‘After learning about the chaos sepsis can cause – lost limbs, organs shutting down, a high possibility of death – it is truly a shocking and frightening illness.’ 

East Anglia and Ireland-based Michael R, 65, drives trucks and coaches for a living. Of his overall state of health he goes on to say, ‘I have been healthy all my life – never a hospital patient – and always interested in keeping fit.’ 

This is Michael’s account of what happened to him, out of the blue, in the early summer of 2023. He has called his story ‘Survivor’. 

I am now a man of 64 years of age.  

Generally speaking I am well and have been very lucky health-wise throughout my life. Prior to June 2023, I had never been a hospital inpatient and had enjoyed being physically active for years, trying out a variety of physical pursuits – from kick boxing to weight training, swimming to running. All of which I enjoyed for the most part. I tried my best to live a healthy lifestyle, although I didn’t always succeed. I tried to eat well and drink alcohol in moderation. 

In June 2023 I was at home, enjoying some days off from work, when I noticed a burning sensation when I urinated. I thought nothing of it, thinking it was most probably due to an imbalance in my food intake, something I was sure I would be able to sort out without too much issue and that it would soon pass. The burning when I urinated continued for a day or so and made a trip to the bathroom not something I looked forward to. 

The next morning I rang my local medical practice for a phone appointment, as I was not feeling well enough to go to the surgery. It felt like I had one of the worst hangovers I had ever experienced. When I had not had any contact from the surgery by the end of the day, I phoned them again, and was put through to a GP whom I had never met. I explained my symptoms and was put on a six day course of antibiotics for a diagnosed UTI. 

I knew women could get a UTI, but was unaware that men could too. During the week that followed I started to feel progressively much worse. I had faith in the antibiotics though, and in the doctor. I was becoming weaker and more unwell though and my mind was too unclear and clouded to see that the medication was not working. 

As a child it was impressed upon my siblings and me that doctors and medical staff were very busy, important people and we were never to bother them with our silly little bumps, scratches and colds. So the very idea of calling an emergency ambulance was not even on my horizon – it was something that was reserved for others who were really sick, and it would be unfair on others – the really sick people – were I to call an ambulance. I just did not want to bother the emergency services nor to be an imposition. 

The struggle to stay on my feet to walk to the bathroom was enormous though. The effort it took to go downstairs to retrieve some much-needed bottles of water, and back upstairs again, was like a journey to hell and back. Grasping onto the walls for support, and encouraging myself verbally that I could make it back to my bedroom. Moving a bit, then resting. 

I had little sleep for the remainder of that week, and no appetite whatsoever. I later learned in hospital that I had lost two stone in weight over the course of those seven days. Towards the end of the week, I was having issues urinating at all. What did exit from the urinary channel was more akin to mucky clumps of red, congealed, God-knows-what. A close relative said I needed to go to a hospital, and that they would call an ambulance, which I refused. I don’t know why I refused, as I learned when I did land up in the hospital, that they are some of the nicest people – doctors and nurses – that I have ever met. I think I initially refused the ambulance being called and hospitalisation because I was somehow unsure whether I would ever make it out of hospital again. 

A long-term ex-girlfriend, now friend, was contacted. After being filled in on the details by my close relatives she phoned my number and absolutely insisted that I had to have the ambulance called, and go to the hospital. In my mind I was fairly sure my relatives had really lied and exaggerated my condition to her. But I could tell by the tone of her voice, and her very serious attitude, that she was not messing about. Given that she had been a nurse all her life, I considered her suggestion (or should I say order) and relented. An ambulance was called, and one ambulance and one rapid response ambulance vehicle duly arrived at the house and out tumbled five paramedics, including two advanced medical paramedics. 

By this stage my stomach was swollen and I was feeling very unwell and extremely weak. I just very much wanted to get fixed at this stage. If that meant hospitalisation then so be it. They brought me from the upstairs landing out to the ambulance by wheelchair. In the back of the ambulance I was given Ketamine, amongst other drugs. After a short journey that seemed to take an absolute eternity, we eventually reached the Accident and Emergency Dept of the local hospital – University Hospital Galway (UHG). 

