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As a child she nearly lost her life to a rare condition. Today, at 26, she is defying the odds

Olivia DeKold was born with a rare disorder that keeps her tethered to tubes. She holds tightly to life’s gifts as if her life depends on it. She believes it does.

CNNSandee LaMotte查看原文 ↗
她小时候曾因一种罕见疾病险些丧命。如今,26岁的她正在创造奇迹。

EDITOR’S NOTE: “Overcoming the Odds” is a series celebrating everyday people who battle extraordinary adversities with honesty, courage and resilience.

Olivia DeKold has been fighting for her life since she was born.

“She would nurse and nurse then just vomit the breastmilk up, volumes of it,” said Olivia’s mother, Sheila Zeidler. “We started solids and she would try to eat, but it was chronic constipation, chronic vomiting.

“She was very thin, but her belly was just so distended,” Sheila said. “We were giving her enemas — eight, nine enemas a day.”

Just before Olivia’s second birthday, doctors finally discovered the cause — digestive failure due to an incurable genetic condition that historically killed 25% of those afflicted, often in childhood.

Surgeons removed her colon, creating three openings in her abdomen to vent waste and ease the swelling and cramps that had overtaken her body. Tubing implanted near her heart now delivered nutrition 12 hours a day for the rest of her life.

That lifeline, however, left her dangerously exposed to pathogens. Olivia nearly died at eight, spent weeks in hospitals battling fevers and infections, and endured a succession of surgeries. She may need one more — a high-risk, multi-organ transplant of her liver and digestive system.

Yet Olivia, now 26, is flourishing. She is happily married and planning a family. She’s travelled throughout the Western United States and spent 10 days exploring London, carrying with her the medical supplies and vigilance needed to stay alive. An avid hiker, backpacker and camper, she has even skied, kayaked and run a 5K — feats which require extraordinary stamina and resolve for someone with her condition.

“She’s a total firecracker. Olivia’s gotten more out of life so far than most people, and that is through pure conscious willpower,” her childhood friend Keta Jeaux told CNN. “She chooses every day how she’s going to live her life.”

That fierce determination is also evident to the doctors who have treated her for years.

“Olivia never gives up. She manages her condition and doesn’t let it define who she is,” said her surgeon, Dr. Paul Wales, surgical director of intestinal rehabilitation at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center in Ohio.

Olivia’s story is one of hope, perseverance and bravery. Yet it echoes the stories of millions of people who battle rare and chronic diseases, unexpected injuries and life-challenging setbacks every day.

Just how does one defy the odds while living with constant adversity?

For Olivia, the answer is simple: “I’ve always been hungry for life. And I have chosen to believe the best-case scenario will happen to me.”

Courtesy Olivia DeKold

Olivia was born with a rare form of digestive failure called intestinal pseudo-obstruction, a disorder in which the digestive tract behaves as if blocked although no physical blockage exists. Instead, the bowel’s muscles and nerves fail to move food, fluids and waste through the body.

“The bowel is low tone and quite flaccid, so it can’t push things through,” Dr. Wales said. “Think of it like a big water balloon, filling with fluid and flipping and flopping and twisting inside the abdomen as it becomes distended — all of which can cause great pain.”

Days after Olivia turned two, surgeons removed her colon and performed an ileostomy to create an exit for waste from her small intestine. A jejunostomy or J-tube was placed in her stomach to deliver fluids and medications, followed by a gastrostomy or G-tube designed to vent excess gas, stomach juices and fluids to ease bloating.

“Olivia’s abdomen is like a cyborg,” said childhood friend Keta Jeaux. “She has tubes crisscrossing from one area to another where she has to hook stuff up to herself. As kids we saw all of that on a regular basis, because she would change out her own tubes and dispose of them, or change out the cotton linings that go in between the tubing and her actual flesh.

“We were just like, ‘Oh, that’s Olivia, that’s Olivia’s stuff. Okay, cool.’ Then she’d be climbing oak trees with her tubes and stuff hanging off of her. She’d drag them through the yard and I’d be following after her doing whatever fun little kid thing we were doing.”

Even at a young age, Olivia was unusually determined, said Keesha McCue, Keta’s mom and a close friend of the family.

