May 1995, I had been suffering from Interstitial Cystitis and reoccurring yeast infections. I went to my urologist to see about the IC. I happened to mention to him that I thought the yeast infections were making the IC worse. He told me that we would take care of the yeast first and then tackle the IC. He put me on a 28 day---100mg a day dose of Diflucan. Diflucan is a by-mouth yeast infection drug. (Come to find out later, I should have been given 1 - 150 mg. pill!) I took Diflucan, 15 pills, over 18 days. Below is the account of what happened next.

This summer was the “summer lost.” On Saturday, June 10, I attended one of my daughter’s softball games. I got a little sunburn. I decided to color my hair that evening. On Monday, June 12, I woke up with my eyes crusted shut and blisters on my sun burnt neck and on my right arm. I went to (my allergist). He took me off Diflucan, a medication I had been taking for a yeast infection. On Tuesday, June 13, I woke up with my mouth covered in blisters. I felt it would go into my throat, so my husband took me to the ER at our local hospital. I was given two shots and sent home. On Wednesday, June 14, I was no better and continuing to get worse. Mom took me to (the allergist) again. He gave me several things and Nizoral. Nizoral is in the same family as Diflucan. By Saturday night I was miserable. The blisters were so hot that some on my back even burst. I called (the allergist.) Took him away from a concert. (He was not happy!) Told to stop taking Nizoral-given more prendisone on Sunday. Monday morning, I was about 50% covered in blisters on my legs, arms, and back. These blisters were sizes from a dime to a dollar and filled with fluid. I actually sloshed when I walked. Went to see (allergist) on Monday, June 19th. Cried. He said I should see an infectious disease doctor. He asked me what he could do for me. I lost it. Please put me in the hospital. I went in around 4 p.m. We called my sister and told her what was happening. She took the first flight out of Greenville/Spartanburg and arrived around 8 p.m. No orders given. Tried IV six times. ER doctor got one in my left arm. Had to have an arm board to keep it still. 11 p.m., still no orders. Nurse calls new doctors answering service. The doctor on call gives orders. By Tuesday, June 20, I was 75-80% covered in blisters. They were on my arms, legs, feet, hands, neck, back, hair, face, mouth, and private areas. Because I was very dehydrated and required antibiotics, morphine and other medications, a wonderful doctor put in a central line. What a neat person. Very caring. I was later told that if I had waited one more day to enter the hospital, I would have been dead. The central line was easier to deal with. I have vague memories of the first week. I remember that my feet swelled so bad that I could not walk. They put a portable toilet next to me so I wouldn't have to go far to go to the bathroom. My day looked something like this: Wake up, after being awakened several times during the night to be checked, get a warm washcloth from my sister or my husband. Use one warm washcloth to open my crusted eyes. Even with my eyes open, my vision was so blurry that I couldn't see well. We tried eye drops, but they only helped a little bit. Get another warm washcloth and use it to open my crusted mouth. Try to eat something. Finally I convinced them that I really couldn't eat. They put another bottle of stuff on my IV pole and told me it was food. At least I didn't have to try to eat anymore! I was to have twice-daily whirlpools. They hurt so badly. After I returned to my room, from the whirlpool, my husband, sister, and or the nurses would slather Aquaphor on my skin and wrap me in gauze bandages. I looked something like a real life mummy. My skin was debrided, blisters removed, once a day by a dermatologist. He told me one night that I had an amazing faith considering what I was going through. I hated what he was doing to me, but I looked forward to seeing him. He was a very kind, gentleman. After the debriding, I would be slathered again and bandaged. I was treated very much like a burn victim. (They talked about moving me to a burns unit in Cincinnati, but the doctors and my sister felt it was too risky.) The biggest fear was that some of the open skin would become infected. They tested my open areas often to make sure I wasn't developing any infections. I did develop a few, but they either upped my antibiotics or put bacetracin on them. I was evidently suffering from sleep deprivation. Finally given something to help me sleep. The whirlpools were still awful! So much pain. The doctors tried to find a pain medication that would make my whirlpools feel better. They tried Ativan. I