My story began over thirty years ago. I was thirteen and my husband was fourteen when we first met. It was the beginning of the school year at lunch time. My friend and I were talking to some boys on our lunch hour. A boy that I didn't know walked up and joined us - he was a friend of the boys we were talking to. It was almost like "love at first sight" between the two of us. We soon started going steady which was the thing to do back then. We spent most of our free time together when we weren't in class or my husband wasn't working. We lived near the Pacific Ocean. He worked on a shipwrecked boat which had been turned into an aquarium for the public. He worked with all kinds of sea life including seals and sharks. One of my younger sister's fondest memories is being taken to the aquarium and many other places with us. My husband was very good about taking my kid sister with us when we went places. Most teenage boys would not have been so understanding but my husband was always kind and gentle. Some of my fondest memories included walking hand in hand along the beach or walking along the forest trails.

Our relationship was never without problems. It was almost like Kevin and Winnie on the TV program "Wonder Years". We would break up and then we would get back together again. We were married when he was eighteen and I was seventeen. Although we were very poor, the first year of our marriage were some of the happiest days of my life. If only I could go back!

After we married, everything seemed to go wrong for us financially. My first baby was born when I was just eighteen. She was a beautiful baby from the moment she was born and we were very proud of her. My husband was working in the grocery industry but could not seem to get a full-time position. Many times we barely had money left over for food after we paid the rent and utility bills. When my daughter was only six weeks old, we had to move to a different part of our state to live. My husband picked this area because he had an older brother that lived there. I never did like living there. I had to leave my family and friends. We stayed at his brother's house in a tiny bedroom and as they didn't have an air conditioner; we were very hot and uncomfortable. The area that we moved from was a small town near the ocean of approximately 25,000 people and the temperature rarely was above 70°. The area that we moved to was made up of many different cities but they might as well have been one because as soon as one ended, another one began. Although we finally moved to our own place when my husband got a full-time job, I was never happy in that part of the country. I dreamed of the ocean and forests back home.

When my daughter was two years old, we moved to another part of the State. We have continued to live in this area up until the time of this story. My son was born here. Although we have had many problems in our marriage, we had stayed together for almost 29 years when my husband passed away. We were looking forward to spending our old age together and I can truthfully say that at the time of his death, we had never been closer. My husband was a wonderful man. He was a coach for my son's baseball team for many years. He also served as Vice President of the local league and on the Board of Directors for the entire Northern part of our State. It was his dream to help children and he wanted to help by getting them involved in sports activities to "keep them off the streets". He came up against a lot of opposition from the parents because they were out there to "win" and he wanted all of the kids to be able to have a chance to play ball and he went strictly "by the rules".

Although my husband was raised in a household where his stepfather was not close to his children, my husband was very close to his own children and they went to him whenever they needed to talk to someone. Because my husband's stepfather never voluntarily spent any time with our children, my husband wanted to spend as much time as he could with his grandchildren. At my husband's funeral my daughter picked the song "Butterfly Kisses" to dedicate to her father and my son dedicated a song called "Forty Again" to dedicate to him. It was about a son wishing his father was forty again to relive the good times. Shortly after my husband's death, my daughter said that the song by Shania Twain called "You're Still the One" should have been dedicated to my husband and myself and it is very true. People tried to tell us that our marriage wouldn't last but we had made it through the bad years and everything was going fairly well for us.

We had decided that we had gone so many years without much that we deserved to have something for ourselves. We decided to buy a new house - it has been very, very difficult for me to accept that if we hadn't bought this house, my husband might still be alive today. Right after he passed away, I really couldn't afford to keep the house by myself and I hated it anyway so I almost decided to sell it. When I found out that I would lose all of the money and more that we had put into it through real estate fees, etc., I decided to wait for a while. After all, this was our dream house. We spent months and months looking for a house which had the amenities that we both wanted. It is so sad that my husband only had a year to enjoy it.

My husband had wanted to have a backyard put in but we only had enough money for the down payment and the money the home builder allowed us for upgrades was soon gone. I wish that we had decided to go with the backyard and had put linoleum on the floor instead of tile. The weeds in the backyard were terrible. Before new homes were built there, it had been farm land which hadn't been used as such for a long time. There was also a wet land area near our home. When we had been in our home for a year, my husband decided he was going to do something about our backyard. Although he used gloves, he developed a severe case of Poison Oak on just his hands. He hated to go to the doctor due to very negative experiences in the past so he treated the Poison Oak himself.