“Olivia just had a particular resilience about her,” Keesha said. “She was probably the spunkiest little girl I’ve ever known. She’d go over to a ditch while they were playing and vomit or empty her ileostomy bag and then start playing again.”

Despite the severity of her condition, Olivia considers her childhood normal, similar to friends with no health concerns. The credit, she says, goes to her mom.

“My mom did a really good job of making it not be all about my illness. I remember one time my G-tube got yanked out,” she said. “Mom was like, ‘OK, let’s just pop your tube back in, it’s no big deal.’ She never freaked out about anything.”

Michele Abercrombie/CNN

Looking back, Olivia’s mom doesn’t see it that way.

“I wasn’t some monumental mom,” Sheila said. “Olivia just always had this adventuresome spirit. She loved to climb trees and ride her bike. I wanted her to have that, so we would just put all the pumps and tubes in the bike’s basket.

“She also wanted to take care of her tubes by herself and she was stubborn, which I think has served her well. It was hard for me and my husband, but I often thought, ‘You know, she’s got to do this for the rest of her life.’”

During the original surgery, doctors also threaded a central line into a chamber of Olivia’s heart to deliver total parenteral nutrition, or TPN. The milky-looking mixture of predigested carbohydrates, proteins, fat, minerals and vitamins is fed directly into her bloodstream, bypassing the damaged intestines.

“I hook myself up to a big 10-pound bag of TPN at night and it’s much lighter in the morning,” Olivia said. “I can put it in a purse or backpack for the rest of the day. Most of the tubes are hidden by my clothes — when high waisted jeans became popular it was like the best thing ever.”

While TPN delivers the majority of Olivia’s nutrients, she is still encouraged to eat small amounts. Food supports beneficial gut bacteria and keeps her stomach and other digestives organs from atrophying, her doctor said.

“However, even with little to no food, the digestive system still excretes mucus and fluids and even a bit of stool, all of which can dilate the intestine and cause excessive bloating and pain,” Dr. Wales added.

The same lifesaving treatment that has sustained Olivia for decades, however, takes a deadly toll on her liver.

“I’ve been on TPN for 24 years now, longer than most people make it without going into liver failure,” she said. “I’ve got fatty liver, and my liver elasticity is like that of a 40-year-old alcoholic.

“Ultimately, I’ll need a liver transplant, but I would still be on TPN, which would just kill that liver too,” Olivia added. “So the plan is to get a stomach, liver and small intestine transplant.”

Being on TPN also leaves Olivia vulnerable to kidney disease, bone disease and neurocognitive issues. And because the central line provides a straight shot to her heart, even a small infection can quickly turn into sepsis, an extreme, life-threatening immune system response to bacteria.

“Growing up, anytime I got a fever, we had to drive two hours to the hospital and get blood work to make sure that I wasn’t going septic,” she said. “It was a mandatory 48-hour inpatient stay. Since there are a lot of fevers in childhood, I was definitely in the hospital a lot.

“But once again, my mom did a wonderful job of making the hospital a less scary place,” Olivia said. “We always had something fun to do.”

When Olivia was eight, a sudden episode of excruciating abdominal pain sent her family racing to the hospital.

“I was writhing around, absolutely in horrific agony,” she remembers. “It took about two weeks for the doctors to figure out what it was.”

Watching the little girl suffer during that time was unbearable, said Sheila’s best friend Keesha, who stayed at the hospital with the family.

“Olivia would just scream out, ‘I want to die, I want to die, I want to die,’ over and over,” Keesha said. “The residents would give her the highest doses of pain meds they could without killing her and it still wasn’t enough.”

One night Olivia was in such agony she became comatose. Despite that, on-call surgical residents refused to act, Sheila said.

“This one doctor didn’t want to operate and he was saying all these horrible things about what would happen to her if they did,” she said. “Finally a different resident decided to take her to surgery.”

When surgeons opened her abdomen, they found a portion of Olivia’s small bowel grotesquely distended — about 10 times larger than it should have been, Sheila said.

“The doctor who was giving us all the negativity was there. When he picked up her bowel to inspect it, it burst all over his brand new $200 shoes,” she added.

“We laugh about it now, but I’ll never forget that night,” said Sheila, tearing up. “We thought she was going to die.”

When Olivia was in college, doctors told her that her liver was failing — she would need a multi-organ transplant within five years. Feeling strong and healthy at the time, the news was devastating.

