A Brush with Death: My Meningitis Survival Story
I don’t think I’ve ever fully grasped how close I came to death. Most people who get meningitis experience symptoms - their bodies warn them they’re sick. I had no idea.
I was living my best life, completely unaware of any danger. No headaches, no exhaustion, no illness at all. I was at a leadership camp, listening to the instructor, when I suddenly began losing strength in my left arm. At first, I thought I’d pinched a nerve and tried to shrug it off. But the numbness kept spreading.
I told my teacher. She thought I might be having a panic attack and guided me through breathing exercises. We stepped outside for fresh air, and she asked me questions to distract me from my arm. But my speech grew slower and more slurred - until, finally, I couldn’t speak at all. Seeing the panic in my eyes, she rushed me to the hospital. On the way to the car, my left leg and the left side of my face began to weaken. There I was, twenty years old, convinced I was having a stroke.
At the hospital, they ran tests, including an MRI which were all normal. Though my speech returned, my arm and leg still felt like limp noodles. Since the hospital lacked a neurologist, I was transferred. The next day, the neurologist ran more tests, all inconclusive. My strength was returning, albeit slowly. She planned to discharge me the following day but ordered one final test.
That night, they sent me to a psychiatrist, believing my symptoms were psychological since nothing physical had been found. It was traumatizing - I won’t go into details, but I was essentially accused of faking a stroke for attention. The next morning, the neurologist returned, ready to discharge me. I asked if she’d seen the latest bloodwork. She checked - something was off. To be safe, she performed a lumbar puncture.
The following day, she walked into my room and said, “Praise the Lord I did that spinal tap. You have bacterial meningitis. You’ll need two weeks of IV antibiotics.” I was speechless. I’d nearly been sent home, clueless that I had a life-threatening infection. I would have died. But I didn’t. I survived.
I assumed after two weeks of antibiotics, I’d be free. But meningitis doesn’t let go so easily. Two months later, I had another seizure. Only then did I realize meningitis isn’t a “one-and-done” illness. Many who survive are left with lasting disabilities. I still have many unanswered questions like why my body didn't give me any signs. But they will have to wait because those tests are not cheap. For now, I have to live with the fear over my head that I will get another seizure.
I’m sharing my story because I refuse to be a victim. My life may never be the same as before meningitis, but I choose to embrace the changes and keep living fully. At twenty years old, my body suddenly failed - arm, speech, face. Doctors found nothing until a spinal tap showed bacterial meningitis. I nearly died from "nothing." Recovery brought seizures and invisible wounds. Healing isn't linear.