September 14, 2003

E.Coli is a bizarre disease that strikes people who are only trying to survive by eating. Many people get simple cases of it, for a few days, or even a week and think about what a bad stomach virus they had.
E.Coli isn’t a stomach bug that comes and goes.
E.Coli is not always simple.
E.Coli can bring death to the innocent.
E.Coli can be prevented.
Some people don’t realize what is going on with what they eat. No one can see this bacteria living amongst our sources of nutrition. Not many people can say where all of their food comes from. Not a lot of awareness has been put in people’s heads about the severity of simple bacteria that can grow to take someone’s life from the inside out.

My name is Kara Ramos. I am12 years old and contracted E.Coli when I was seven. My E.Coli was the worst version: 0157:H7. It quickly evolved in to a bigger problem. When I saw the doctor, I was turned over to a hospital. Now being the seven-year old that I was, I knew hospitals meant shots and blood tests. At the time I thought that nothing could truly compare to the excruciating pain of the beginning of E.Coli.
I was wrong.
My complications evolved along side my agony. I was diagnosed with H.U.S, and my kidneys failed. I had been poked with many needles, and it took all of my strength to simply sit up. I could only look around to see blank white walls glaring at me from all angles, and the pure white of my sheets. This white was so penetrating, so dissolving-that I never forgot it. The only comfort was the occasional call from my friends at school, and my parents being there with me.
At this point I was weak, since my blood count was dropping quickly. It was decided that I would have a blood transfusion. I would awake in the night to see a bag of blood, the liquid of life, hanging beside me. I was moved to a hospital in Westchester that had an experimental drug that might just be able to help me. My parents decided it was worth a try.
My first night at Westchester Medical Center I had a dream. I was in the woods in the back of my house. My dog and my friends were playing with me. Suddenly they all disappeared. I was in a square room with a white ceiling, floor and walls. Suddenly the walls got tighter until-
I awoke with a start to see the nurse coming in, about to give me my morning blood test. Still rigid with fear, I allowed the nurse to take some of my blood for testing.

Soon I was propped up on several pillows. I ate a powder as fine as sand mixed with baby food. I did this for two more days, three times a day. I was soon more active and heading towards the hospital’s playroom. On the second day I received a get-well card from one of my father’s friends. It said on the card that if I put it under my pillow, I would feel better the next day. On the third day of the strange sandy medicine, I felt better. I was able to eat a whole solid meal. The doctors said that I could go home.

I received the information on the experimental drug I took then just this year. It turns out I did get the real medicine and not a placebo. The medicine did not effect enough people to be placed out on the market. After my recovery I returned to my normal life. Years later my mind and my body remember all the pain that I went through. I have flashbacks and I get very nervous whenever my stomach is upset. I am glad I am alive and able to tell my story.
I hope that I can help prevent this horrible experience from inflicting others. They say “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. That is true in my case. I don’t want others to go through what I went through.

(read more victim's stories)