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Hello. My name is Stephanie. I had encephalitis when I was four
in 1980. I lived in Corbin, KY. It was awful. The day was February
26, my mother's birthday, when the ordeal began. I had been
sick for a few hours. My brothers were watching me so my Mom
could run to the store while my Dad slept. I had went to the
bathroom and while in there I passed out. They rushed me to
my doctor who gave me a shot of valium because my body was so
stiff but my heart was still beating. Then he told my parents
to take me to the local ER and he would call and tell the ER
they were coming.
They got me to the hospital and that began the longest 3 days of their
lives! At the ER, I was resuscitated many times. They told my
Dad that if I flat lined again they would not be able to resuscitate
me. They continued to resuscitate me another 6 times. Then they
transferred me to Medical Center in Lexington KY.
When the ordeal began, it was an unseasonably warm 76 degrees. Less than
4 hours later, it was 20 degrees and there was a blizzard going.
They couldn't fly me to Lexington, so they had no choice but
to send me in an ambulance. By the time I got to Lexington,
I had been in a coma for about 6 hours. Like many other survivors,
all the tests were negative. A professor from the Medical College
had been checking on some of his students, one of whom was on
my case. When the student told the professor about my case and
that everything was coming back negative, the professor looked
over my chart and asked if I had been tested for Encephalitis.
I hadn't, but was very shortly. The test was POSITIVE.
The doctors began medicating me for the encephalitis on the night of the 2nd day. On the 3rd day, I woke
up and asked my Mommy where my Daddy was and then asked for a hamburger and a chocolate milkshake. My Daddy got to my room about an hour later and
I was sitting up, eating my hamburger and milkshake. He came in and I jumped up for a hug. My parents say that on the 3rd day, you couldn't tell that
I had even been sick. I was allowed to go home the next day.
The doctors told my parents that I would never see my 7th
birthday, and that they should go ahead and make funeral arrangements
for me. After my 7th birthday, the doctors said I'd never
see 12. I had been on Phenobarbital since leaving the hospital.
Around the age of 11, I decided I didn't want to take the
phenobarbital anymore. I chewed up a whole bottle of pills!
Then, spit them out in the bottle. After the trip to the hospital
and getting my stomach pumped to make sure I hadn't swallowed
any of the pills, my parents told the doctor that I wouldn't
be getting anymore of the medicine. I was sent to a therapist
for the "suicide attempt." He said that I was the most well-rounded,
sweet little 12 year old girl that he'd ever met. He then
suggested that I be removed from the medicine. The doctor
who wanted me on the medicine said he'd only agree to it if
a spinal tap showed that the amount of the virus that was
in my system was less than 10%.
The spinal tap was performed and there was NO sign that I had EVER EVEN
HAD encephalitis!!!! The doctor's were so surprised that they
did a 2nd test to confirm the first, and it was the same. If
not for the medical records, they wouldn't have believed that
I had ever had encephalitis. Needless to say, I passed my 12th
birthday. I am now 28 1/2 years old. The only residual effects
from the encephalitis is memory impairment and occasional migraine-like
headaches. I have lived 20 years past what the doctors said.
It may not be the best but I sure am loving it!!!!
Sincerely,
Stephanie
Kentucky, U.S.A.
Posted: Dec. 09, 2005
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