“The statistics on these transplants are very bleak — you’re almost guaranteed to be dead 10 years after your transplant,” she said. “I was 20 and making all these plans for my future and honestly, I just lost it. I spent the next few years in absolute terror of turning 25.”

For the first time in her life, Olivia began to spiral. She dropped to one college class a semester. She used her hard-earned savings to travel to places she feared she might never see. She became jealous of friends who were finishing college, launching careers and moving forward with their lives.

“I did not suffer with grace,” she said. “I allowed my suffering to bring me to despair, which is just so contrary to how I’d been raised and lived my life previously. I just feel so much regret over that, because that’s just not at all who I am.”

As her emotions plummeted, Olivia’s disease flared. She began to feel nauseated after eating even tiny amounts of food. Projectile vomiting followed, along with abdominal cramping and severe bloating.

“It was this insidious increase of pain over time, to the point that it was overwhelming and all-encompassing,” she said. “It was really easy to believe, ‘This is my new normal, this is the way it’s going to be now and forever. There is no hope, right?’”

Bouts of pain became so frequent and unpredictable that Olivia could no longer manage on her own. She moved back in with her parents. Then a fissure opened next to one of the tubes in her stomach.

“It felt like someone stabbed me in the side. That was the final straw,” she said. “I had all these symptoms, and I was so sick of worrying about this transplant looming over me. I decided to find a transplant surgeon and get it over with. I was tired of being afraid.”

Fortunately, the surgeon Olivia found was Dr. Wales. He had recently began using an alternative to an organ transplant in a small subset of patients who are TPN dependent.

“The goal is to create a smaller bowel that is less likely to dilate, flip flop and cause pain,” he said. “I took Olivia’s anaconda of a small intestine and removed 250 centimeters, or about 8 feet, to reduce the length.

He also cut the diameter of the intestine from 10 centimeters, or nearly 4 inches, to 3 centimeters, or 1 inch, leaving less room for gas and fluid to build up.

Finding a way to control symptoms without a transplant is beneficial for patients, he said, because the chance of being alive on TPN in five years is 90%, much higher than survival after a bowel transplant.

“We can’t cure the illness, but we can improve their quality of life, make their symptoms more manageable, and avoid the need for immediate transplant and lifelong immune suppression,” he said.

After the surgery, Olivia’s daily life changed in ways that once seemed impossible. Her debilitating pain was mostly gone. She could eat small amounts again. She finished college. She met her husband-to-be, Cody Cramer, and they began traveling the west together, living for a while in Nevada and Arizona.

“Doctors now say I probably won’t need a transplant until I’m 40,” Olivia said. “And looking back I feel so foolish, going through all the worry and all the stress. I guess it was preparing me to be extremely grateful for life.”

She now shares that hard-won gratitude on her YouTube channel, which is filled with inspiring messages and her love for knitting , a hobby she first took up as a child to pass long hours in the hospital.

“I know how scary it is when you first get diagnosed and you are only told the horror stories,” she tells her audience. “So, if you need it, let me be your example. You can have a severe chronic illness, you can be on TPN, you can be always hooked up to a pump, and you can have tubes in your side, but you can still thrive and live a wonderful life.”

Flourishing, however, doesn’t mean living without pain or struggle. Olivia still has flares of agony, some debilitating, others life-threatening. Less than two weeks before her wedding, an infection in one of her central lines became septic.

“She was in such a bad place I thought we might have to cancel the wedding right up to the day before,” her husband said.

Released on antibiotics, Olivia maintained her poise at the rehearsal dinner and the next-day wedding, although much of it was a blur.

“The morning of the wedding, it just broke my heart,” her mom said. “She was so tired, she hadn’t washed her hair or anything. I’m driving her to the church, and she’s hanging her IV antibiotics from the sun vizor and just keeping it together.

“Later, she’s like, ‘Mom, I don’t remember much of the reception.’ I told her she was brave and beautiful and no one guessed she’d just come from the hospital. And it’s so true — she was smiling and exuded complete grace.”

Today, Olivia holds tightly to life’s gifts as if her life depends on it. In many ways, she believes it does.

“Regardless of how I’m feeling, I’m making a huge effort to be positive, because this is literally the only life I get — and I’m not going to be unhappy with it.”

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