My look into the shadow of meningitis

Perhaps better than most, LOUISE TANSEY knows the true extent of how hard meningitis can strike both victim and family. This is her story....

IT is now four years since I scooped 10 GCSEs. Considering what I suffered to sit the exams, I still believe the achievement to be one of my greatest.

In October 1992 my fight began with a constant stream of colds. I was constantly told I had nothing more than 'flu and was sent back to school. I was a ratty nightmare to live with, constantly moody and tired, with painful headaches I had never before suffered.

The odd day off school turned into the odd week. But, as the doctors kept reminding my ever-more anxious parents, it was 'that time of the year and she'll soon get over it.'

One afternoon, after yet another day away from Sharples Secondary, Bolton, my mum returned from work to find me lying delirious on the sofa, not even knowing my own name.

Showing surprisingly few of the typical meningitis symptoms, apart from a burning fever, delirium and irritability, my GP admitted me into hospital immediately. I stayed for four weeks suffering from a severe strain of Tuberculosis Meningitis.

I remember none of this. My only memories come from what my parents have decided to tell me. How much they have have omitted I don't know.

Because of the brain's incapability to cope with trauma, a month of my life is not even a hazy memory. Things before that aren't clear. I vaguely remember my time in Bolton General Hospital; the most outstanding memory was my disbelief when my dad told me my beloved Manchester United had signed Eric Cantona! This period in hospital must go down as one of the most distressing and upsetting time in both my life and that of my family. I really do owe a tremendous amount to the brilliant staff at Bolton General and the immeasurable loving support provided me by my mum and dad, both during the illness and my recovery period.

After the headline-grabbing news stories, sensationalising the sufferers of meningitis, little attention is given to the survivors of this dreadful disease and their long struggle back to health.

People would have you believe you are better and life is back to being a bed of roses.

But the truth really is far from that.

Many, including myself, are faced with a massive uphill struggle to get themselves back to normal.

After my month in hospital I was allowed home. Christmas came and went with little effect; I had to concentrate on getting myself fit enough to return to school to sit my looming GCSEs.

Around February I began to go to the occasional lesson; anything more than an hour would leave me too exhausted. This was gradually extended to half-days and then to two days a week.

The support I received was fantastic. But the frustration I felt couldn't help but take hold.

I was still irritable and tired due to the strong antibiotics I had to take for a year afterwards. I remembered only limited amounts of my school work.

I had to go to physiotherapy and hydrotherapy at least three times each week. Even the menial task of walking was a struggle as the muscles in my legs just didn't want to work. At times crying seemed the only answer.

The fact I passed my exams with flying colours is something to cherish - especially as, at one point, doctors didn't even think I would survive the night, let alone get by with permanent brain damage.

Five years later I am still constantly reminded by my ordeal.

Any story I hear on meningitis sends a cold chill down my spine.

Somehow I have moved on. I became a stronger person as I went on to pass four A level GCEs. I am now on a work placement at The Journal and about to enter my final year of a degree in Journalism and Business Management at the University of Manchester before hopefully stepping on the road to my career in journalism.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.