"Baby my ankle hurts." Complained my husband. "Put some ice on it and go lie down," I muttered from the bedroom. Not knowing that a deadly bacteria had somehow infected my husband's left foot and was rapidly eating away at his flesh as we spoke. A few hours later he woke me up saying that the pain was unbearable and he was going to the hospital. He did have a pretty high temperature earlier but being the hypochondriac that he is, I didn't take him seriously. Sure enough, he drove himself to the hospital and I met him there later.

When I arrived, he was lying on the emergency room bed moaning. I looked at his left leg and shrieked to myself "My God!" I never knew a black man's leg could get that red. His calf, on down his left leg, to his ankle was a bright cherry red complexion. Almost like his lower leg was on fire. It had an illuminating glow as if it was burning inside. I got the nurse and we made sure he was as comfortable as possible and shortly thereafter I decided to go and check in at work.

I left work early and returned to the hospital to see how Earvin was doing. They had moved him to a room and a more comfortable bed. I asked the nurse to check his temperature. 105° they noted and walked away. When he became delirious and making weird comments, I got the nurse. She gave him two Tylenol and left again. After a couple of hours and his temperature was still between 104° and 105°, I asked the nurse if she could exchange the Tylenol for Contact because it took his fever down at home. She said it wouldn't be necessary because they all do the same thing. But clearly, they didn't do the same thing. One took his fever down and one didn't. I just let it go. It was about 10:00 p.m., Friday night. I kissed him goodnight and went home.

Saturday morning

I returned to the hospital and they had moved him to the Intensive Care Unit ("ICU") for observation. I stayed at the hospital with him all day. I watched as doctors examined him over and over again. I watched nurses take large test tubes of blood from his veins. I asked them, "Why do you have to take so much blood?" "For more test," they said. Finally, by Saturday evening I asked the doctor did he have a diagnosis yet? He said "Well, we're not sure, we are still taking test." He asked me a few off the wall questions like "Has he been wading in any water?" (which is highly unlikely considering we live in the heart of the city) and "Does your husband drink alcohol?" I told him, "Yes, he does drink on occasions." He said "That's probably the problem." Knowing, he had no idea what the problem was, I sarcastically asked him to explain to me how drinking alcohol, on occasions, can give a person a fever of 105°, put them in excruciating pain and make their left leg swell up and catch on fire! He actually tried to sell me on this idea that alcohol was the cause of my husband's bizarre condition but I wasn't buying it. He then asked that the x-ray technician return and take another x-ray of Earvin's chest. This was the third set of x-rays of his chest. I abruptly intervened and pointed out how no one has taken an x-ray of Earvin left leg, considering it seems to me to be where the problem is originating. I sat back in my chair and watched them take more x-rays and draw more blood from my husband's veins. One nurse even replied with "Look doctor, I'm not going to be held responsible for taking any more blood from this patient."

I was at one of the most reputable hospitals in Chicago but it was clear to me that they didn't have a clue as to what was infecting my husband's body. His temperature had not changed, the antibiotics were not working and his left foot was beginning to blister. Taking his health into my own hands; I gave him two Contact tablets, I washed his body with a cool wet sponge and tucked him in. He was so grateful. He kissed me and thanked me for being such a trooper. He then fell asleep peacefully.

Saturday night

I left the hospital returning home around 11:30 p.m. Looking at the clock, I decided to call my best friend Nicky, in California. Since they are two hours behind us, I figured that she would still be up. Her husband, Mario answered the phone. "Hi, Mario, may I speak with Nicky?" I asked. " She's sleeping," he replied. I proceeded to ask how he was doing and briefly filled him in on what was happening with Earvin. Out of nowhere, he asked me, "IT'S NOT NECROTIZING FASCIITIS, IS IT?!" I said "I don't know, what's Necrotizing Fasciitis", surely not pronouncing it correctly as I tried to repeat his words. "It's that flesh-eating bacteria that infects your body and makes your limbs swell up, you have a high fever and antibiotics don't work," he said. I was shocked and amazed. It never crossed my mind to ask him for advice even though he is a recent graduate and practicing physician. I told him, whatever this flesh-eating bacteria is, you just described all of Earvin's symptoms to a tee, it could be it. As his voice changed he said, "That is a serious illness but most important IT IS A RACE AGAINST TIME. You have to immediately go inside of the infected area and scrape the bacteria out before it poisons the bloodstream and spreads throughout your body." The treatment seemed a bit unpleasant but I was overwhelmed with joy that I now knew what was wrong with my husband as well as how to make it go away. "Thank you Mario, you just saved Earvin's life" I said with excitement as I hung up the phone with a big smile on my face.