After a couple of weeks, the Poison Oak started to get better. Although I begged him not to; he went back out in the yard and pulled more weeds. He was determined to do something about the yard before Spring was over. As he didn't say anything to me, I didn't realize the Poison Oak had returned. I didn't find out until my son told me after his death that the Sunday before he got so sick; his Poison Oak had gotten worse again. I know it was because he didn't want to upset me.

He was under a lot of pressure at work to complete a project so during the week after the Poison Oak had returned; he worked overtime every night. I hardly saw him. On Friday evening after work, he said he was feeling chilled and he went to bed early. On Saturday morning, I woke up before him and went into the family room. I was sitting there working on some paperwork and all of a sudden I heard a loud crash. I ran into our bedroom and found my husband on the floor in the bathroom. He had fallen. I asked him what was wrong and he said he had the "dry heaves". I asked him what happened and what had caused the loud crash. He seemed confused and so I felt his forehead. He was very hot. I estimated his temperature at 102m. All day long, I had to wake him up to give him liquids and ibuprofen. His temperature stayed high most of the day. I was very worried about him. Right after he fell, my sister-in-law called and I was very upset and didn't know what to do. I was afraid that he may have had a stroke because he smoked, had moderately high blood pressure and had a family history of heart problems. In fact, just a week before, I had attended a stroke seminar at work because I was worried about him. My sister-in-law calmed me down; her mother was a doctor and she offered to call her mother for me. I declined her offer because I have a physical condition which has caused me a lot of pain and I have been treated by my doctor and people that I work with as if I was making too big of a deal out of my physical problems. After going through all of that; I was concerned that I was making too big of a deal of my husband's condition; unfortunately, I should have demanded more instead of less attention for him. Later in the afternoon, I decided that I should take my husband to the urgent care facility. I called the physician association that he was associated with. They took a message and the doctor on call soon called me back. After describing my husband's symptoms, the doctor on call said "This is not a medical emergency." I decided then that as soon as my husband was better, I was going to change him over to my Physician Association because I felt sure that they would have had me bring him in. My husband's symptoms included a high fever (I told them at least 102°), nausea, that he had been asleep all day and I had to wake him up just to give him fluids, that he had fallen that morning and didn't even remember it. The doctor asked me if his neck hurt. I said I didn't think so. (Later when I asked him, he said "no"). That's when the doctor told me that he didn't think it was a medical emergency. With my history of making "too much of everything", I simply said "Thank you." I paused to see if the doctor wanted to add anything else. He didn't say anything so I hung up.

Sunday morning, my husband's fever was a bit better and he got up a few times without falling. He did throw up at least once. Sunday afternoon, his fever was back up again. I asked him if he wanted me to take him to a different urgent care facility and he said that he could wait until the next day. On Monday morning as soon as the doctor's office opened, I called and made him an appointment for 9:00 a.m. I went in and told him and he said that he didn't think he was strong enough to make it by that time. He needed to shower and shave, etc. I tried to call and change his appointment but all that I got was the recording that the office was closed. He got up and tried to take a shower and he fell again. I had to get him a step stool to pull himself on. When he tried to pull himself up, he said that it was extremely painful. I thought that he must have hurt himself in one of his falls. He got back in bed and I tried to shave him. He would doze off and every time I tried to shave him, he would jerk himself awake. Doesn't this sound like a very seriously sick man to you? We were running late so I again tried to call the doctor's office and I got the same recording as before. I then got him dressed the best I could. I rushed him down to the doctor's office. I got a wheelchair and took him in. We were late so I parked in the handicapped parking. The receptionist wanted me to fill out the paperwork so I told her I needed to move my car; she then made a comment about us being so late. Before we finished the paperwork; we were called into the doctor's office. The nurse took my husband's vital signs. I asked her what my husband's blood pressure was. It was approximately 120/60. I asked her why it was so low and that it was normally much higher than that. His temperature was approximately 100.6°. I told the nurse that I had taken his temperature the day before by mouth (Sunday) and that it had been 102°. She acted like she didn't believe me. When the doctor came in, he ordered an EKG, I again asked why his blood pressure was so low; the doctor's only comment was that he felt my husband had the blood pressure of a very healthy man. I told him that my husband's blood pressure was normally higher and that in February he had been in an auto accident and when we went to the urgent care facility; they said that his blood pressure was high and he should have it checked. The doctor called the urgent care facility and had them check his records; all they said was that sometimes after a car accident, a person's blood pressure was high for a few days. I tried to tell them that his blood pressure was always a bit high but they wouldn't listen. I told the doctor about his fall on Saturday and again that morning. He asked my husband where it hurt. When he lifted his arm; he indicated his rib area. The doctor sent him to get an X-ray of his chest and ribs. It showed that nothing was broken so the doctor said that his ribs were bruised from the fall. The doctor had ordered blood and urine tests; I found out later that the blood tests were abnormal. My husband was so dehydrated that he could not give a urine sample. The doctor then said that we could go home and to call back after 2:00 p.m. for the results of the blood tests and that would determine whether or not I would need to bring him back for fluids. He didn't seem to think that he should need fluids because I had given him sufficient liquid over the weekend. I had mentioned to the nurse that I wanted the doctor to check my husband's hands; she didn't even write it on the chart. My husband reminded me and when the doctor came back from writing notes in his chart; I asked him to look at my husband's hands. He looked at them; at least one already had dark bruised-looking places on it. I told the doctor it was from Poison Oak. He wouldn't even touch them; all he did was prescribe an Anti-fungal ointment for him. When I took the prescription to the Pharmacy; the Pharmacist gave me a consultation and told me that the medication was an Anti-fungal ointment. I asked her why he would prescribe an Anti-fungal ointment for Poison Oak. She said that the ointment had steroids in it (which I know is sometimes given to treat Poison Oak) and that maybe the doctor thought the sores were infected. In my experiences; a doctor usually takes a scraping of the sore to send to a lab before he determines whether an infection is a fungal infection or a bacterial infection but that was not done. Also, I've never seen Poison Oak turn dark but then I'm not a doctor and I felt I didn't have enough knowledge to question his diagnosis.

