Lonny's battle with Valley Fever

The following is a harrowing true story that a member of my chat room shared with me about his journey to recovery from a battle with Valley Fever. I had hoped to have this important story told by a larger media outlet. I wasn't able to do that however, I still felt like Lonny's story should be told so I am posting it here. Please share with anyone that you think would benefit from this story in some way. Thanks to Lonny for allowing me to publish this important cautionary tale here.  This work is protected by copyright. If you would like to use it please contact me at [email protected] Thank you for your support of my blog and this work. 

MY TRIP TO FEVER VALLEY

I woke up on Sunday, November 19th, feeling terrible. My temperature was 100.5 – there was definitely something wrong with me. I had received my flu and Covid boosters about two months earlier. I thought maybe I had contracted a strain of the flu that the shot didn’t cover.
I guessed that, as usual, I would be fine in a couple of days. I had been really pushing myself over the last few years to get as healthy as possible. I had a little belly fat, but my legs looked like a speed skater’s after all the mountain hiking near my home four times a week or more.
I was 57 and a telecommunications engineer. We had recently moved to Southern CA after my daughter got accepted to a college here, and COVID made my job permanently online. I had spent the previous 25 years living in the Dallas suburbs. I had been hiking there for years, but the weather in Southern CA allows me to hike year-round now.

As the day wore on, I already started feeling better. The fever went away. But as night approached, I started feeling low again, mostly because the fever returned. I wrote a quick email to my boss saying I most likely will be out sick Monday.
I went to bed a little early that night due to feeling very tired. I woke up at 2 AM with a terrible headache and was stunned to find that I and the bed were absolutely drenched in sweat. There was so much that it felt like someone had poured a bucket of warm water over me as I slept. Temperature 101.3 - I am sick, no doubt about it. Took some fever reducer, changed my sheets, and tossed and turned the rest of the night.
By the time the sun came up, I was feeling much better. My fever was gone again, but I still had a headache and felt very tired. I decided it was best to go ahead and take the day off and try to sleep.

The next night was a carbon copy of the previous night. But this time after waking up drenched, I was too ill to sleep even a wink. I could not find a comfortable position, no matter how hard I tried. All I could do was wait for morning.
Tuesday morning, the fever broke, and I’m feeling much better yet again. This is starting to get weird. Why are the nights so terrible? As the day wore on, it felt like I wasn’t getting enough air to breathe. I ordered a pulse oximeter for next-day delivery.
Tuesday night, another repeat. I did get a little sleep, but it was starting to get even harder to breathe. I felt weaker by the hour.

Wednesday morning, the fever was gone again. I felt fine, just very tired. The pulse oximeter came in that afternoon. It read 93%, nothing to worry about according to Google. As long as I stay above 92%, I am OK.
​
Wednesday night, another repeat of the previous nights with one major difference: the coughing finally starts. Ok, this is not the flu. The pulse oximeter (from now on I will refer to this as O2) reading drops to an average of 88%. I must have some type of respiratory infection. 
Thursday morning (Thanksgiving), I feel fine yet again. I cook a small Thanksgiving meal for my wife and daughter at around 1 PM. Because it’s a holiday, I know my doctor’s office is closed. I called some local clinics, but they say they would not be able to do anything for me. I remember that my insurance company offers free virtual doctor visits 24/7. I was able to book one for that afternoon! The doctor listens to my symptoms and agrees that I have some sort of lung infection, but the only treatments she can offer are a powerful cough suppressant and antibiotics. We luckily found a pharmacy that was open during the holiday, about a one-hour drive away. My wife was able to pick up the prescriptions late that afternoon.