thought I was being chased by my IV pole. They tried Demerol and I thought I was a cartoon character and I hallucinated that buildings outside of my room were jumping around. They tried Haldol. That one was the worst. I got down to the whirlpool and my jaw started locking shut. I told my sister I was having trouble breathing. She told the PT people to call upstairs and tell them to call my doctor immediately to reverse the effects of the drug. Months later she told me that she thought I was going to die right there! Thank goodness for Morphine. As a last resort they tried morphine. It worked and gave me few side effects. Although I did tell my sister that I saw her running a marathon in her underwear. I also told my husband to watch out for the car; all the while he was sitting on my bed. During this time, visits from my daughters were bad. They had to wear gloves and a mask. I was in a room that allowed me to breathe only my own air. It was an isolation room. My youngest cried and told me that I wasn't her mother. My oldest didn't know what to do. On Monday the 26th I evidently flipped out. I remember seeing my husband in a red and white shirt, on top of me. He held me down for 3 hours, 11 p.m.-2 a.m. Months later, I asked him what I was so flipped out over. He said that I called him the devil and that I was fighting the devil. I slept through the 27th-my oldest’s birthday. By Wednesday morning I was alive again. My doctor gave me a stern talking to. He basically told me to get my act together and start healing. I was terrified to go to the whirlpool. (Terrified doesn't even do the idea justice. I was scared out of my mind at the mere thought of going to the whirlpool again.) The chaplain layperson came in and prayed with me. Then a priest my family knew came in. He and the layperson prayed over me to give me strength. I made it through the whirlpool and things started turning around. From that point on, I continued to get better. My sister, bless her heart, dropped everything and flew up on June 19th to be with me. Through her efforts, I feel she saved my life. My best friend came to see me almost every other day. She took care of the girls several times. She gave my oldest daughter a birthday breakfast and cake. My husband - What a trooper! He did things for me I know no other husband could have done! I am so lucky and so blessed. He was there constantly. He was caring for the girls, caring for the house, and visiting me. During all this, he was interviewing for Principalships. He got his job with Milford, all the while spending the night in the hospital. I came home on July 5th. I was a little scared of what life held in store for me at home. I tired so easy. Just walking to the kitchen was a chore. Eating was still not fun. Thank goodness for Jamocha shakes. I worked hard to get my stamina back, but it was hard. I wasn't able to go to Orff II or be in the Summer Band. I had to rest a lot. By August I was feeling some better. My skin had finished peeling by then. My sister and her family came for a visit. She told me many things I didn't remember. Funny things I had said when I was out to lunch. Her husband took pictures to document my scars.

I remember one night during the first week I was in the hospital. I saw my sister crying. I thought she was upset because she missed her son. She said no, she was crying because she was afraid. She didn't want to say it, but she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to do enough to save me. Years before she had been a mobile nurse with Humana Hospital in Louisville. They had sent her to a burns unit outside of Atlanta for six weeks. She hated every moment of it. The pain. Little did she know that because of that experience she was able to communicate that knowledge to the nurses and my husband at the hospital. This knowledge saved my life! Oh, He works in mysterious ways.

I continued to go to my dermatologist long after I got out of the hospital. He checked me twice weekly and then once weekly basis for quite a while. Close to the last visit he asked me if I fully realized what I had been through. I of course said yes. He then told me that I was more than a little lucky; I should be pushing up daisies. The two conditions I developed can be fatal. Stevens-Johnson’s Syndrome and Toxic Epidermal Necrolysis are very serious reactions to drugs. TEN has a high rate of mortality. Sometimes as high as 90%, according to the research I have done. Patients with TEN also have a 90% chance of severe eye damage as a result of the condition. I have the same prescription as I did before this all happened.

Yes, I still have scars, dry eyes and nails that look funny, but I am here enjoying my life. How lucky and blessed I am.