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‘If you get it, you’re pretty much going to die’

Pembertonian who nearly died from rare hantavirus wants to warn others
hantavirus-survivor
Pemberton’s Lorne Warburton, pictured several years ago with his wife Anna and daughter Mya.

A Pemberton man who counts himself lucky to be alive after contracting a rare virus this winter linked to rodent droppings is sharing his near-death experience in the hopes of keeping others safe.

Lorne Warburton, 54, said he began to feel tired, with body aches and headaches, in mid-March, prior to a planned vacation to Mexico with his wife and kids. Testing negative for COVID, he decided to go on the trip, and said he felt fine until he returned home and his symptoms worsened.

Warburton said he still can’t remember the two days leading up to his admittance to the Pemberton Medical Clinic on March 25.

“I called in sick one of the days. I don’t remember calling in sick. Blackout,” he said. “I was on autopilot doing normal life. Feeding the kids. Daily life.”

On the morning of March 25, Warburton said he woke up short of breath after struggling to sleep the night before. “I woke up and my hands were purple. It took all my energy just to get out of bed and into the bathroom, and that’s when I noticed my face was purple, too. I was struggling to breathe,” he said.

Now understanding the urgency of his condition, Warburton told his wife they needed to go to the clinic immediately. “It took all the strength I had in my life to get to that vehicle, to get to the clinic,” he added.

Once there, Dr. Jim Fuller, a local GP who was covering the ER that day, said he was surprised Warburton was still conscious, given his rapidly deteriorating condition.

“When he came through the door of emergency, his oxygen saturation was 65 per cent, his head was purple, his body was mottled, and he was in severe septic shock,” Fuller said. “One of the strange things for me about the case is that even though his oxygen saturations were so low (anything below 70 per cent is considered life-threatening), he was still conscious and able to carry on a conversation with me.”

Although he didn’t recognize Warburton’s illness at the time—he had contracted the rare hantavirus, caused by exposure to the urine and fecal matter of infected deer mice (and two other wild rodents common in the southern U.S.)—he knew his patient required more care than what the Pemberton clinic could offer. He made a call, and within two hours, an air ambulance had arrived to transport Warburton to Lions Gate Hospital in North Vancouver, a fast response time the doctor believes saved the Pembertonian’s life.

“His oxygen levels were barely compatible with life,” he explained. “Let’s say he’d been on a backcountry trip or in an area where sophisticated medical care wasn’t available, he would have died, for sure.”

But Warburton’s ordeal was far from over. After being intubated and ventilated at the Pemberton clinic, he was transferred to Lions Gate, where, as he later learned, his heart stopped for roughly 11 minutes.

“I pretty much died,” he said.

Fortunately, Warburton’s condition eventually stabilized, and a decision was made to transfer him again, this time to Vancouver General Hospital (VGH), where he could access an ECMO machine, which pumps and oxygenates a patient’s blood outside their body, allowing the heart and lungs to rest. The attending doctor at Lions Gate was apparently so concerned about his condition, she followed the ambulance to VGH in her own vehicle, with extra equipment “in case I didn’t make it,” Warburton said.

Another stroke of luck for Warburton was the fact there was a sepsis specialist among the army of medical professionals who cared for him. Poring over the bloodwork, the specialist recognized the hantavirus, which is typically only recorded in a handful of cases across Canada each year and comes with a 30- to 38-per-cent mortality rate.

“If you get it, you are pretty much lucky if you survive—and I survived,” Warburton said.

In all, Warburton spent about 10 days in the ICU and five days in a recovery ward, and he has worked closely with a physiotherapist since to slowly rebuild his strength. Described by Fuller as a “very, very healthy 54-year-old,” Warburton said, prior to his diagnosis, he could do 150 push-ups in under 10 minutes. Now, he’s lucky to do two at a time.

“If I wasn’t strong as I was, I might not have made it,” he said. “Somebody older or with a weaker immune system might not have.”

Joking he was “the talk of the medical town” because of how uncommon his condition is, Warburton said he has been interviewed by numerous medical professionals about his illness. The best guess is that he contracted the virus while tidying up his attic prior to his family vacation. “We live in Pemberton on five acres, there are mice everywhere, and we have an attic,” he said. “I did some sweeping there for a minute, so I might have aerated the mouse feces.”

Canada’s National Collaborating Centre for Infectious Diseases says the hantavirus’ incubation period is between two to four weeks, and between 14 and 17 days for Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome. The Sin Nombre strain carried by the deer mouse is the most common in Canada, and is typically transmitted through inhaling virus particles from feces, dust or any organic matter infected with the virus. Transmission can also occur through touching or eating food contaminated from urine, droppings or saliva of infected rodents, and direct contact through cutaneous injuries or mucous membranes with the virus. The Public Health Agency of Canada says the key to avoiding the virus is preventing rodent infestations and properly cleaning and disinfecting areas contaminated by rodent droppings. It’s also good practice to wear an N95 or equivalent mask in areas where rodents could be present.

“Be aware of going into confined spaces with no airflow, like a crawlspace, attic, garage or tool shed,” Warburton said. “If you’re moving around there, wear a mask. All it takes is you to breathe that in for a moment from a deer mouse, and if you get it, you’re pretty much going to die.”

As for Warburton, who thanked his wife, Anna, and two daughters, who are five and nine, for all their support, he believes there’s a reason he survived his brush with death, beyond sharing his story with others.

“I’ve said this a lot: ‘Wow, I must have come back for a reason,’ and I think it’s just to be the best person I can be and the best father and husband I can be.”