We were then sent home; it was around lunchtime. We had spent the whole morning there. The doctor said to call back after 2:00 p.m. to find out the results of my husband's blood tests to see if he needed to come back for fluids. On the way home, I stopped at the store to buy him some more drinks and soft foods. I just recently threw away the rest of the Jell-O that he didn't get to eat. While I was in the store, he got sick and threw up outside of the car. I got him home and put him to bed. I was able to get him to drink a little soda and eat a little Jell-o. He then fell asleep. After a while, I went back in to check on him. His temperature was high again. It was after 2 p.m. so I called the doctor's office. The receptionist took a message and said she would have the nurse call me back. At 4:45 p.m., I called back again. I was very worried by this time. The receptionist said they were busy admitting someone to the hospital. I said I would stay on hold until I could talk to someone. The nurse got on the line and said the blood tests were abnormal and the doctor wanted to see my husband again the next morning. I told her his temperature was up again, he had thrown up again, and had hardly had any fluids since leaving their office that morning. I also told her I was very worried about him and didn't know what to do for him anymore. She put me on hold and talked to the doctor. He told her to have me take him to the emergency room and gave me the names of several I could take him to. (I wish now that I had picked a different one). To me, all hospitals should be the same as far as emergency care for their patients is concerned. The nurse told me they were admitting someone else to a particular hospital and if I wanted to take him there; she would let them know that we were coming. As this hospital was closest to our home; I said I would take him there. When I got my husband up out of bed; he got sick to his stomach and passed out and fell to his knees. Does this sound like a normal flu to you?