The cough suppressant worked great - it was Tessalon Perles, aka Benzonatate. I started the antibiotics and hoped for the best.
Thursday night, fever returned; night sweats do not. I was able to finally get some sleep after taking some more fever reducer and cough suppressant.
Friday morning - again, the fever is completely gone, and I just lay in bed and rest, hoping the antibiotics start working soon.
Friday night (24th), the fever returns with a vengeance, determined to make me as miserable as possible. I had the worst night yet. O2 readings drop as low as 85% at times. At this point, I’m starting to become delirious due to the fever and lack of sleep. All I remember is sitting up in various positions, begging for morning and relief to come.
Sure enough, by Saturday morning I’m feeling fine yet again. Regardless, I am ready to get off this merry go-round. I don’t like this ride anymore!

​Since Tuesday or Wednesday, my wife had been trying to get me to just go to the emergency room. I’ve been stubborn, saying I will be fine, but the exhaustion was getting overwhelming. She did some research and found a hospital that had the best reputation in the area. It’s a 25-minute drive, but highly rated with a trauma level 2 emergency center. We knew it would be staffed 24/7 with good doctors.
I crawled into the car, and my daughter drove me to the hospital (it gets dark by 5 here this time of year, and my wife can’t see well at night). I know there is something terribly wrong with me, so I devised a plan to convince the doctors of this fact very quickly. I told her to pull up the emergency drop-off and run in asking for help. Within a couple minutes, two guys show up with a wheelchair and help me into it.

I know what happens next - triage. My fear is they would take one look at me and put me to the back of the line. I had recently gone to the emergency room at a hospital near my home for stitches and ended up waiting 4 or 5 hours. However, after a nurse took my vitals and saw my O2 level, she sent a doctor to me right away. I told him that it drops to 85% sometimes. This gets his attention. He ordered an x-ray of my chest immediately. Within a few minutes, a portable x-ray is positioned in front of me. They tell me to take a deep breath, which sets off another long coughing fit. All of this while I was still in the waiting room with about 70 or 80 other people.

The results are instant; the doctor could see the images right there on the machine. Next thing I know he’s yelling Code Sepsis to everyone in earshot. Is he talking about me? I know I’m sick, but sepsis? That’s serious. He explains that I have double pneumonia and need to be admitted right away. I tell him I will be happy to be admitted and treated by any doctor available. 
I’m quickly given my own room, and an oxygen mask is fitted. My O2 levels go back above 95% after a half hour or so, and I start feeling much better. They also gave me a Tessalon Perle and some fever reducer.

Next thing I know, it’s Sunday morning, the 26th of November. I’ve slept well. At some point overnight they inserted a drip line in my arm and have been giving me fluids and antibiotics all night. They had also drawn blood for testing.

My wife, daughter, and four doctors appear at my bedside. One of the doctors told me that my pneumonia was very severe, and it was good that I came to the hospital when I did.
The mask makes it impossible for me to talk, so I use my hands and head motions to answer their questions. Also, my wife can answer most of the questions for me. No, I do not have COVID. I took two tests at home, both negative. I tell them that I had childhood asthma and a history of frequent bronchitis, but nothing within the last 25 or 30 years.

My wife had stayed up all night searching the internet for my symptoms and recent activities. She tells the doctors she thinks it’s Valley Fever (also called coccidioidomycosis or “cocci”), and here’s why: 1. I went hiking right after some unusually strong Santa Ana winds came through our area (our neighborhood is located right at the bottom of the valley the winds come through). 2. I had been flattening several gopher hills in our backyard over several days a week before I got sick. This soil was unlike anything I had ever seen - dry, crumbly, and dusty. Both of those are a risk factor for this part of the country, according to what she found.

Most of the doctors are skeptical. Healthy people with intact immune systems are not likely to get Valley Fever. We remind them that asthma is also a risk factor. Still, they don’t all agree. Only the pulmonologist agrees with her at this point. They decided to keep me on antibiotics, get more blood tests, and asked me for a sputum sample. I’d been taking cough suppressants, so I was unable to provide one until the next day.

