Sean Han

My name is Sean Han and I'm sixteen years old. On September 25th, I had just gotten done working at the Renaissance Festival with my friend Justin. He invited me to his cousins house for a little get together his family was having. Justin, his cousin, his cousin's friend and I, decided to ride our bikes down a road to get to the Wawa.( We were very bored). It was dark but I was wearing a neon green shirt and was very visible. I was riding my bike on the shoulder. Around 8:15 p.m, I heard a truck behind me, but I was on the shoulder, so I thought I was fine. The next thing I knew, I woke up with my head feeling heavy,blood dripping down my face,my toes and hands ripped apart,unable to move, and my kidneys bursting with pain. Justin's dad held my head and told me everything was going to be okay. I was rushed to the hospital and I was hospitalized for 3 days. Before my release, my parents noticed that my right leg was swollen beyond measure. They complained to the doctors but the doctors took it lightly. I started to get blisters on it, and as I went to school, I felt a burning sensation in my leg every time i laid down. It was excruciatingly painful, and felt as though my leg was being scraped by a fork after being lit on fire. I went to the hospital and they placed a drain in my leg that i had to empty out every now and then. I was released four days later. I continued my school work,and then i noticed that the blisters were hardening and turning into black, purple, dark red patches of skin. My friend Justin slept over one day, and I woke up in the worst pain I had ever experienced. My mom took me to the emergency room and I was told the skin on my leg had died, however, the doctors did not diagnose me with necrotizing fascitiis. The doctors removed the necrotic tissue from my leg and placed a V.A.C sponge to drain out more of the toxic fluids. I was hospitalized for 31 more days. During my stay, my leg started to get worse, I was going into surgery for debridements every 2-3 days and the hole in my leg seemed to widen every single time I came out of the operating room. after 31 days, I was discharged and scheduled to come back 5 days later for another debridement. However, my V.A.C sponge lost its seal and I had to go back the very next day. At this point, my parents, my brother, and I were complaining about the rotting smell coming from my leg, the purple skin around it, and the tender spots that I couldn't touch with suffering. The doctors still took it lightly and discharged me two days later. Again, I had to go back the very next day. However, my parents had had enough and took me to a different hospital, Johns Hopkins. (Before I was at University of Maryland Medical Center. I was admitted into Johns Hopkins on November 20th. The doctors had to remove much more tissue from my leg and the hole had doubled in size. I felt helpless, my leg wasn't getting better, I was missing so much school, unable to do any of my sports. But the doctors at Johns Hopkins told me not to worry. They removed all of the infected flesh and took me in for sponge changes in the showers and cleaned my wound each time. My leg was preparing for a skin graft. The doctors informed my mother that they don't know why the other hospital took my problem so lightly, because the tender spots on my leg were actually pus pockets. Finally, they decided to graft my leg with donor skin (not my own), just to prepare my wound even further. After that, they took my own skin from my left leg and grafted it over my right. They were very worried that it would not take because my wound was from my thigh, all the way up to the skin crease fold of my stomach, where it would be very hard for a skin graft to take. Fortunately, the skin graft took and I was discharged on December 13th. The pain was agonizing. the donor site had hurt so bad but I felt it would be worth it after the three months of agony. I just recently found out that my infection was necrotizing fascitiis, because the first hospital I went to diagnosed me with MRSA. But, I went for a check up on February 3rd, and the doctor told my mother, "you know this could have killed him. Necrotizing fascitiis" (I asked him to write it down for me) I suspect he didn't want to tell me during my time in the hospital because I was already depressed and seeing a psychologist everyday. Now, my skin graft is healing and I'm being fitted for compression shorts to help the scarring.