In April 2009, my life took a dramatic and unexpected turn. I was 23 years old, navigating the aftermath of my father’s sudden passing just six months earlier. I had moved back home to New Jersey and was living the dream of working in New York City - a thrilling opportunity that felt like a new chapter in my life.
One rainy April day, I noticed a small itch in my throat. I brushed it off, thinking it was just allergies. Over the next couple of days, the symptoms worsened, progressing to body aches, a fever, and unbearable discomfort. When my temperature spiked above 104°F and I experienced severe leg pain, my mom, who was taking care of me, became alarmed. She tried everything to alleviate my symptoms, but when I attempted to stand, my legs gave out completely. I collapsed to the floor. In that moment, my mom saved my life by dialing 911.
What followed was a whirlwind of chaos in the emergency room. A team of doctors surrounded me, unsure of what was wrong. I was given several IV antibiotic drips to cover all possibilities while they awaited test results. By the next day, the diagnosis was clear: bacterial meningitis and sepsis.
The disease ravaged my body. My left hand stopped working, and I developed purple blotches across my limbs, which turned into deep bacterial burns requiring skin grafts. I couldn’t walk or use my left hand for months. The journey to recovery was grueling. I underwent surgery to repair nerve damage and began intensive physical therapy to relearn how to walk and use my hand.
Meanwhile, I was enduring the most excruciating pain of my life, relying on strong painkillers just to get through each day. With time, support from my family and medical team, and sheer determination, I weaned off the medications and slowly reclaimed my body. But the battle wasn’t over.
As my physical wounds began to heal, the emotional and mental toll of the experience hit me like a wave. My mental health declined drastically, requiring inpatient care. My family’s lives were turned upside down once again. It took years - nearly half a decade - for me to feel whole again.
Meningitis changed me forever. My body bears the scars, and I still feel its physical and emotional echoes. But I don’t share my story for pity - I share it as a testament to resilience and gratitude.
I am one of the lucky ones. I can see, hear, walk, taste, smell, and touch. I am here, alive, and thriving. I believe I survived intact for a purpose: to share my story and advocate for meningitis awareness and prevention.
Bacterial meningitis is dangerous, deadly, and life-changing. But through this experience, I discovered my strength, my purpose, and my voice. My mission now is to ensure no one else endures what I went through. By raising awareness, I hope to eliminate meningitis from this world so that it can no longer cause such profound pain and loss.
This is my story. I survived to share it with you.