I really don't remember all that much about what happened to me, but before it did, I can vaguely recall that I felt horrible:  it was the worst I'd felt in a very long time.  I knew I was sick; I had no choice but to go to the nearest hospital emergency room.

I felt feverish, achy, extremely weak.  My head was killing me, and I kept alternating between shaking chills and flushes of heat coursing through my body.  I know sweat was pouring like rain off of me.  I had Bryce (my husband) take me to the hospital; there was no way I could have possibly driven myself there.

After I got to the emergency room, the rest of it became a blur.  It seemed I went to sleep for a very long time.  When I finally awakened, I was stunned to find out that it was nearly a month later.  It was now May.

I was also in terrible, terrible pain. Both of my legs were absolutely killing me.  It felt like someone had grabbed a hold of my calves and was trying to pull them sideways ... or apart.  The pain was nothing short of excruciating.

I was happy to see Bryce looking down at me when I came to.  He looked so tired, so worn out; he suddenly appeared to be very old.  I guess my illness had aged him; I just didn't know all of the horrible details of what happened to me just yet.

I remember I was hooked up to a whole plethora of tubes and wires:  I was wired for sound.  Doctors and nurses kept coming in and checking in on me.  If they told me anything, I really don't recall:  guess my brain was muddled from all the medication that was being pumped into me.

If there is anything else I remember about this time, it was the doctor telling me I'd had bacterial meningitis.  Meningitis.  No wonder I felt so bad:  meningitis was serious news; you didn't dare mess around with it.

Little did I know just how serious my case with this bug really was.

*to be continued.*