We arrived at the emergency at approximately 5:30 p.m. and I got a wheelchair and took my husband inside and we signed in. After waiting for a long time, we were finally called up to fill out the paperwork. I had to sign for my husband because it hurt his arm to write. After a short wait, the nurse called us in and they took his vital signs. I told her he had fallen and the doctor had taken X-rays and said he had contusions in his rib area and his right arm was sore. She took his blood pressure on his right arm anyway which I thought was rather mean after what I had just told her. He didn't complain so I guess it wasn't too painful at that time. His blood pressure was still low. He was then put in a bed in the emergency room and they immediately started an IV. A different nurse came in to put in his IV. As his right arm was sore; I had asked her to put the IV in his left hand. She asked me what was wrong with his hands and I noticed that his left hand also had dark, bruised-looking places on them. I told her he had Poison Oak. The doctor came in and I told him everything that had happened that day; I think the only thing I left out was the Poison Oak on his hands because he had some ointment to put on them so they should start to get better (apparently, this was the most important information I could have given the doctor but his hands were in plain view so I can't imagine why he wouldn't have noticed them in his examination). He took more blood tests and as I had told him that the doctor had said the tests he had taken earlier were abnormal; he called the doctor's office to check the records there. We waited quite a while and when the blood tests came back, the doctor came back in and verified that the blood tests were again abnormal. He added some kind of anti-nausea medicine to the IV. My husband was in the emergency room until 10:30 p.m. that night. I was not with him the whole time; I made a few phone calls and got something to eat. I have no idea what my husband said to the doctor. I only know that the records were very vague. At approximately 10:30 p.m., my husband's blood pressure had started to go up again although I felt that it was still very low for him. His temperature was lower and he was allowed to take some fluids by mouth. They gave him a popsicle. He started to shake uncontrollably and I called the nurse in and she went to tell the doctor. When she came back; she said that the doctor felt that it was because his temperature was about to break. I asked when they thought he could go home. They said that they were waiting for him to urinate. After a short time, the nurse came back again and started to get him ready to go home; he never did go to the bathroom and they had given him four bags of fluids. He was still shaking uncontrollably. The doctor gave me a prescription for more anti-nausea medicine and told me to give him Tylenol instead of the ibuprofen that I had been giving him because of his upset stomach. He also told me to take him back to his own doctor within the next couple of days; in his records, he wrote down the next day. I certainly would have taken him if that was what he had said to me. He also told me where an all-night pharmacy was if I needed to get his prescription filled that night. His diagnosis was "acute gastritis".

I went to get the car and the nurse took my husband out in a wheelchair and I picked him up. He was still shaking uncontrollably. He immediately turned on the heater full blast although it wasn't a cold night. I reminded him that the doctor had said not to cover up because it might cause his temperature to go back up. He said that he couldn't stand being so cold; it was causing him to ache all over. As soon as we got home he went to bed and put as many covers as he could find on himself and immediately fell asleep. I removed one of the covers later. I went to check on him several times during the night. The next morning when I woke up; my husband was already up. He told me that his fever had broken during the night and he had sweated profusely. He seemed much better. I asked him if he wanted me to stay home from work; he said "no". As I had something I really needed to finish that day at work; I went in. I told my boss that I would need to leave as soon as I was done; he said OK. I had left my husband sitting up watching TV with the phone right next to him. I called many times during the day to check on him and he said that he was doing OK. Apparently my daughter called him; he told her he was feeling better but that his right arm was hurting him and it felt really strange. A lady called him from his job and he told her the same thing. Once when I called to check on him, he told me that the doctor from the emergency room had called to check on him; I thought that was really nice of the doctor. The doctor told my husband that they had almost admitted him; I can only wish they had. Maybe someone would have realized what was really wrong with him. I can't imagine after telling my daughter and also someone from work that his arm was really hurting him why he wouldn't have said something to the doctor, too. There was no record of the doctor even calling him in the hospital's records. I got home about 1:30 p.m. and immediately called the doctor's office. I told her that the doctor said to bring him back that day or the next day. She made me an appointment for 3:30 p.m. the next day which was Wednesday. This was also my day off from work. I asked my husband if he wanted me to get him anything from the store as I had something I had to mail that day. He told me several things that he wanted and I went to the store. When I returned, my husband told me his arm was hurting him; and as I thought it was from his bruised ribs, I got some cold packs to put on his injury. The nurse at the doctor's office had said to put cold packs on his injury for the pain when I asked her what to do for the pain. Later, I went to bed but he remained up watching TV. His arm was still very painful. I was up checking on him during the night. He couldn't sleep because he was in so much pain. I gave him more pain medication and more cold compresses. As I was totally exhausted, I fell asleep again. At approximately 6:30 a.m., I woke up. He was up and he showed me his arm. It was swollen up approximately double what it should have been. I said why didn't he wake me up and tell me that his arm was so swollen and we could have gone back to the emergency room; he said that hadn't even occurred to him. (From what I understand; this disease causes the patient to become confused.) I got up and got dressed; and I tried to dress him but I couldn't get his shirt on him because it was too painful for him so I just put it around him. We went back to the emergency room arriving there at approximately 7:00 a.m. They called us up to get more information; and the person taking the information asked if we had called the number on his medical card. This was extremely annoying to me but she said that she had to do it. I told her he was in extreme pain and had been up all night because it was so bad. She called and they approved it and we were called in and the nurse took his vitals again. I told them he had been there on Monday night. He was then put back in bed and the doctor came in. My husband said he needed something for the pain. They put another IV on him and they gave him two pain shots before he became comfortable. They took him for more X-rays. They did more blood tests. The doctor was then called away because of a "Code Blue" in the hospital. When he came back, he apologized but said he had to respond when that happened. He told me nothing had showed up on the X-rays but they were going to admit my husband to the hospital because his arm would need to be elevated. He told me that they suspected that he had caused a blockage to his blood flow when he fell and hurt himself and that they had called a specialist and that he wouldn't be there until about noon. I had numerous errands that I had to run that day because I only had a day off during the week every other week and I felt obligated to take care of these errands as I wanted to spend as much time with my husband that evening as I could. I told him I loved him and that I would be back as soon as I could. I noticed that he had a slight rash on his forehead and I told him that he should mention it to the doctor. He didn't say much; I felt he was a little upset with me for leaving. I took care of one errand and went back to the hospital before noon as that was when the specialist was supposed to be there. My husband had been moved to a different bed and the nurse told me that they had taken him to have a cat scan. She didn't act like there was anything to be concerned about so after waiting a short while; I asked her to tell my husband I was going to finish my errands and that I would be back as soon as I could.