Just like in the movies, I was lying on the wheeled stretcher watching the ceiling lights overhead as I was wheeled into a cubicle. There many blood tests were taken and various doctors had very many questions, when all I wanted to do was sleep. I was admitted to the urology ward that evening, where I then stayed for two months. As my kidneys were failing fast, admittance to the ICU and dialysis was urgently considered, but the many doctors, from whom I was getting a great deal of attention, slowly and surely managed to turn the situation around, halted the rapid decline in my kidney function just before they packed up altogether, and began to put things right. A trip to the ICU and dialysis were narrowly avoided. 

The issues that had begun with a UTI had been complicated by an enlarged prostate, which I was completely unaware of. I had a stretched bladder, which would not function, which led to urinary retention and back pressure on the kidneys, hydronephrosis and post-obstructive diuresis. Somewhere along the line I contracted urosepsis – whether that had happened during the initial stages or in the hospital, I do not know. I was vaguely aware of sepsis, with the symptoms plastered on the sides of the local ambulances, but never really paid much attention to reading those symptoms. Being very unwell and hospitalised was just never on my radar – I considered myself very healthy and lucky in that regard. I wasn’t even aware that an inability to urinate could be a sign of sepsis, or of any health issue. At the time my mind wasn’t clear, nor was I capable of making the correct logical decisions. Being a very private individual, I did not share my symptoms with anyone close as I suspected they would just call an ambulance immediately. I wanted this issue fixed on the quiet, and just to get on with my life. I relied on the antibiotics to sort out the problem. 

So my issues were many and complicated. At one stage I was offered the services of a priest (never a good sign) which I refused. Relatives came from far and wide to visit the hospital and hold my hand, as if holding onto to my life itself, willing me not to leave. Nephrostomies were inserted in my back (A nephrostomy is a small tube inserted through the skin into the kidney to allow urine to drain from the kidney into a collecting bag outside the body), into both kidneys, to deal with urination. Since my initial admission, I have now been back as a hospital inpatient four times this year due to infections, all mainly to do with the kidneys. 

Sometime after I left the hospital I managed to access my medical records and saw how very unwell I had been, and how close to death I had come. That in itself was quite shocking. 

The main issue I had after discharge was a feeling of ‘déjà vu’/Groundhog Day – delirium type symptoms. I later learned this was the effect of the toxins leaving my body. I could see, and actually eat, imaginary meals, and also see people who were not there. It all seemed so very real at the time, but it wasn’t funny – I had little control over my mind. These symptoms took some while to go but did eventually disappear, thankfully. 

I still get flashbacks to this day, reliving my hospital stay and those times, over and over again, near enough on a daily basis. But I am working through this with the help of a mental health professional.  

Reading others stories here, I see how very lucky I am to have got away so lightly, having survived urosepsis and my other issues. I now have a supra-pubic catheter (SPC), which is much easier to manage, and I feel more normal as a result. 

Aside from that I am lucky enough to have near-enough fully recovered and am back to swimming, running, and tennis. I am now very aware of the possibility of sepsis though – both in myself and others who may become unwell.  

Hopefully my story may help others to understand how very easily sepsis can take over your body and mind and that they should not delay getting it sorted out. Any delay could lead to your death or the loss of limbs.  

I also want to make it clear that when sepsis invades your body, you will not be thinking straight. Don’t worry about contacting the emergency services – saving lives is what they are there for. Let them decide if they need to send out an emergency ambulance. 

Charity comment 

Michael was a prime example of somebody fit and healthy who as a result probably thought that he was slightly immune to an illness like sepsis. His very touching account highlights so clearly that that is not the case and that sepsis can affect anyone at any time. 

Michael’s desire to impress on people the need to act quickly to seek urgent medical attention, in order to improve outcomes, comes across so strongly. In essence he reiterates one of the charity’s key messages: that individuals should trust their instincts, not worry about ‘making a fuss’ (because the NHS is overstretched) and should always re-present in an emergency setting if necessary. Even if they have already been seen and sent home once or more already. 

Sepsis Research FEAT can’t thank Michael enough for sharing his story with this charity so candidly and vividly. We are delighted and relieved that he made the fantastic recovery that he did and wish him all the very best for any ongoing treatment.  

Amani is another survivor of sepsis with long experience of catheterisation. You can read her story of sepsis here.