Now it's about 1:30 a.m. Sunday morning. I immediately called Earvin's room to tell him the good news. Almost in ecstasy, I exclaimed "Honey, guess what? I found the cure to your condition!" Being thrilled to death with my exciting news, Earvin begins to vigorously press his call button until the nurse arrives. We requested the doctor's presence. Still bubbling with joy, I explained to the doctor what Mario told me, emphasizing the fact that it's a race against time. The doctor calmly replied "I don't think it's that bad yet." I shouted "Well what are you waiting for, it to get that bad?!" He continued to sell that same story about the alcohol and said that he was pretty sure it is what he was saying earlier. With a stern voice, I asked "Can you at least research this problem to make sure that it's not Necrotizing Fasciitis?" "Sure," he said and gave the phone back to my husband. I told Earvin to get some rest and that I would see him in the morning.

Sunday mid-morning

I called my husband's room, only this time, with Mario (my best friend's husband, who is a doctor) on the other line via three-way calling. I figured, if the doctors wouldn't listen to me last night then maybe they will listen to another doctor. Mario and I spoke with Earvin's doctor and explained how we felt. He assured us that his infection wasn't that bad and that they weren't looking at amputation or anything of that matter. Mario asked him about the antibiotics and other medications. The doctor said they switched antibiotics and it should begin to work (even though they were already using the best one available). He also added that the swelling appeared to be going down. Mario, being satisfied with his responses, assumed they were on the right track and since the swelling was decreasing that everything should be alright. After hanging up from the doctor, I asked Earvin was the swelling going down and he said "Hell No!" I told him I was on my way there and I'll be able to see for myself if there had been any change.

Approximately twenty minutes later, my mother-in-law, who was at the hospital with Earvin, calls me and says "They just had Earvin sign some type of Release and they are taking him to surgery." I screamed "They can't do that! His doctor just told me that everything looked OK and there's nothing to be alarmed about. Why are they all of a sudden taking him to surgery? Plus, he is in no condition to sign anything. He has been delirious with fever the past three days!!" She said "I asked them to wait until you got here but they are taking him anyway." "Don't let them take him because if they didn't know what they were doing while they were checking him out, then I doubt if they know what to do if they operate and find something." I told her I was on my way and hung up the phone. After the doctors blew me off on the phone when I asked them to check for Necrotizing Fasciitis and then lied about the swelling going down, I had all intentions on removing him from that hospital and taking him somewhere else. I called Earvin's regular physician and asked him was it unusual for this type of procedure. He said "not really" and briefly explained why. I decided not to worry and trust that the doctors knew what they were doing-ldiots...BIG MISTAKE.

The clock in the waiting area said 5:35 p.m. Earvin had just came out of surgery. The doctors approached me and the rest of the family to give us the news. They began with "It's not very good. His immune system is not fighting back and most of the bacteria has infected all of the tissues in his body." I quickly asked "Was it Necrotizing Fasciitis?" They replied, "Yes, it was." "Can we see him?" my mother-in-law asked. "Sure, but we are going to keep his leg open for further observation."

