“Lord my God, I cried to You for help, and you healed me. Lord, You brought me up from Sheol; You spared me from among those going down to the Pit. Sing to Yahweh, you His faithful ones, and praise His holy name.” ~Psalm 30:2-4
The day after I hiked down Mt. Mulanje, I could not walk. If I put any pressure on my feet, the pain was excruciating. Some of my team mates had to fireman carry me to the van so I could go to the clinic in Lilongwe. Even though I was in a lot of pain, I figured my feet were just overly sore from hiking. I hoped I would be in and out of the clinic in a couple of hours after they cleaned my blisters. I was wrong. The nurse practitioner who saw me said the bruise on my ankle was actually cellulitis. She asked me if I would be upset if I had to fly to America. At this point, I realized my condition was more serious than I had at first realized, which proved to be the case as the days progressed. My toe was also severely infected, and they cleaned it there.
Eventually it was decided that I would be medically evacuated to Johannesburg, South Africa. I was in a minor state of shock. Part of me could not truly comprehend what was happening. I stayed the night in the children’s ward and was given an IV of antibiotics that leaked. Olivia Dabbs was fantastic that day. She held my hand for me when my blood was drawn, when they cleaned my toe, and when I got the IV. That night, Casey, one of my squad leaders, arrived and would be my travel companion and friend through the rest of my trials in Africa.
My air ambulance!
The next morning, I was driven to the airport in an ambulance. The inside was all metal, and the sweet nurse let me lean on her the whole way and helped absorb the bumps that came from Malawi’s dirt roads. A stretcher was waiting for me on the tarmac of the airport. I was moved into a jet that had flown there just for me. I felt like a celebrity. It was rather fun, actually. The nurse and paramedic on the jet were really kind, and the boxed lunch was my first taste of “real” western styled food in a long time. Once we landed, an ambulance was waiting and drove me to the hospital. I was officially diagnosed with cellulitis in my right foot, and my right toe was full of Necrotic tissue and was infected with Sepsis.
Warning: Semi-graphic photo below
My foot after surgery. I didn’t have nail polish remover, and it drove me crazy the whole time!
I was in the hospital for ten days. Casey was awesome the whole time. She worked with the insurance, encouraged me, and held my hand when the nurse pierced me three times before she found a vein for my IV. I was on IV antibiotics for 8 of those days and had two surgeries on my toe to clean it up. There were good days with almost no pain, and there were bad days when I had to wait an hour for my pain meds when my toe hurt so bad I thought I would either pass out or throw up.
Casey and me on one of my outings. One of the rare times when I wasn’t connected to an IV.
God was so good to me during this time. My nurses were always kind and helpful. I even had the chance to give one some Bible verses when she noticed me reading it that morning. Every time I went into surgery, I saw angels around my bed right before I would fall asleep from the anesthesia. He comforted me and gave me a peace I knew wasn’t normal during my whole stay. Whenever I closed my eyes to talk to Him, He would show me that He has holding me. The hospital also had decent wifi, and I was able to talk to my family every night.
I was given crutches, and as soon as I received the green light, I started practicing with them. The gravity hurt my foot a lot. I continued to push myself further and further. Eventually, I tried to start taking steps. It was painful, but by the end of my stay, I could walk to the bathroom and back.
My first time standing without using my crutches!!
It wasn’t until I received my paperwork at the end of my stay that I realized just how sick I was. I was at risk for blood poisoning, and 1 in 3 hospitalized people with sepsis die. If I had waited longer before going to the clinic, I most likely would have lost my toe, my foot, my life, or all three. Basically, I almost died because I wore the wrong shoes to climb a mountain.
It was determined that it would be best for me to finish my recovery in the States. It was with a heavy heart that I said good-bye to Casey. I didn’t know if I would make it back to the Race or not. Then I started my long journey home…
May the King of kings bless you!
~Ashlyn
P.S. Please do not think that my parents were crazy for not flying out to me. I didn’t realized just how serious everything was until after the danger was over. If my parents had known, they would have taken the next flight to Johannesburg to get to me.