I have very little memory of the next few days, so from this point on, most of what I write here was gleaned in four different ways: 1. from what my wife and daughter told me; 2. from what the doctors and nurses told me; 3. from my memory (completely unreliable because for the next few days, I was delirious); and 4. from the detailed medical report I requested upon discharge from the hospital.

Hospital, Day 2. No improvement. Don’t remember eating or anything for that matter. I must have just slept.

Day 3. I’m getting worse. They fit me with a BiPAP device to force more oxygen into my lungs. I’d been coughing all night, at one point choking on a cough so badly I thought I was going to die. I hit the nurse call button at least five times, but by the time she got there I had cleared my throat and was breathing again. It was very scary. Also, I was catheterized on this day as I could no longer get to the bathroom. 100% do not recommend!
The doctors finally agreed I may have a fungal infection and took me off antibiotics and started the antifungals. They didn’t want to do this at first, as the antifungal drugs have very serious side effects. The results of the Valley Fever test won’t be available for another week or so.

Day 4. Still getting worse. The BiPAP device is unable to keep my O2 levels up. The antifungals are having no effect. My only memory of this day was the pain caused by the tight straps of the BiPAP device on my head.

Day 5. I’m delirious and don’t remember much until the doctors came to tell me that the antifungals are still having no effect, and I must be put in a medical coma and intubated. I realize at this point that my life is in danger. Later, a nurse wakes me up and tells me I need to swallow a feeding tube she is trying to insert into my nose. It felt like folded barbed wire, this I also 100% do not recommend! I eventually get it swallowed, and she told me I did a good job. Then she starts something into my IV that will sedate me for the intubation. I told my wife and daughter everything would be OK; I didn’t tell them how terrified I was. My last thought was, “I may never wake up again.”.

Day 15 (December 10th). For the next several paragraphs, I will need to switch to a “perception” and “reality” mode. I will attempt to keep what I thought was happening separate from what actually happened. It took a long time for all the drugs they used to put me in a coma to finally wear off. The drug that caused most of my mental issues was ketamine.

Perception: I woke up to several nurses surrounding my bed, gently coaxing me out of a deep sleep. The nurses all seemed very happy, almost joyous. Their exuberance quickly put me in a great mood also, that is until I’d realized what’s happened to me. I had been cut in half horizontally right at mid-chest level. While I was cut in half they put plastic valves with lids that flip over to open and close on both my esophagus and trachea. They had put me back together but left my chest open so they could see inside. One nurse kept messing with a large tube that went through my throat which caused one of the lids to flip over repeatedly.  Every time that lid flipped over, I gagged from the sensation. Another nurse was also doing the same with a smaller tube and lid.  They kept messing with these tubes for several minutes. The nurses assured me I was doing a great job, and I kept wondering “what am I doing that’s so great other than not throwing up all over them! Are they happy because I didn’t die when I was cut in half?” Eventually they stopped messing with the tubes and I was allowed to go back to sleep.

Hours later, I woke up in a large basket, propped up by all my belongings that my wife and daughter had brought to the hospital during my stay. The basket was just big enough for me to fit into. It was made of wire mesh, a little larger than a shopping cart. Slightly to my left and about 20 feet away I saw a row of windows, and through those windows I could see nurses working at a long table. Occasionally, one of the nurses would glance at me. None of them came to talk to me. It felt like I was in a dark car garage, but I couldn’t look to the right to confirm this as it hurt too much to turn my head. My neck and left shoulder were very sore. I sat in that basket, extremely uncomfortable, for what felt like 12 hours before finally falling back to sleep.

Reality: I had been woken to be extubated and moved to ICU recovery overnight. They had woken me to reduce the chance of me aspirating vomit during the process. My wife and daughter had been called at 5 AM and were on the way to the hospital to see me. I woke up again to my wife and daughter beaming the largest smiles I had ever seen on their faces. It was so beautiful. I could see that my wife had lost weight. I could not talk; I could not hear; I could not turn my head; I could barely even lift my arms. Every attempt to talk came out as a whispered groan. My wife told me I was going to be fine and that I had been in the coma for 11 days. She tried asking me questions, but it was impossible to answer her in my state. I could only hear a little from my right ear.