I finished my errands and returned to the hospital at approximately 3:30p.m. They immediately took me to the intensive care unit and had me call the doctor in charge on the phone outside. He told me that my husband had Necrotizing Fasciitis (the flesh-eating bacteria) and that he was in serious condition. I was still on the phone in the hall. I said "He's not going to die is he?" The doctor went on to explain to me that there was a possibility that he wouldn't make it. I felt like I had been socked in the stomach. I leaned against the wall. The doctor then asked me where I was; I told him I was out in the hall. He then came out to talk to me. I don't remember much that was said except that a surgeon had been called and that my husband was going to be operated on and that they would probably have to amputate his arm. I had no knowledge at this time of the symptoms of this disease although I had heard that it could be serious. Several months earlier, I had stayed up late to watch the late news because they had said on the earlier news that they would be having a special about it. I fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up it was over. I didn't know that I had missed information that could have been vital to my husband's life. I don't know why there hasn't been more publicity about this disease because it is very rare but it is imperative that it be treated immediately. If left untreated, it is almost always fatal. Also, most doctors have never seen a case and are not up-to-date on the symptoms.

After talking to the doctor, a social worker in the hospital was called for me. I went in to see my husband but they had already sedated him; I didn't even get to say goodbye. The social worker took me to the waiting room because they had more work to do on my husband before the surgery and I called my daughter and son because I knew they would want to be there. I also called my sister and told her. She relayed the information to the rest of my family and she called my work for me. I still had a huge knot in my stomach and I felt like I was in shock. I was then taken back to be with my husband. Everything was unreal to me even then. I held my husband's hand and told him I loved him; I don't know if he heard me. The surgeon arrived and at approximately 5:30 p.m., they took him to surgery. I went with them. The surgeon talked with me briefly and I said, "Please save him." He said "OK" but he looked away and I knew there was not much hope. The social worker took me to the waiting room and my family began to arrive. My husband was in surgery for several hours. When he was in recovery, the surgeon came to talk to me. He said that they had to remove the infection under the skin in his arm and chest wall. His blood pressure dropped and they had to amputate his arm to save his life. He seemed to feel that they had gotten all of it. Now that I know the symptoms; I am very puzzled as to why they didn't check his other hand as it was bruised-looking too. I know now that this is one of the symptoms of this disease; dark blisters where the infection has gotten under the skin.

The nightmare then began. They let my family have a conference room to stay in and they let two of us in at a time. I insisted on staying right with him. Even when they made us leave from time to time; I only went as far as the hallway outside his room which was still in the intensive care unit. The rest of my family took turns coming in to be with me. I held his hand and told him I loved him over and over. I only hope that he could hear me. At first, the nurses concentrated on trying to get his blood pressure back up. They gave him a transfusion and the nurse would warm the blood between her hands. It kept dropping back down again and although they kept giving him fluids and transfusions continuously during the night; it would come back up and then drop again. At one point during the night, the specialist that had taken my husband's case called my children and myself into the conference room to talk to us. He asked us to make a decision about life support for my husband and told us at that point that he only had less than a 15% chance to make it. He wanted to know if we wanted them to take him off the respirator. I said I couldn't make that decision. He then asked if we wanted them to restart his heart if it stopped. I said don't make me make that decision. The children agreed with me at that time.