I walked into his room. An oxygen hose was taped over his mouth. His left leg was gutted open with gauge and towels surrounding it. His body was trembling. I slowly walked over to the bed. As I looked into his eyes I could see his fear. I smiled and gently grabbed his hand. I told him the surgery went great and that he was going to be alright. He couldn't speak, so he squeezed my hand. He was so scared. The doctors said they gave him something to help him sleep. I told him that if he falls asleep and has a bad dream, just say "IN THE NAME OF JESUS" three times and the bad stuff will go away. I reassured him that he was going to be up and around in no time. I held his hand and waited until he began to relax. The nurse looked at me and whispered "He lost a lot of blood." I turned to her and viciously whispered back "He didn't have any to fight back with because I watched all of you take it from him!" Before Earvin fell asleep, I told him that I was going to church to pray and I'll be back as soon as I'm done.

Sunday night (The worst night of my life)

I left the hospital in a daze. I had cleaned his room and brought as many things home as I could. I vacantly parked the car and walked toward the front door carrying a bag of clothes, a vase with flowers and a few books and cards. On the sidewalk I glanced down and notice EM2 engraved in the cement. Since Earvin and I had the same initials EM and EM we decided to call ourselves EM2. I hadn't noticed it in a while. I actually had forgotten how Earvin and I carved EM2 in the wet cement a couple of years ago and paid a nearby homeless guy to protect it until it dried. When I got inside the house, I slowly sat all his belongings down then proceeded to the bedroom. Just before stepping inside of the bedroom, I fell to my knees and began to cry and sob frantically. I balled myself up on the carpet and wept like I had never wept before.

After some time, I calmed down and said to myself "Gosh Liz, your acting as if he's already dead." Confronting that thought, I sprung to my feet, wiped my tears and began to fight for my husband's life. I got on the phone and called all of his friends and told them that he was just out of surgery and need some cheering up. I called at least twenty people. Even his best friend in Los Angeles. I told him that I didn't know what he could do but Earvin needed some moral support. "Well, I'm in the middle of getting this gig," he said. He is a well known actor in California. I replied, "Rich, some things are worth missing a gig over." Recognizing the seriousness in my voice, Rich said, "I'll call him now." I was very clear when I instructed everyone I talked to not to go to the hospital saying anything negative, no crying and no whispering outside of his room. I said "Keep him occupied and upbeat until I get there" and thanked them all.

They were having some type of celebration at the church. They had filled the church sanctuary with numerous balloons and everyone was free to take one. I picked a pretty blue one, Earvin's favorite color and took it with me. It was 10:00 p.m. as I drove through the hospital parking structure looking for a park. I noticed his friend Mike's car. I said to myself "Oh good, someone made it." I bounced through the halls of the hospital and onto the elevator. I pressed floor 5. When the elevator doors opened, I immediately saw Mike sitting in the lobby with his head down crying. He looked up at me. Still energized from church and not giving him an opportunity to speak, I said "Don't worry Mike, it's going to be alright" as I fanned my balloon at him. He said nothing. I walked toward the ICU units and proceeded down the hall to Earvin's room.

The hospital was dark. Most of the lights were out like everyone was sleeping. A female security guard silently patrolled the hallway. As I walked pass her, she said "Hey, wait a minute." Seeing as though I had been at this same hospital and have seen these same people all weekend, I just kept walking. Thinking to myself, "she can't be talking to me." "WAIT A MINUTE!", she repeated louder as she stuck her arm out to block my path. I stopped abruptly and asked "Oh, I'm sorry, is something going on?" She replied, "Yes, something's going on." So, I stood there patiently, waiting for the crisis to be over. As I looked down the hall, I noticed the doctors and nurses were running in and out of Earvin's room. I dropped my balloon and shouted "OH MY GOD, THAT'S MY HUSBAND'S ROOM!" I ran towards his room but before I could reach the door, the doctor met me in my steps. He asked "Are you Mrs. Mayfield?" "Yes" I replied eagerly. With a short pause, slowly he said "I'm sorry." I said "What?" "I'm sorry" he said again. I asked him "What do you mean, I'm sorry," as if I had never heard those words before. I had but only in movies. The doctor calmly replied "I'm sorry Mrs. Mayfield, your husband has passed away." Shocked and in mere disbelief, I screamed "WHEN?" He said "Just now," with the same sympathetic voice as when he began. I repeated, "Just now?" "Yes, just now," he said. I told the doctor "WELL, IF HE JUST PASSED AWAY, THEN HIS SPIRIT IS STILL IN THE ROOM, I'M GOING IN!" I ran into the room and there he was.

