Jody Short was ankle-deep in snow in February, shovel in hand, when searing pain shot through his left leg. “I almost passed out from the pain,” Short recalled recently, speaking quietly from the recreation room of the Miller Center in St. John’s, where he has been sidelined for three months. Short ended up in the hospital, rushed into surgery to have an aortic dissection—a tear in his main artery and the start of a nightmare series of medical problems that would eventually leave him unable to walk or return home. He had about a 40 percent chance of surviving that operation, he said, prompting his family and even the surgeons to say a prayer and say goodbye before he went under the knife. When he awoke from his coma a week later, Short faced yet another obstacle: unexpected paralysis. Suddenly, at 40, he found himself bedridden, unable to feed himself or brush his teeth, in constant pain. A few weeks later, Short’s mother discovered a wound on his left buttock, with veins that were vivid and red, as if “something had spread from that area,” Short said. He was rushed into surgery again the next day, this time for necrotizing fasciitis – more commonly known as carnivore disease. Short’s sister prays at his bedside after surgery to remove the infection. (Submitted by Elizabeth Hogan) “Very few people live from this kind of disease,” he said. “It was like everything was going wrong. I hadn’t had a chance to really deal with the paralysis yet.” Doctors began talking about amputating his leg and removing part of his pelvis to stop the bacteria from fatally invading his body. Short refused, thinking it was already too late. “They go in and wash out everything they can to save my life,” Short said, referring to the removal of damaged tissue. Surgeons removed most of the muscle in his left thigh and buttock, tunneling through his back before essentially giving up, he recalled. The disease had spread too far, too fast. Short spent months in a hyperbaric chamber to prevent his infection from returning. (Submitted by Elizabeth Hogan) Doctors gave Short 48 hours to live. “I started calling, reading my phone and calling all my friends… [to] express how much I value the friendship. My life was about to end, wasn’t it?’ The next morning, Short woke up feeling strangely better. “I was energized and ready to go,” he said. “It was like a miracle.” Shorts woke up the next day, and the next day, he was noticeably better. His doctors, he says, were stunned. A CAT scan showed that the infection had simply disappeared. Short spent the next six months in hyperbaric therapy to prevent the bacteria from returning while waiting for his wounds to heal. In August, he arrived at the Miller Center to learn how to live independently in a wheelchair, which he will need for the rest of his life. It’s still not gone.
The long wait for home
These days, he’s busy working on his arm strength and spending time with friends, waiting and wondering when he might be able to return home to Conception Bay South. Short says his applications for provincial disability benefits were rejected because they were based on last year’s tax returns. Short works daily on his arm strength and leg flexibility at the Miller Centre, where he currently lives. (Malone Mullin/CBC) He’s been out of work for months, he says, and can’t afford to build a wheelchair ramp, widen doors and remodel his kitchen and bathroom to accommodate his new disability. The Department of Health declined to comment on Short’s condition, pointing instead to Newfoundland and Labrador Housing (NLHC), which administers the province’s home modification program. The NLHC has not yet responded to CBC News’ requests.
“Living in a vacuum”
Short’s friend Elizabeth Hogan recalled Short calling her from his deathbed. “Every emotion you could imagine, I felt that day,” Hogan said. “As my husband said, I cried from the soles of my feet.” Hogan and another friend, Miles Higgins, are now helping to raise money to bring him home. Friends Myles Higgins and Elizabeth Hogan help Short raise money to renovate his house. (Malone Mullin/CBC) “Right now it’s almost like Jody’s living in a bit of a vacuum,” Higgins said, pointing to provincial rules that prevented Short from qualifying for disability funding until he could report a lower income. “At this point he’s ready to be home.” Short says he won’t be able to work for the foreseeable future as he learns to manage his pain. But eventually he wants to forge a new life, building things with his hands and making websites for charities. “It’s incredible and overwhelming, the amount of support,” Short said. “I think without the support, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to get through it all.” If you can, please donate. https://t.co/eAo9hOE5oy —@myleshiggins Read more from CBC Newfoundland and Labrador