I couldn’t lift my arms enough to draw words on the whiteboard a nurse provided. I had so many questions and was extremely frustrated that I could not ask them. I quickly became exhausted from the effort to communicate and fell back to sleep.
Night 15: Perception: I was hanging from a sling high off the floor. It was very uncomfortable, almost painful. I saw a hospital bed about 10 feet away. A nurse walked in; I pointed at the bed and grunted, trying to get her to please put me in that bed. She told me she could not; I had been throwing up into my breathing mask, and it was too dangerous to be in bed at this point. I used every sound I could think of to argue with her, as well as some tears, but she still refused. It seemed like I was in the sling the entire night.

Reality: I was moved from one bed to another; I was only in the sling for a short time. The hospital bed was propped up as high as it could go, and this is why I was so uncomfortable.
Day 16: I was more aware after waking this day. I was still mostly deaf. My wife got close to my right ear and began telling me what had happened over the last 11 days. It took until day 9 of intubation for the antifungals to start working. However, the doctors were unaware of this. They were wanting to perform a tracheostomy to make it easier for them to vacuum the mucus buildup out of my lungs every day. For two days she had insisted that they try to wean me off the ventilator to see what would happen instead of performing the tracheostomy. She would constantly harass every doctor that came into the ICU about this. Her fear was that the longer I was on the ventilator, the less chance I had of survival. Also, if I could breathe on my own, the machine was damaging my lungs. She finally convinced one of the doctors to try it. She was right; soon after turning it off, I started breathing well enough on my own to maintain minimum O2 levels. They left me like that for 6 hours before turning the machine back on. They extubated me early the next morning.

Later that day the feeding tube was removed, but this time they made me pull it out myself. The breathing mask was also removed, and I was fitted with a high-flow nasal cannula instead. This thing blew oxygen into my nostrils at hurricane strength 24/7. Then a nurse handed me a weird device that looked like a clear plastic wand with slits in the tip. It was connected to something behind the bed and had a constant vacuum on it. She showed me how to suck the buildup of mucus out of my mouth and throat before it built up enough to choke me. They had been doing this for me ever since I was extubated because I couldn’t swallow at all, and I barely even remembered. It took all the strength I could muster to work it, but I quickly came to rely on this device to save me from choking to death. As I become stronger, my coughs produced copious amounts of vile tasting mucus that I could easily choke on while lying in bed. I later learned the device is called an oropharyngeal suctioning catheter.

Night 16:

Perception: I woke up completely naked, lying on a table in a dark room at the top of a tower. The three walls I could see to my left, front, and right were full of windows that went almost all the way to the floor. Most of the windows were open, and a cold wind was blowing the sheer curtains so much they were brushing against me sometimes. I could see stars, tall trees, and clouds in the moonlight. I was freezing so I started ripping the curtains off to use them as covers. I eventually got most of them on me, but they were so sheer they provided little warmth. I tried getting up off the table, but I was too weak. I was freezing to death - my breathing getting slower and slower. I was certain I was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Reality: I had been spitting up mucus and bile onto my gown and covers, and this was why I was so cold. I had also ripped my nasal cannula out. The night nurse was alerted by my O2 sensor alarm. She angrily berated me for removing the cannula, then changed my gown and covers. I finally got warm again and fell back to sleep.


​Day 17: I was still not allowed to eat or drink. I still could not talk but was strong enough to text my family to communicate. The days are great as I visit with my family. The day nurses are wonderful. I slept most of the day.

