Carolyn's Story.

My name is Carolyn Martinelli. I am 35 years old. I am Bonnie Minsky’s daughter and Steve Minsky’s sister. I want to tell my story about my medical catastrophe. My whole life I never thought I would ever have to be in a hospital. I thought I was invincible. I ate healthy, took vitamin supplements, exercised, and led a pretty stress-free life. I tried to avoid doctors, hospitals, etc. as much as possible. I brought my three sons into the world at home with the aid of a doctor and nurse-midwife. I was on top of the world.

Then came the fateful day in March of 2007 when all that came to a crashing halt. While en route to San Diego with my three sons in tow (flying without my husband), I began to feel quite sick. I had to run to the bathroom several times and thought I was coming down with the flu or food poisoning. Throughout the night I had horrible pains in my abdominal area. They were like nothing I had ever felt before. The pain was worse than childbirth. But, I still thought it was the flu or food poisoning. The next morning, I did not feel better. Later that afternoon, my mother was getting very worried because I wasn’t feeling any better. She said, “It sounds like an appendicitis attack to me.” You really need to go to an urgent care center or emergency room right away.”

While my mother watched the kids, my dad took me to the closest urgent care facility. The doctor did bloodwork, an abdominal X-ray, and a full physical exam. He told us, “There is no way this is appendicitis or pancreatitis. You have a bad case of the stomach flu. Try taking Immodium or Pepto Bismol to help with the symptoms. Hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation in San Diego”. What a relief, I thought to myself. The doctor had completed a thorough exam and ruled out appendicitis!"

For the next fourteen days, I still was not feeling well. My appetite was back, but I was very lethargic and still very irregular. I had lost about ten pounds and was wondering why I could not kick this “stomach flu”. On day fifteen, I developed a fever, the chills, and abdominal pain so severe that I doubled over in pain and couldn’t walk. My husband rushed me to the hospital. They immediately ushered me into a hospital room, bypassing triage and hooked me up to a saline I.V. (I am allergic to the corn in the glucose I.V.) and drew blood. The pain was so excruciating that I was given a large dose of pain medication. The E.R. doctor came in to ask questions and examine me. He recommended a C.T. scan because my white blood count was off the charts, which could indicate acute appendicitis. I told him that the doctor in San Diego ruled out appendicitis with an X-Ray. The nurse and doctor could not control their dismay. “An X-Ray? You need a CT scan to diagnose appendicitis.

I was wheeled away on a gurney to have my CT scan. I was so scared. What was wrong with me? I had never been in a hospital before (besides for an hour or two with a broken arm and stitches). The doctor came in about 20 minutes later and was speechless. He said I had “several large collections of fluid in the abdominal area”, but could not believe it was a ruptured appendix because I presented with symptoms two weeks ago. Most people would have become septic and died already. He ordered another CT scan, which concluded that it was indeed acute appendicitis that had formed several abscesses, which had perforated my colon. They brought in a surgeon who told me that I would be admitted to the hospital and would have to be on strong antibiotics to try and kill the infections. He would then, hopefully, be able to perform laproscopic surgery six weeks later to remove the ruptured appendix.

As my days in the hospital went on, things went from bad to worse. The plethora of mistakes that were made would boggle your mind. My doctor saw me only two times in the first four days in the hospital (even though I hovered at death’s door). He would place my care in the physician assistant’s hands. The only thing my doctor would say when he came in my room was, “I can’t believe you look so good, but your CT scan shows you should be in the ICU or dead.” Every time I would get my bloodwork results or CT scan results, they would be worse. The first two days I could take nothing by mouth. After the third day in the hospital, the doctor recommended that I try eating. Liquid first, then soft foods, and if that was tolerated, regular food. Not only was the hospital fare inedible, it was full of preservatives and artificial ingredients. My family would bring me my meals, vitamins, and liquids. After tolerating liquids and soft foods (or so I thought), they told me I could eat anything I wanted. Guess what they offered me for my first dinner? Barbequed beef tips! For a woman with a perforated colon! Of course, I opted for my own meal of homemade chicken soup, which my mother made sure was made with all organic ingredients.

