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| Ryan |
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If there is one thing I learned from the events that have taken place over the past couple months, it is that life is very fragile. Close your eyes one day and the next it could be gone. A near death experience is not something everyone will go through in their lifetime but it is something that I experienced three months ago. I am still feeling the repercussions to this date and probably will for the rest of my life. I was stricken in August of 2000 with the rare but severe Coxsackie B4 strain of encephalitis. The disease can strike anyone at any age; when I first took ill I was probably in the best shape of my life. At 6'2, 195 pounds 3.4% body fat, and 22 years of age, I was in peak physical condition. I had never even considered I was susceptible to be stricken with a disease of this nature.
It all started after I finished my last day working at a bungee jump platform on the island of Rhodes in Greece. I had been working for two months and was preparing for my trip back home to Canada and subsequently McMaster University. My Travel mate and friend, Jeff and I were set to leave the next day on our way back to Athens en route home to Toronto. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, compared to other days. The sun was always hot and drained most of the energy out of my body, so I took my usual nap after work. This night however, I woke a couple hours later with a bad headache, a general ill feeling and congestion in my chest. I figured I might as well go see a doctor, since it was only about a block away. By the time I reached the clinic, my legs had begun to lose their coordination and had developed a numb sensation. The doctor checked me over and explained my chest congestion as a mild case of bronchitis, but could not explain the numbness I was experiencing in my limbs. After calling in a second doctor, it was agreed that I should go to the hospital to see about the numbness in my legs.
On my way to the hospital, the question of whether I had spinal meningitis kept popping up in my head, probably because of the extensive awareness programs in Canada. I discarded these thoughts as paranoid worries; in these situations, you often assume the worst and turn out fine. When I arrived at the hospital I was seen immediately by the on-call physician. He said the numbness in my legs was probably the result of tiredness or weakness from my chest infection and I was administrated some antibiotics. Feeling as though a large weight had been lifted off my shoulders, I journeyed back to the apartment where I went to sleep for the night-with the confidence that nothing was seriously wrong with me.
I never awoke the next day. When my friend Jeff found me, I had already slipped into a catatonic state, only 12 hours after feeling the initial symptoms. He realized something was wrong when I refused get up and spoke incoherently. After consulting others, he called an ambulance and I was subsequently driven back to the same hospital that had sent me home 18 hours earlier. The hospital kept me overnight this time, telling Jeff that I would be released the next day and to pick me up tomorrow. The diagnosis was spinal meningitis and I started receiving the medication Acyclovir. They didn't think I would have serious repercussions because they caught the meningitis in its early stages. I was still in a semi-aware state and could still speak, but I currently have no recollection of any occasion following the last night I went to sleep in my apartment.
As my condition deteriorated rapidly over the next two days, a CT scan determined that I did not have meningitis. The scan was followed by two spinal taps, and the removal of a large chunk about the size of an apple out of the back of my skull to release the pressure that had built up in my brain. All these operations were performed without anesthetic, because of the risk of further swelling in my brain. The pain was so excruciating that four doctors could not hold me down, and the screams were so chilling that Jeff fainted and awoke in a hospital bed beside me. Everything the doctors tried was to no avail. I had now slipped into a fully comatose state. The next morning, the doctors told Jeff that I would probably not live through the day; my temperature was running at 114 degrees and my organs were starting to fail. After contacting my father, a joint decision was made to airlift me on the next military aircraft to a hospital with the facilities necessary to run further tests. The doctors had not yet determined what was wrong.
I was subsequently airlifted to Athens, but on the plane I experienced a grand mal seizure and heart failure. The doctors on board were able to keep me alive long enough to reach the nearest hospital. Again, fate being on my side, the doctor at the hospital in Athens, after conferring with the doctor in Rhodes, was able to determine within a matter of minutes that I had encephalitis and that the hospital did not have the facilities to deal with my case. This I understand was an incredible feat of itself as there is currently no test for encephalitis. On I went to my third hospital in less than an hour. At this point I had my second grand mal seizure and all of my organs were failing. I was unaware of anything at this point.
Things had taken a turn for the worse; the doctors prepared my father and Jeff for my probable death in the next couple days. I spent the next six days shifting in and out of clinical death. On the seventh day however, my fever subsided and I briefly came out of coma, but my lungs collapsed and I had to have an emergency tracheotomy. I then slipped back into a coma for another 21 days, partially due to complications from the pneumonia I caught in the hospital. The time was especially difficult for my father and Jeff who were only allowed to see me for two minutes a day, behind full face masks and coverings. This protection was necessary because I had no immune system and was susceptible to getting further complications.
When I awoke from my coma in the middle of September, I was still on heavy medication and still had machines working every organ in my body. I had no feeling below my waist. I could not talk and I could no longer see. The only human functions I could do were laugh, cry, and listen. I was not crying in sorrow for what had happened to me but I would constantly cry when I realized the outpouring of emotions I was receiving from friends, family and even casual acquaintances from back in Canada and all over the world. It was probably the most overwhelming feeling I had ever experienced in my life and the first time in my life that I felt truly loved. I realized how important I was in people's lives and it made me happier than any other experience in my life.