Night 17: Perception: I woke up in a very large, darkened room. There are about seven young children in the room with me. A nurse points at a matrix of long wooden drawers that are inserted into the wall. Each drawer is fitted with a large video screen and a toy rifle connected with cables to the screens. She told us to choose a drawer to get into and that there will be dinosaurs to shoot on the monitors. We are competing against each other. I quickly tired of the game because the wood was very cold, and I wanted to be in a warm bed again. I call the nurse and use hand signals and grunts to try to ask to be put back into a regular bed. The nurse was confused and said, “use your words!” because I was clearly frustrated. I’ve never felt so helpless. After hours of shivering, I eventually fell back to sleep.
Reality: I am still in ICU recovery. The drugs that kept me asleep during intubation were still causing hallucinations.

Day 18: Another great day. I was feeling much better, and my hearing was slowly returning. I still could not do much other than slightly turn my head. I had lost so much muscle mass that I can barely even shift my position in bed. My family stays with me as long as the hospital allows every day.

Night 18: Perception: I was in a darkened room with about five other people. We are told we must save some kids who are trapped in a sunken boat. We are fitted with tiny, very futuristic scuba gear. The water was freezing. I could not make it to the boat and returned defeated. I ripped the scuba gear off my face in frustration.
Reality: I have torn off my nasal cannula and set off the O2 alarm again. The night nurse is again very angry with me and puts it back on, telling me I must keep it inserted (I still think it’s scuba gear at this point, but keep it in anyway). I fell back to sleep.
Day 19: I was moved out of ICU recovery to a regular hospital room. I was finally allowed some ice chips to ease my dry mouth (I had been on an IV drip all this time). At least seven doctors have been assigned to my case. Three of them tell me that I have made tremendous progress with my recovery considering all the complications I have had. I was unaware of most of them, of course, but here is a partial list:

• Bilateral lower leg deep vein thrombosis - blood clots in both calves.
• Pulmonary Embolism: one of the blood clots moved into my lungs.
• Urinary tract infection
• Infection in both eyes
• Severe constipation - my digestive tract had completely shut down.
• Near complete hearing loss – the doctors had no explanation for this.
• Acute Kidney Injury - caused by one or more of the antifungals.
• Lactic acidosis - too much acid in my blood.
• Hypercalcemia - blood calcium levels above normal.
• Anaphylactic rash covering my entire trunk - caused by a bad reaction to the first antifungal medicine they tried. They had to quickly switch to a different antifungal drug.
• Liver damage - caused by one or more of the antifungals.
• Severe hypokalemia - low potassium levels.
• Massive pus-filled blisters on my arms - caused by the antifungals.
• Left shoulder injury - caused by pulled ligaments during the twice-a-day bed repositioning while intubated.
• Left forearm nerve damage - no idea how this one happened, but they did have to restrain me while I was intubated.
• Cholecystitis - gallbladder inflammation - caused by rapid weight loss (I lost more than 30 lbs in less than two weeks). My attending doctors never mentioned this. I found this information in my medical history logs months after leaving the hospital.

Days 20–26: Many doctors checked on me every day. I was slowly weaned off the nasal cannula. I was finally allowed a liquid diet. My first taste of fruit juice was almost orgasmic. I received special lung treatments with a mask that creates a medicine-filled fog that I breathe in for a few minutes three times a day. I slowly regained my hearing and ability to talk.
I was told that after I got released, I would have to go to a physical therapy hospital for another week before I could go home. The nights had been extremely difficult because I slept all day and stared at the walls all night - hospitals are super noisy - I hated nights! Physical therapists had to help me learn to eat again. I slowly transitioned from a liquid diet to soft food, then in my last two days to regular food.

When they helped me out of bed for the first time, I saw myself in the bathroom mirror – who the heck is that frail old man with a full gray beard!? The therapists gave me a long list of exercises to do every chance I got. I was determined not to go another week in yet another hospital and started doing exercises in my bed several times a day. By day 22, I could get out of bed on my own and roam the halls unassisted.

