My name is Gretchen Burnett, & I survived a rare spinal bone infection called Salmonella osteomyelitis. Less than 2% of people with spinal involvement survive it. It nearly took my life, twice.

It started with back pain.

At first, I tried to make sense of it. I live with MS, and I had recently lost my husband, so when the pain began, I questioned everything. Was it MS? Was it grief? Was it stress?

But this pain was different.

It was indescribable. It felt like a monster was inside my spine shredding my muscles & breaking my bones. Pain medication didn’t touch it. Nothing helped. Getting in and out of bed felt like my skeleton was snapping. I later learned that it actually was.

I went to the ER multiple times over the course of a month. My inflammatory markers were extremely elevated at 8.9 when normal is around 0.4, a clear signal that something was very wrong. When I asked about it, I was told the numbers were “just from pain.”

I was sent home. Again and again.

I left feeling unheard, dismissed, and labeled. It was implied that I was drug-seeking. Instead of answers, I carried shame.

All the while, an infection was destroying my spine.

August was unbearable. September calmed slightly. October became terrifying. By mid-October I was bedridden. The spasms came without warning. I couldn’t find patterns. I couldn’t control my body. I lost strength. I lost stability.

In mid-November, my neurologist ordered an MRI.

He listened. He believed me. He saved my life.

The MRI revealed a severe spinal infection with bone damage. I underwent emergency surgery in November. But the pain didn’t subside. It shifted into my hips, into my nerves. I began losing bladder control. I could barely walk.

The infection had disintegrated my vertebrae. My spine was literally crumbling.

In December, I underwent a second surgery. My neurosurgeon rebuilt my spine because my bones were breaking down and compressing my nerves. My infectious disease specialist fought aggressively with last-resort antibiotics. There were moments when my medical team did not think I would survive.

This wasn’t “just a medical issue.” This was trauma.

Surviving something that nearly kills you twice changes you.

Recovery has not just been physical. It has been emotional, psychological, & deeply transformative. I am no longer in the hospital. My PICC line is out. But I am still healing. I still wear a brace. I still use a wound vac. I still live with chronic pain. And I carry the fear of recurrence every single day.

Salmonella osteomyelitis can hide in bone and return months or even years later. That uncertainty is heavy. That hyper-awareness is real. That is medical PTSD territory.

People see survival as a finish line. It isn’t.

Healing is not linear. Some days I am strong. Some days I am exhausted. Some days gratitude and fear coexist in the same breath.

What saved my life was persistence. Listening to my body. Refusing to accept dismissal. And the unwavering support of my loving family.

If I could tell anyone facing a rare disease something, it would be this:

You are not weak for being scared. You are not dramatic for worrying. When your body goes through war, fear is not weakness, it is memory.

Right now, my only job is simple:

Heal. Breathe. Get through today.

Almost dying changes you. But it also reveals a strength you never knew you had.

And I am still here.