Photo by Victoria Gomez
Fever. Stomach issues. Loss of appetite. Body aches. A slew of symptoms plagued Brandon Yates as he traveled up to his parent’s ranch in Sherman, Texas in November of 2022.
They thought it could be COVID. Or maybe the flu?
Eventually the symptoms became overbearing and his wife, Michele Yates, pushed Brandon to go to the hospital as his fever climbed to 104.
After taking a barrage of tests, there was no answer.
“He’s the kind of guy that never gets sick,” Michele says.
It was December 1 when Brandon went into the hospital.
When he finally “came to,” it was February.
He had been in and out of an induced coma, teetering between life and death for months.
His organs were shutting down and chemotherapy was on the brink of killing him.
During that time, Brandon fought to make use of the fleeting moments of consciousness he had.
Three years prior, Brandon and his business partner Josh Florence co-founded Outside, Texas. The apparel and goods store was made to inspire people to get outside.
The pair started the store with no previous experience in apparel and began selling at the Dallas Farmers Market. In time, Brandon and Florence started a social media account for the business. People would tag the account with pictures of themselves wearing Outside, Texas clothes all around the world.
Brandon handled operations, which meant every password, security question and email was in his possession. When he became sick, Florence had to figure out how to press forward without failing the business and its loyal customers.
While he couldn’t be at the store, when he was awake he would call for his laptop.
“He would be in a half-lucid state, asking about things that were happening at the store,” Michele says.
In early January, Florence recalls getting to FaceTime Brandon during one of his brief spells of consciousness.
“He had his sister Nay Nay and Michelle whiteboarding out how we wanted to distribute holiday bonuses to our employees,” Florence laughs. “And he was laser focused on making sure that I understood exactly the way that he wanted it to be, because it was that important to him.”
By this time, Outside, Texas had become a family affair. Everyone was dialed in and keeping things afloat— Michele and her family, Brandon’s parents and siblings. They joined Brandon in his pursuit to capitalize on his conscious moments, FaceTiming him from the storefront as he directed them to make changes, giving him updates and communicating with the rest of staff.
Brandon doesn’t remember most of those moments.
When Brandon finally became fully conscious, he found that his muscles had atrophied, the beard he had proudly sported since the age of 19 was gone due to chemotherapy, his body was littered with tubes and IVs, and he had lost somewhere around 100 pounds.
“I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t talk,” Brandon says. “I looked in the mirror and I just lost it.”
This new look was accompanied by a nagging hip pain that turned out to be a septic infection in his hip joint, which his doctors surgically removed.
Brandon’s lack of mobility meant he was unable to go outside. The very thing he was inspired to share with others through his brand, he couldn’t quite get for himself.
He found pieces of the outside through the skylights of the hospital corridor. Staff would take their time, slowly wheeling him down the hall on the way to another test or procedure, letting him bask in the sun rays.
“He would just close his eyes and soak it up,” Michele’s sister Renee McCalmont says. “You could tell it just meant so much to him.”
Doctors were finally able to diagnose his illness. Hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis (HLH). The rare disorder, considered to be life threatening, is characterized by dysregulated immune activity that causes inflammation and multi-organ failure.
But the diagnosis didn’t offer much peace. They gave him three weeks left to live.
“It was just all these doctors coming in and you could tell they were doing the best they could, they just didn’t know what to do,” Brandon says.
And then, finally, a breakthrough – an experimental medication named Jakafi. His medical team wavered with uncertainty about whether or not to give it to him. It was new and potentially too strong for Brandon’s withering body.
It was a gamble. One that would take courage, strength and determination. The same things he had when he took a leap of faith and created a business in an industry he had no experience in, but this time the stakes were much higher.
He decided he had to take it.
Photo by Victoria Gomez
Within a week or so, his internal bleeding stopped and so did the attack on his internal organs.
Once he proved to be stable, it was time to learn how to start functioning again.
Everything he did without thinking before became laborsome. Talking, eating, drinking, it wasn’t easy.
But again, things had become a family affair. Brandon never spent a night alone in the hospital. Everyone would take turns being there, even when he wasn’t conscious enough to know they were there.
They did everything they could with him, even watching videos on how to swallow.
By April, he was moved to inpatient rehabilitation. But his body had other plans. A couple weeks into the process, the sepsis in his hip returned and required another surgery.
Returning to rehabilitation after the sepsis removal was a tall order.
“He’s a very determined person,” Michele says. She knew he could do it.
And he certainly did it. He was discharged from physical therapy after being able to take two steps onto a stair.
Brandon returned home April 26, 2023.
In the course of six months, Brandon had undergone multiple hip surgeries, dialysis, chemotherapy, organ failure and physical rehabilitation.
“It’s amazing to see how far he’s come,” Michele says. “It’s actually incredible.”
Still, Brandon was constantly thinking about the shop. How were things running? How could he make it better?
Outside, Texas sits in Lower Greenville, with its circular horizon logo poking out to greet guests just before they enter the store. Immediately to the right is a floor to ceiling mural that has a hawk and coyote in a Texas-sunset-colored canyon. Directly to the left, is a steep set of stairs.
When Brandon came into the shop, now in a wheelchair, he observed them. They would become his next goal. The next thing to overcome. One day he would walk up those stairs. Alone.
By May, Brandon was inching toward normalcy by returning to the farmers market, working at the store and walking up the stairs, all while nursing the remainder of the sepsis in his hip.
He would move around with a concealed drainage bag attached to his hip, draining and cleaning it out daily.
“I hide it because I’m going to keep working,” Brandon says.
While the sepsis complications linger, causing bouts of pain, Brandon’s HLH has completely “gone away.”
“I just keep my head down and grind it out,” Brandon says.