On day 25, another physical therapist came to evaluate me. I was able to do everything she asked, even going to another floor and back using the stairs. I was exhausted afterwards, but she said I passed with flying colors and would not have to go to the PT hospital after all.
One of the doctors came and asked me for permission to write and publish a paper about my case. I agreed and was asked to sign a document giving my permission, even though my name will not be in the paper. I also learned that my case was also being added to a study by scientists at UCLA.

I was told by various doctors that my liver and kidney function have finally returned to normal. Hooray! However, I had a major setback during this time as my potassium levels were dangerously low. They could not release me from the hospital until it was under control. They gave me bag after bag of potassium chloride drips over a 2- or 3-day period, as well as potassium pills the size of my thumb - yes, I did choke on them several times.

On top of that, they could not release me because my insurance company denied the antifungal prescription I would need to take for another 3 to 6 months due to the high cost. It took 2 days for the doctors to overcome this so I could finally leave.
I was finally released from the hospital on December 20th. My family was very excited that I would be home for Christmas.

Days 27 - 45: I slept up to 18 hours a day. Valley fever is very hard to fully cure and causes severe fatigue. I still had pneumonia in both lungs. I only coughed occasionally but rarely coughed up mucus anymore. I progressed from walking 20 minutes a day to an hour by day 45. I was still taking blood thinners to prevent more blood clots.

Day 46: January 9th: I went to see my pulmonologist for a follow-up. After seeing my X-rays, he told me I was doing well. I may be able to get off the blood thinners after just 3 months. I asked him to allow me to go back to work on Monday, the 15th. On the way home, I got my first junk food since getting sick - one slice of pepperoni pizza.

Night 46: 9 PM, I got what I thought was a gas pain in my upper abdomen. I’ve had lactose intolerance for years, but normally pizza doesn’t cause issues. I thought nothing of it and tried to sleep. The pain became too much to bear, so I took 2 max strength pain relievers and was finally able to sleep at around 2:30 AM.

Day 47: I felt fine. No pain. I could eat and walk around like a normal day.

Night 47: Repeat of night 46, except the pain moved a little to the right. I still thought it was gas.

Day 48: Another normal pain-free day.

Night 48: Repeat of night 47, except the pain had moved a little more to the right. I still thought it was gas.

Day 49: Another normal day, but now the pain had moved even further to the right of my abdomen. I started to get a little worried that there may be something wrong with me again.

Night 49: Not too bad; after taking painkillers, I was able to sleep.

Day 50: Saturday, January 13th. The pain was now more intense. I had a late breakfast and took my antifungal and blood thinner medications. Over the next 2 or 3 hours, the pain kept increasing. At this point, it’s obvious that I had something that needed medical attention.
My daughter took me to the hospital again. It’s packed - nearly 100 people waiting to be seen. Upon check-in, I told them the pain was at 8. Three hours later, when they finally called my name, it’s 15 out of 10. I should have lied and said 10 during check-in. It felt like I had been shot in the stomach. I could no longer walk because it was too painful. They put me in a wheelchair and took me to get X-rays. I begged everyone in earshot for pain medicine. They told me they will get them to me as soon as possible. They put me back in the waiting room to wait for blood to be drawn for testing. I’m in absolute agony.

Finally, when someone came to get me for an ultrasound, I told her I was supposed to get my blood drawn so they could give me pain medicine.  Thankfully she agreed and took me to another room. The phlebotomist there inserted an IV and drew several vials of blood that was taking forever; all the while I begged her for pain medications. Finally, at near 10 PM, I got a Percocet and something into my IV. Oh, the wonders of opioids - 100% recommend! The ultrasound tech took me straight from there to her equipment room. Within a few minutes, she identified the problem - my gallbladder was massively swollen.

Before I even got back to the waiting room, a doctor stopped me in the hallway to ask a few questions. I told him I just got out of the hospital a few weeks prior and still have pneumonia and Valley Fever. He admitted me to a hospital room immediately for observation and then put me on IV antibiotics. I slept well due to the pain medications.

