and squirrels.
She paid attention to what she called their "antics."
The doctors told us Mom would remain in the hospital five to seven days. She'd then be discharged to resume her life. All of us planned the homecoming.
That, of course, was before I heard these words:
"Your mother has an infection."
It was MRSA. My recollection is that they tried to treat it with ciprofloxacin. Cipro, as it is known, is a powerful antibiotic used to treat anthrax. It was used in the days after the 911 attack on the United States, when somebody started sending letters laced with anthrax through the U.S. Mail.
The infection started in the chest incision from Mom's heart surgery. Before long it had entered her bones.
This strong woman who'd survived cancer, radiation treatment and heart surgery now had a new invader to battle. The infection necessitated emergency surgery. Surgeons removed her breast bone and part of her rib cage.
They could not close the wound from the second surgery immediately because they needed to monitor the infection. This meant yet another surgery, this one cosmetic in nature, to bind one side of her chest to the other. In essence, she had no sternum left.
That's what MRSA can do.
Mom survived two more surgeries after the cosmetic surgery was performed. These were on her lungs.
But MRSA had ravaged her immune system. Eventually a tracheotomy was performed, and Mom went back on a ventilator. She battled back from that, too.
Never had I seen such strength on display. She had a tremendous will to live. I am very proud of my Mom, the strongest person I've ever known.
MRSA: What a terrible acronym. And to think I was worried that her heart would kill her.
The irony, of course, was that her heart was strong again, the color had returned to her face. MRSA, in effect, kept her hospitalized for the balance of her life: 11o days. She never saw her home again.
I love you, Mom, and I'm thinking of you today. I'm thinking about your strength, your courage under fire, your will to live. And I'm thinking about how much you loved your children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren -- and how much all of us loved you.
Mostly I'm thinking about your sense of humor, how you regaled us with your stories.
I told you almost everything I wanted to tell you before God called you home. One thing I didn't tell you is how much your practice of reading everything you could lay your hands on influenced my life.
But you already knew that, of course.
You even knew about MRSA -- and yet you didn't betray your fears when the doctors uttered that terrible acronym. You just battled on.
It's what you always did, and it's what I admire about you most.
All of us still feel your love and are inspired by your strength. We are so very, very proud.
This post is in your loving memory: KH, 1925-2002, a Noble Woman
Your Son,
Patrick
Note to readers: Bev and Rob's MRSA eBook is available here.
Labels: Bev Clement, Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, MRSA
posted by Patrick Pretty @ 1:56 PM,
2 Comments:
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At November 2, 2007 11:02 AM,
(Ms.) Marty Nicholas said...
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Patrick,
Dreadfully sorry to hear of your loss.
My sincerest condolences.
Warm regards,
Marty Nicholas -
At November 2, 2007 12:01 PM,
Patrick Pretty said...
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Hi Marty,
Thanks for your thoughtful words.
My family and I are doing OK. Five years have passed, though sometimes it seems like only yesterday.
My mother lived a good life. She had a generous soul and spirit -- and she'd want us to remember her with a smile.
She still makes me smile every day, despite what she went through.
Warm regards,
Patrick