On my fourth day in the hospital, after having a drainage catheter inserted in my abdominal area to drain the fluid, I started to vomit again with uncontrollable bowel movements. I didn’t understand this. I was just starting to feel better! After six hours, the nurses told me the doctor was recommending I have a tube inserted down my nose and into the stomach. I looked up at the I.V.’s bags and was very troubled when I noticed a Glucose bag (with dextrose) hanging up on the hook and being pumped into my system. I showed my husband and he then asked the nurse, “Why does she have a dextrose I.V. when she is deathly allergic to corn? We told you this the first day and every I.V. has been saline up to this point.” The nurse explained that the physician assistant had recommended a dextrose I.V. When the nurse told him that I was allergic to corn, he insisted that the glucose I.V. was not derived from corn and that I couldn’t be reacting to it.

As my husband’s rage was trying to be controlled by my doctor on the phone at midnight, he kept insisting the I.V. did not contain corn. When the pharmacist finally got a hold of the doctor and explained that dextrose is indeed corn sugar, he still kept insisting that I could not have had that type of reaction to corn sugar.

The pain of having a tube inserted through my nose into my stomach cavity was something I would like to forget. Being that is was 2:00AM, the nurse on staff had never done this procedure before. My husband insisted that I have an experienced nurse perform the procedure. The next day, we fired our surgeon and interviewed a new one who had come highly recommended by family and friends.

The first thing my new doctor did was switch my antibiotic. The one I had been on for five days was not working because the infections were not subsiding. Next, he took me off of all food and liquids by mouth and worked with my mother and the TPN doctor to formulate a TPN bag that would not contain any corn, dyes, or preservatives, but would have all the vitamins and minerals needed to heal. He then recommended another drainage catheter and was able to take out the stomach tube two days later. Unfortunately, my reaction to the dextrose I.V. was so severe that it had affected my small bowel.

Each day that I spent in the hospital brought more errors, even though my family was there questioning everything. I had nurses running down the hall to stop me from taking a medication that they had given me minutes earlier, I.V.’s poked into the wrong places, and false hope that one day I would return to normalcy. I knew that to get well, I had to get out of the hospital. After constant urging, my family and I finally convinced my doctor that I could do the I.V. bags at home and promised I would eat or drink nothing by mouth. After two weeks of a horrific hospital stay, I was finally on my way home! I had lost twenty pounds by then. Even though my husband stayed with me at the hospital every night (in fear they would make a fatal mistake), being away from my sons for that long was excruciating. I started to imagine what it was like for a person who did not know about proper healthcare and optimum nutritional support needed for healing. How do they get well? Who looks after their care?

From the minute I got home, I felt better. With each passing day, I could feel my strength coming back. Even though it was very rough for my whole family with the TPN bags that needed mixing, the antibiotics that needed to be administered, and my inability to keep up with my son’s busy schedules, we made it through and my CAT scans were finally showing improvement. After one month of no food by mouth, I was finally able to begin eating again slowly. After the second month, I was off of the antibiotics. Six weeks later, my CT scan showed no more infection, no sign of an appendix, and a healed small bowel and colon.

My mother made sure that everything I took in by mouth was easy to digest and packed full of nutrients. I did not have to have laproscopic surgery. There was no more appendix to be removed, it had dissolved maybe because my doctor had given me such a long time to heal. The body is an amazing machine. If given the right nourishment and enough time, it can often heal without major surgery. I couldn’t help but think, why did this happen to me? Why didn’t they catch the appendicitis in San Diego? Why did they give me a dextrose I.V. that caused me to have NO food by mouth for a month? Why did I miss my son’s three year old birthday because I was stuck in a hospital bed? These questions haunted me until I realized that if I could help one person to avoid an experience like mine, all of it would be worth what I went through. If I could tell my story so that an individual could realize that a doctor’s diagnosis is not always correct, medications need to be checked and rechecked before they are administered, that food and chemical intolerances need to be taken seriously, and that technicians can and will make mistakes- it was worth it.

Please know that every doctor is different. Healthcare today is a tricky business. Know your body- it can tell you what you need. I could not have gotten through this experience if it weren’t for my family and friends. I am blessed to have a husband whose unwavering support and love in my time of need will never be forgotten. I am blessed to have a mother and brother who know how to heal the human body with nutrition and the proper vitamins/minerals; who spent hours of their time researching my condition and making sure I was getting the proper care. I am blessed to have a father who would not take no for an answer and found the doctor who would finally allow my body to heal. I am blessed to have family and friends whose love and wishes helped me get through the worst experience of my life. I am blessed to have three wonderful sons that I knew I had to get well for so I could be their mother again. Thank you is not enough. I bless these people. I hope my story will empower you to be your own advocate. Know that you are in charge of your body and only YOU can decide what is truly best for you. Being healthy and alive is God’s greatest gift to humanity.