Story told by her loving daughter, Ruth

My mom, Michelle, was admitted to the ICU on December 22, 2023. Three days later, on Christmas Day, she passed away.

I was away at college at the time and had planned to come home that week for Christmas. On December 21, my mom told me my sister had come down with the flu and that I should rethink my plans to come home. What I didn’t know was that my mom had already been experiencing flu-like symptoms for five days. Despite multiple trips to urgent care, she had tested negative for everything.

The next day, December 22, I received a frantic call from my grandmother.

“Honey, this is grandma. Now, I can’t talk much in the room, but your mom is in the ICU. She’s really sick and they have her covered in ice. She wants you to come up here.”

I immediately left work and rushed to the hospital. When I arrived, she was awake but disoriented. Her skin was mottled, a mix of pale and purple. She was shivering and sweating at the same time. She didn’t look like herself. Her heart rate was over 160, and her blood pressure was dangerously low. It did not look good.

She was happy to see me, but she was scared. She asked me to stroke her hair, so I did. She was having a hard time talking, but she mustered up the strength to say “I love you”. I don’t know why, but somehow, I knew in my bones that it would be the last time she would ever say those words to me.

A few hours later, she perked up. She started talking about the things she needed from the grocery store, the laundry she had to do, and how badly she needed a shower. What we didn’t know was that this was the beginning of the end. Seven or eight hours later, she was placed on a ventilator.

After more than 12 hours on the ventilator with no improvement in her vitals, doctors decided it would be best to transfer her to a larger hospital where she could receive dialysis. She was transported late that night, and the doctors immediately began the dialysis process.

The next day, December 24, there still had not been much change. Her blood was clotting during dialysis, which was concerning, but doctors told us she had a tremendous chance of recovery because of her age and prior health history. We were hopeful.

After being at the hospital with her for two and a half days, I decided I needed to go home to shower and sleep. I said goodbye and planned to come back the next day, Christmas.

I woke up that morning around 11 a.m. and was getting ready to head back to the hospital when I received a call saying she was declining and that I needed to get there as quickly as possible. The hospital was more than an hour away.

On the way there, I received another call. “Her heart stopped, we will perform CPR for 10 minutes”.

In that moment, it felt as though my heart stopped with hers. I couldn’t focus. I felt nauseous.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were running frantically, tears in our eyes. When we reached security, they said, “we already knew you were coming, go ahead”, and in that moment, I knew she was gone.

We entered the room, and the countless machines she had been hooked up to had already been removed. All that remained were my family and my mom, lying lifeless on the bed, her lips purple. She had passed away at 2:47 p.m. on Christmas Day.

I knew I had to go home at some point, but I couldn’t do it that day. I couldn’t bear to look my little siblings in the eye and tell them that Mom was gone. It wasn’t until two days later that I went home and found blood splattered on the walls of her bathroom. She had been coughing up blood. She had been so sick.

Sepsis crept up on us, and on her, and completely destroyed our lives. Now, any chance I get, I share her story and help raise awareness. Going to the doctor when you are sick is not optional. It can be lifesaving.