NewsNovember 23, 2019
Thankful People — A story of survival: Vivian White finds happiness after a costly illness
Justin White sat cross-legged on the floor of his mother's home in Patterson, Missouri. As he tinkered with the nuts and bolts of an electric wheelchair, his mother, Vivian, told the story of her survival after a sudden illness claimed her legs and fingers...
Rachael Long
Justin White sat cross-legged on the floor of his mother's home in Patterson, Missouri. As he tinkered with the nuts and bolts of an electric wheelchair, his mother, Vivian, told the story of her survival after a sudden illness claimed her legs and fingers.
In 2012, Vivian had recently stepped away from a long career as a production manager for Sodexo. Over the years, she lived in Kansas City; Columbia, Missouri; Chicago; and Cape Girardeau, where she would be married and raise Justin, her only child.
In February 2012, a day after Vivian had finished hosting her boyfriend Bill Brooks' large family, she said she wasn't feeling well.
"My brain was goofy," Vivian said, recalling the way she had interacted with Bill.
On the morning of Feb. 22 Bill went to work -- for the first time since a prostate surgery -- and she lay down for a nap. The next thing Vivian remembers is waking up in the hospital.
With a 106-degree fever, she had been taken by helicopter from Patterson to the emergency room at St. Francis Medical Center where she would spend several weeks, many of those in a comatose state.
On March 9, doctors amputated Vivian's legs below the knee, nine fingers at the second knuckle and part of her thumb.
She had developed disseminated intravascular coagulation (DIC), which the National Heart Lung and Blood Institute defines as "a rare but serious condition that causes abnormal blood clotting throughout the body's blood vessels ... caused by another disease or condition, such as an infection or injury, that makes the body's normal blood clotting process become overactive."
Vivian does not remember much of her time in the hospital, but Justin does.
Unanswered questions
When he got the call something had happened to his mom, Justin was at work. He didn't know the details or that his mother had been air-lifted to the hospital. The sky didn't fall -- he said he was used to his parents going to see the doctor. Then 22 years old, Justin went to the hospital, saw his mother and thought she "just had a bad cold."
"It just seemed like she was sick," Justin remembered. "It didn't seem like she was that sick."
Because the deaths of his grandmother, father and grandfather all happened within a short time of one another, Justin had been prepared emotionally to handle his mother's illness.
"I'm not going to worry about something until it happens," Justin said, noting his tendency to "stay cool" until he knows for certain something is wrong.
A few days after she was hospitalized, Justin said doctors put his mom in a medically-induced coma. It was then Justin learned about the DIC that had caused his mom's hands and feet to turn black, her lips purple.
"We didn't have a light at the end of the tunnel at that point," Justin said.
When the bills began piling up, Justin became his mother's power of attorney to make payments on her behalf. With help from her loved ones, Vivian grasped a sharpie and managed to sign the necessary forms. By that time, her fingers had turned black, and though her body temperature was alarmingly high, her limbs felt like ice.
"I said, 'My hands and feet are so cold they hurt,'" Vivian recalled.
Vivian said her doctors didn't know what caused the DIC, nor did the Mayo Clinic, where blood samples were sent.
Once discharged from the ICU, Vivian was moved to Landmark Hospital of Cape Girardeau. After some time and rehabilitation, she returned home with many unanswered questions.
"I had no clue on what to do next," Vivian said. "I don't even think there were any follow-up doctor visits."
Through a friend, Vivian was connected with a father-son duo who owned Bluff Prosthetics and Orthotics in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. In that regard, Vivian said she "lucked out."
"They're just good people, and they care about who they deal with," Vivian said.
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Not knowing what happened to cause the DIC, the White family doesn't know if it could happen again. It's something Justin said they don't talk about.
In the years following her illness, Vivian would go on to lose Bill, a beloved dog and most of her savings, which had to be used to pay the remaining medical bills.
Despite her overwhelming loss, Vivian is not angry.
She lives with her Yorkshire terrier, Harry, in the home she built with Bill. She maneuvers around with agility and ease. She uses her prosthetics for walking, driving and a regular trip to the grocery store. She spends time with neighbors and friends, makes a hearty beef stew and enjoys the peace that comes with living in the country.
"What can you do about it?" Vivian said, looking back at Justin, who was still trying to breathe life into his mom's wheelchair. "I want to be here for this kiddo and see how he finally turns out; so far, I'm pretty proud."
A few beats later, she added, smiling, "Don't tell him that."
'It's a weird life'
Vivian was widowed in 2011 when her husband -- and Justin's father -- Terry White died. She eventually moved to Patterson, where she lived with Bill, whom she had first met in the 1980s when they were both working in Kansas City. The two were "best friends" and "really in love," as Justin recalls it.
Their home is littered with what Vivian calls "Bill projects" -- home upgrades and artistic endeavors, many still unfinished. The walls of her bathroom are covered floor to ceiling in completed jigsaw puzzles, and the interior of her home features wooden ceilings and walls, slanted for convenience and style.
She has an independent lifestyle, with in-home ramps designed to make every part of her living space accessible. There's a ramp leading into the shower, the kitchen, the porch and an outdoor deck that looks over a creek.
Though she's mastered her own space, Vivian admits she's "very clumsy" without the tips of her fingers.
"Justin, one time, went in the pantry ... and said, 'Why are these cans upside down?' and I'm like, 'You're lucky they're in there at all!'" Vivian said with a grin.
Frustrations happen, as she doesn't have the ability to do simple things the way she once did.
"Like changing the battery on the remote for the TV, it took me like a half an hour just to open the back of it," Vivian said. "And another half an hour to get the stupid batteries out, and I just laughed. What can you do? You know, that's how it is. It's a weird life."
There are times when living alone in Vivian's condition can be scary. She recalled one incident in which her wheelchair got stuck while she was trying to shower. After finding a way to slide down the bathroom ramp and crawl through the hallway into her living room, she managed to pull herself onto another wheelchair. Later, she called her good friend, Richie, who helped fix the chair that had malfunctioned.
Like with everything else that's come her way, Vivian has learned to laugh.
"That's just part of what you have to go through," she said. "You have to think about everything; you learn from your failures."
Looking back at Justin, she smiled.
"Life is good, huh?" Vivian asked her son, who was no closer to fixing the wheelchair.
"Yeah," he replied with a grin, showing the couple of screws held between his teeth.
Vivian has much to be thankful for, including a laundry list of people who have helped her along the way. She's thankful for Bill's decision to have her flown to the hospital by helicopter, for the emergency room staff who acted quickly to help her, for the friends, neighbors and family who provided strength to see her through the toughest times, for the care shown her by Bluff Prosthetics and Orthotics, for the Eaton family who she says have "adopted" her like their own and for the strength she found to keep going after Bill's death.
Justin is most grateful for his mother's optimism.
"I'm thankful that Mom stayed happy through everything and had a positive outlook on everything instead of turning sad," Justin said.
When you boil it down, Vivian's laundry list of thanks comes down to one person: her "personal wheelchair mechanic."
"In the end, I'm thankful I'm alive, and I'm thankful to be a part of Justin's life."
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