Recovery was initially slow and extremely frustrating at times, but I never became bitter or upset that I had been sick. If anything I was more determined to get back to the person I was before, for myself and for the people who believed in me when I was sick. Doctors could not explain the total absence of cognitive and motor damage that is common in patients who have been in extensive coma. I went through intense physiotherapy and eventually regained movement in my legs, but I had lost so much weight that my legs were as thin as the bone. I looked very similar to an Auschwitz prisoner. I had lost 75 pounds of muscle, from places that I didn't even know were controlled by muscle, such as my eyes, my mouth, and my fingers.
The loss of muscle wasn't the main problem that inhibited me from functioning normally. I had lost massive amounts of neuro-connectivity in my body. This is a common result of encephalitis. The disease wiped out any memory of movements, from sitting up, to standing or walking. For many weeks after, it was like I was two years old again. I relearned to walk with swaggering shaky steps. This was especially difficult because I had the memory of walking but my muscles, even though strong enough to now support my body and to walk, had lost total functionality of movement.
I am now a firm believer that coma patients are able to hear people talk, and fully understand them. Although my perception was extremely altered when I awoke, I knew that I had been sick for a long time and I was in Athens. The next few days were coupled with hallucinations more real than I have ever experienced in my life, and it was difficult to hold on to sanity at times. I can't even begin to fathom the situation my family and close friends went through, especially my father who stayed two months in Greece attempting to help in any way he could, and my mother who was unable to fly to Greece, for her own medical reasons. I really didn't experience the disease at first hand like the people close to me did. If I had died while in a coma, I would have no memories of sickness or discomfort. I survived because of the people who believed in me, and the expert medical attention I received in Greece.
The most common question I receive from people is "how has this changed you?" It is probably the most difficult question to answer. I can't even begin to describe the profound effect this experience has had on every single aspect of my life, from the way I see people to the way I associate tastes and sensations. Everything I knew and could associate with my identity has changed. I've lost any concept of what it was like to be me. It's as though someone hit a reset button and restarted my life; I find myself experiencing everything again like it were new, yet with the distant knowledge of already having experienced these situations. The only way I can even begin to describe the way this event has changed me is too conceptually take the idea of being mentally and physically reborn, with totally new reactions to every situation-with the memory of how you reacted before, but not being able to do so.
There are many documented stories and movies about near-death experiences and how they have changed people. I could never really appreciate those stories until now, and I realize that unless I went through what I did, I would never have been able to do so. This event has taught me more about myself than anything I could have dreamt.
Though being stricken by encephalitis may appear to be a purely devastating event, there have been positive aspects. But it took even myself a long to realize them. The events brought me closer to my family and friends and made me realize whom I should put first in my life. It made me see without any effort on my part who mattered and why they mattered in my life. I used to spend a lot of my time trying to impress as many people as I could, I now realize that this was a fault in my character. I have now come to the realization that I feel truly satisfied when I impress the people that care about me and the people that I care about.
It has also, in the most non-clichéd way, given me the ability to appreciate the smaller things in life. Things I took for granted before now bring me the largest uplift of emotions. Another person smiling genuinely, my family gathering for dinner, throwing a baseball-these make everything I went through seem worth it. Even if I never gain back some of the things back that I valued in my previous life, I have gained so much more, and honestly think I am a better person for it.
The most difficult part about recovering from encephalitis has been dealing with the way people now look at and treat me. My close friends and family treat me as they did before and look at me as a stronger person in some respects. Most people however treat me as weak and fragile-as if I am somehow less of a person. It is understandable that people react this way, but it is nevertheless difficult when they guard themselves in fear of hurting me. If I could give any advice to people in contact with an individual who has experienced a life-altering event, is to treat them as you did before or as you would treat a person regularly. They are probably already dealing with their own personal changes; it can be overwhelming at times if other people start acting differently.
Since I was discharged from the hospital six weeks ago, I have improved dramatically. At first the doctors said I wouldn't walk for six months and may never regain the abilities that I possessed before. I have gained almost 50 pounds back and have full walking ability. I recently played my first game of basketball (and won). I have met many negative people on my road to recovery. They said I was setting myself up for failure and this could send me spiraling away from recovering. I took the position that even if I did fail, it didn't really matter to me; I wasn't even supposed to be competing anyway. If I didn't attempt to do all the things I am doing now, I would have felt like a failure.
From what everyone has told me, I really shouldn't be here right now, and I am gracious for every day I have since I have awakened. I have learned to never underestimate what you are capable of doing under extreme situations. Life may be fragile, but the human spirit is one of the strongest forces. I have been graced with a second chance and I feel truly blessed with my almost complete recovery. No matter how strong I was, I would have never been able to do it without the spirits and love of others, and for that I am truly thankful.
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Ryan Littzen
Canada
Posted: March 07, 2002 |
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