He was lying on his back in the hospital bed. His arms had collapsed and were hanging openly over each side of the bed. His leg was still cut open and exposed. It was surrounded with even more bloody gauges and bloody towels. The oxygen tube was no longer taped over his mouth. His eyes were open but his body had no life. I ran to his side. I grabbed his head and hugged him as tight as I could. I rocked back and forth with my eyes closed. I kissed him on his forehead. I hugged him some more as I told him how much I loved him. The nurses asked me to please let go and escorted me to the nurse's station. I sat in a chair completely in shock. I wondered, "How could this be? It has only been three days. He came in because his ankle was hurting. How could my husband of eight happily married years, my soul mate and the man I fell in love with at first sight on a blind date, be gone?" Approximately four minutes later I decided I had to go back to the room and see him one more time! The nurse asked me "Wouldn't you like to wait until we have him all cleaned up before going back in there?" I said "NO! If this just happened, then his spirit has got to still be in there" and walked quickly toward the room. They were reluctant to let me go back in but with a soft and steady voice, I said "I promise not to destroy or mess up anything, I just want to be with him." The doctor nodded and they let me go back into the room.

I looked at him all over. My eyes traveled from the top to the bottom of his motionless body. I touch him. His hands were cold. I held him in my arms for a little while longer. I finally let go and kissed him good-bye. I was crushed as I left the room. It felt as if my body had been drained of all its energy. I was hollow and empty inside. I couldn't believe this flesh-eating bacteria called Necrotizing Fasciitis, that no one knew much about or how you get it, had killed my otherwise, strong and healthy husband in three days.

Later that night, I promised myself and my husband that his death will not go in vain. Necrotizing Fasciitis had robbed me of a precious gift of life. Earvin was a good man, a great father and a perfect husband. His friends loved him and he was well liked and respected by his peers and associates. I knew I would never be at peace until I did something to find out about this killer bacteria, Necrotizing Fasciitis. I wanted to know how it operates, why it kills so fast and how can it be stopped!

I feel the doctors are equally at fault for not taking the proper steps to research this bacteria and how to prevent it. Particularly after me and another doctor suggested that Earvin's condition could have been a result of Necrotizing Fasciitis. No one should have to experience this type of unexpected loss or defeat. I hope my story, along with the help of the National Necrotizing Fasciitis Foundation and others, will be able to stop this deadly bacteria and put an end to these tragic and sudden deaths. At the very least, I hope our efforts give others a chance to act accordingly, in a timely manner, and possible save themselves or someone they love.

I'm no expert but I do have first hand experience in dealing with Necrotizing Fasciitis, its symptoms and speaking to doctors regarding it. The following are a few suggestions, I recommend, if symptoms of Necrotizing Fasciitis occur:

1. If you or someone you know has an extremely high fever or excruciating pain in a particular part of their body, go to the hospital immediately! Try to go to a university hospital or one similar because they have facilities on the premises to do any research that may be needed.
2. Ask the doctors to immediately check for Necrotizing Fasciitis. Remember, it is a race against time.
3. Find a competent, experienced surgeon and have the bacteria removed as quickly as possible.
4. If the doctors are not cooperating, be very firm and insistent. There is no harm in being very careful and checking out everything possible. But there is GREAT HARM in letting the condition worsen and continue to spread.
5. If the doctors are still unwilling to cooperate, FIND ANOTHER HOSPITAL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!
6. And last but not least, PRAY, PRAY, PRAY.

Thank you for listening to my story and letting me share my experience with you. Writing this story for the NNFF is the first step in succeeding with my quest to find peace within, knowing that I am working toward capturing my husband's killer and putting an end to Necrotizing Fasciitis. I know my husband would be proud.

I Love You Earvin.