Day 51: The nurses did a wonderful job keeping me comfortable, asking about my pain every few hours. My pulmonologist came into my room looking very concerned. He had already spoken to my surgeon that I have yet to meet and explained to me that my gallbladder needs to be removed right away, but because I am on blood thinners and a recent pulmonary embolism, we will have to wait up to three days for it to be safe. I told him that the last one I took was on Saturday morning. He was worried that my gall bladder would burst before I had surgery. I was not allowed to eat or drink until after surgery.

The surgeon who would be removing my gallbladder visited and was also very concerned about the fact that I was taking blood thinners. She would have liked to perform the surgery right away but could not. I was getting very hungry and thirsty but was only allowed a few ice chips. The surgery was scheduled for two days later.
At about 2 PM, I had a massive surge of pain that slowly faded over the next 2 hours. I think that this is when my gallbladder burst.

Day 52: Monday the 15th. The surgeon returned and told me that that morning’s blood tests showed now I had a very serious infection. She moved the surgery to that night. My pulmonologist ordered another CT scan and found that my embolism had finally resolved, and I was cleared for surgery as the blood thinners have done the one thing he was most worried about. They came and got me at about 5 PM. It wasn’t long before they put me to sleep in the operating room. They were able to do the entire operation laparoscopically, so that night I went back to my regular hospital room. My wife and daughter were there waiting for me. The doctors said that everything went well, and I should be able to recover quickly.

Days 53-55: The surgeon came to tell me that yes, my gallbladder did burst, and it was gangrenous. She had to spend extra time cleaning the bile and infection out of my abdomen. Due to this, I was put on even more powerful antibiotics and needed to stay in the hospital a few more days. Most people can leave the hospital a few hours after laparoscopic removal. By late afternoon, I had begun physical therapy yet again.

By the next day, I was feeling much better. I walked the long halls three separate times (it is a massive hospital). They finally allowed me soft food again. On Thursday, I was very sore from all the walking and the surgery. I must have overdone it due to the pain medications blocking all pain. They wouldn’t give me opioids anymore, and I was fine with this. A nurse taught me how to empty and care for the surgery drain. I would have to keep the drain in for about 2 weeks total.

By Thursday afternoon, I was released from the hospital a second time.
I spent the next few weeks recovering. The surgery was much harder on me than I thought it would be, but I was determined to get back to work. After 10 weeks total, on January 29th, I returned to work. Luckily, I work from home, sitting at a computer all day.
I took the antifungals and blood thinners for four more months after leaving the hospital. Some people must take the antifungals for a year or more. The antifungals had some terrible side effects, but the two that affected me the most were fatigue and hair loss.

By four months post-op, I was able to hike almost all my favorite mountain trails again. I have permanent lung damage and will never be the same as before. I still cough a few times a day, but I feel mostly normal. The current research says that though I can never be reinfected with Valley Fever because my immune system finally recognizes it and will fight it. However, there are cocci spores permanently trapped in my lungs that are being suppressed by my immune system. If my immune system ever becomes compromised, I could get it again.

Valley Fever is becoming a growing problem in the Southwest US as global warming worsens. The latest research suggests anyone could get this disease at any time while doing outdoor activities. What seems to matter most is how many spores are unknowingly inhaled. Just this month several people attending an outdoor concert contracted Valley Fever, with at least three being hospitalized. People die from this disease due to misdiagnosis nearly every day, especially if they travel to the Southwest US for vacation, contract it, then go back home. Most doctors in other regions of the US have never even heard of this disease.

​The total bill for my Valley Fever care was $1,860,000! My insurance paid them a negotiated rate of around $437,000. The gallbladder surgery was another $250,000 before insurance. Insurance negotiated that down to around $50,000. I am very fortunate that I have good insurance. These amounts are outrageous and show how badly we need medical billing reform in this country.