This was at approximately 10:00 p.m. All through the night, I sat by him and talked to him. My family took turns coming in. When they weren't with me, they stayed in the conference room and slept on the floor. There were about seven of us there all night. My brother had called my husband's stepfather and brothers. His stepfather is the only one that lives in our area; the others live out-of-state. One of my husband's brothers started out to come to be with us. He brought my niece with him and they drove all night; it is at least a 700 mile trip from where he lives but I am very glad he came. He has been such a help to me.

As the hours dragged by; my husband's system began to shut down. His kidney's began to fail and he was unable to eliminate the fluids they were giving him. His whole body began to swell up; and yet they continued to fight for his life. The next morning the specialist called my children and myself in to talk to us. He told us that my husband's chances were now "0" and they couldn't give him any more fluids and they wanted to know if we wanted them to restart his heart when he died. We all agreed that we didn't want to put him through that; that he had already suffered enough. I asked if we could go back to be with him. Up to that point, I had tried to be brave and not cry when I was with him but when I got back in his room; I broke down and cried and I couldn't stop. The nurse said that she would break the rules and let as many of us be with him that wanted to be there. She called the hospital chaplain. Many people had been praying for my husband during the night. My family came in around his bed and my brother-in-law came in and we prayed again. The hospital chaplain came in and said a prayer for us. At approximately 10:00 a.m., my husband passed away. Five minutes later, his brother arrived from out-of-town and we all hugged each other and cried some more. I had already kissed my husband on the forehead and said good-bye but before I left his room, I laid my head across his chest and said "What am I going to do without you?" I felt that I had nothing left to live for. The nurse cried too and she said that she had been with my husband the day before and before they sedated him, he had been joking around about needing to got to the bathroom. That sounds just like him. I asked her if he knew how serious his condition was and she said "no". She told me that he had asked if I had returned yet and that he seemed a little afraid. It was good to know about these last conscious moments of my husband's life and I thanked her for all her help and I left the room.

The next days went by in a blur. I guess your system goes into a sort of shock and you go through the motions of the funeral, etc. I took care of the things I had to and the rest of the time I just laid around wishing I were dead instead of my husband. I couldn't sleep at night; I would start to doze off and I would have flash backs of that terrible night in the hospital. I couldn't eat anything solid; I didn't think food would go past the knot in my stomach. I lived on Instant Breakfast for weeks after my husband's death. Since he died, I have lost 20 pounds. I have always had trouble losing weight until now. I just couldn't believe that it was real and that at any time I would wake up from this nightmare. It took months before reality finally set in.

My husband's funeral was beautiful. We had decided to have the service at the Mortuary and a pastor from the church I had been attending officiated. It was a very nice service. My husband's coffin was closed because as my bother-in-law said, "It would have been impossible to pick my husband out of a lineup"; he was so unrecognizable at the time of his death. I had asked the nurse if there was any way he could be made to look like himself again and she said "no".

Many of our old neighbors and people he worked with attended the funeral. The mortuary was almost full. Many people had a lot of nice things to say about him. My husband's family attended; many of them coming from out-of-state and driving many miles to be there. I can't tell you how comforting it was to me for them to come and be with us. My family was there and many of the people I work with came. My husband was going to be cremated but my daughter wanted her dad to be there with us. When the body had arrived at the funeral home; his arm was not with it. She insisted that they release his arm and had the funeral home pick it up from the hospital. She wanted all of him there.

After the initial shock; I finally began to realize that my husband was never going to return and I was never going to wake up and find him there. Then the depression really began to sink in. I had gone to my doctor a couple of weeks after my husband died and my doctor prescribed anti-depressants for me. I am still taking them at this time. I've always had trouble sleeping but never before have I ever had any trouble eating.

I feel I have come a long way since my husband died. I still go to a psychologist monthly. I have returned to work but it has been very hard for me to want to go on with my life. I have been to bereavement groups which have been very helpful to me. Most of the time now; I accept that my husband will never come back. My faith holds me together now and I know that someday, I will see him again in a much better place where there is no pain; either physical or mental. I hope someday when I become stronger that I will be able to help other people that are going through what I have and be able to give them the encouragement that others have given me during the last year.

The National Necrotizing Fasciitis Foundation has been very helpful to me during this terrible experience. At their web site, you can find out more about the symptoms of this terrible disease. You will also find more stories about people who have had this disease and survived and about others who were less fortunate. Their web site is http://www.nnff.org.