Giltner Patte

My name is Patte Giltner. I came across your website a few days ago. I read EVERY survivor story and was moved by the connection I felt to these people. I really had no intention of emailing you my story. But, the Lord was persistent in laying it on my heart. I even found the cd's with my pictures on them after not even knowing where they were for the past 8 months or so. So, here's my story, in obedience to the Lord. On March 14, 2007, at 10:30 a.m., I went to an appointment with my doctor for trigger point injections to treat Fibromyalgia. I was given three injections in my left scapular region to include my trapezius muscle. My doctor also ordered blood work at this appointment. (The blood was drawn before the injections, and after receiving the results in the mail two days later, the results were all WNL.) I left the appointment and went home. I had experienced a minor amount of pain, soreness after these injections the month prior, so when I started to feel this, I attributed it to the injections and went on about my business. After cooking dinner for my kids, around 6 p.m., I did not feel like eating and was quite uncomfortable. By 7 p.m. I felt like I needed to go to bed, and did. At approximately 6 a.m. on the next day, March 15, 2007, I woke up in excruciating pain in my left shoulder and arm. My daughter took me to the ER at approx. 7 a.m. The doctor came in, asked me what was wrong, prescribed me Oxycodone for the pain and Phenegran for the nausea and sent me on my way. On the way to get the prescriptions filled, I started vomiting. The pain was continuing to worsen. My daughter took me home, got me situated lying down on our couch, gave me an Oxycodone and a Phenegran and soon I was asleep. When I woke up about an hour later, I was home alone and in extreme pain. I called my daughter, but she didn't answer. (She was at her doctor's appt.) Around 3 p.m., she arrived home. By this time, I was delusional in addition to, and because of, this all consuming, profound pain. I do not have any memory past this point. My daughter will continue the story: I gave her another Oxycodone and waited for the pain to ease, but it didn't. It just continued to get worse, and I noticed a blister in her armpit. At around 7 p.m., I took her back to the ER. (Same ER) Again, she was not examined AT ALL (the doctor sat on a stool at the foot of the bed), no lab work, NOTHING. Said the blister was a reaction to the Oxycodone and prescribed Hydrocodone and sent us away. (We were told later that they had labeled her "drug seeking") I took my mom back home and while she slept, I sat and watched her. I watched to make sure she was breathing and I watched her wince and cry out in pain. At 3:46 a.m. on March 16th, my mom got up, barely able to walk and proceeded down the hall to my little brother's room, turned on the light and started screaming at him to get up for school!! My brother and I knew that there was something VERY wrong!! We tried to get her to the car, but she was really fighting us. We did finally get her in the car and proceeded back to the ER. She told both of us that she loved us and that she wanted us to know that at that moment because she feared that whatever was causing this pain was going to kill her. We arrived at the ER and the doctor ordered a cat scan STAT! (Different doctor) What they found was indicative of Necrotizing Fasciitis and rushed her to surgery. Shortly afterward, they told us that my mom's organs were failing and that they did not expect her to live. I called everyone back and told them this news. (I had already had several conversations with my step dad who was out of town on Army business, my aunt and Grandma.) I spent 2 ½ months in the Burn Unit ICU. I had a total of 13 debridement surgeries, midline amputations of both feet, amputation of all digits on my left hand, and my right thumb. I was denied SS Disability, but the good Lord gave me a job. I now work 40+ hours every week, take care of my home and live a full life. I'd be lying if I said that I never think about it. I know that the Strep A was introduced to my bloodstream via those injections. And, sometimes that makes me question things and wonder…But, it doesn't matter. For 10 days they called in all of my family and told them repeatedly that I would not survive this. Then they gave me a 2% chance of survival. I'm still here! Missing a few body parts, but here, nevertheless, and living a full life in the saving grace of Christ----MY KING!!