SPEAK
一
Bring it on
One woman's repeated triumph over illness by Rachel Zupek
I opened my eyes, blinded by fluorescent lights. Something in my throat itched, but when I tried to clear it, no noise came out. Slowly, I brought my hand to my mouth and felt a tube feeding into my nostrils, trailing down my throat. I rolled my head to the side and looked at my left arm. It was decorated with an intricate design of dried blood, tubes, wires and IVs. Then everything faded to black.
By the time my parents got to me, I had been seizing for 12 hours. I was unconscious, intubated and hooked up to ventilators. Dried blood matted my vomit-covered hair to my face. Doctors didn't know what was wrong with me. Throughout the week, they ran various tests — MRIs, CAT scans, spinal taps, blood tests. Still, they had no conclusions.
The days that followed are as blurry as that first time I woke up in the hospital. I was in the ICU at Lawrence Memorial Hospital the entire week before Christmas. My memory of that week is mostly contingent on what my family and friends tell me. I have a few of my own vague recollections. I remember waking up and the doctor asking me if I knew where I was. I remember recognizing my best friend Brittany and not my mom. I remember playing a "game" with the doctor, in which he told me three items and I had to repeat them; I could only remember two, a penny and a rose. I remember assuring my then-boyfriend I would be leaving on Christmas Day to visit him in Germany. I don't remember anything else.
I was on the verge of the kind of illness that makes everyone around you think you're not going to make it. Just before finals week freshman year, I was exhausted, coughing and sneezing, and I had a temperature of 102. I went to Watkins, where the doctors gave me an inhaler to "help me breathe." After a weekend spent partying with my out-of-town friends, I did what I could to study for tests, but continued to suffer. On Monday night, I took my first final. That's the last thing I remember.
My friends tell me that on Tuesday, I was acting strangely, walking like a zombie and being rude to everyone. My roommate Emily woke up around 2 a.m. on Wednesday to me grunting and snorting in my sleep. A few minutes later, she heard breaking glass. She looked down from the top bunk to see me, foaming at the mouth, my forehead cut and bleeding, eyes rolled back in my head. She called 911 as I continued to seize and vomit until an ambulance came.
I went home to Iowa on Christmas Eve. I continued to see neurologists and infectious disease doctors. By the end of break, they still didn't know what was wrong with me. Doctors said I couldn't go back to KU until they figured it out, so I spent spring semester taking only two classes at the University of Iowa.
Turns out, I had encephalitis (swelling of the brain) and a mycoplasma blood infection. In other words, my brain swelled because of stress and dehydration, which caused the seizures. At the same time, I had bronchitis and, since it went undiagnosed, the bacteria built up in my blood. Both illnesses were gone as quickly as they came, and I haven't seized since December 16, 2002. I came back to KU at the beginning of sophomore year.
It's an eye-opening experience to look back on an incident and realize you almost died. To be honest, it took me awhile to grasp the seriousness of the illness I suffered. But as soon as I did, I saw things differently — and at first, I didn't see them positively. I pitied myself and wondered what I did to deserve a rare illness that caused me to transfer schools and put my life on hiatus.
Then, when I developed a blood clot near my heart my sophomore year (which resulted in a rib removal and another stay in the ICU) I got pissed. Was karma punishing me for all my wrongdoings? Finally, when I studied abroad last spring in Spain and underwent yet another surgery, all I thought was, if God is going to keep dishing me crap, I'll continue to take it — and I'll cope.
Looking back, I realize I could've milked each situation for all each was worth. But I didn't. Because of my setbacks in school, my work ethic is extremely strong. I've worked my ass off to graduate in four years with two degrees. I've acquired an acute awareness for when something isn't right in my body, and I take care of it.
I don't think I'm better than anyone else who has faced a difficult situation in life; I've just learned how to deal with hardships in my own way. I've changed my mentality about life; I believe that if I've survived everything I have, I'm here for a reason. I refuse to let a few small bumps in the road hold me back from all I want from life. Instead, I say, "Bring it on."
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05.04.2006 JAYPLAY <19