The constant antibacterial shots and blood tests were draining me. The doctor told me I would need to meet with several specialists to guide me through my recovery process. “Physical therapy for you will consist of some motor skills tests. Then, we will proceed to your exercises to help you regain your strength and cognitive abilities,” she said. As she spoke, I thought of Snake (Big Boss) again. His physical therapy was nonexistent, but he worked through his phantom pain. I listened patiently as I thought of the nonstop work and action I would require in the upcoming weeks… Recovery. Recovery meant that I was alive, something I was unsure of not too long ago.

Phantom limb pain, also known as phantom pain, is a condition where a person still feels sensations of pain where their missing body part should be. Even after a full recovery from amputation, phantom limb pain still occurs. “Experts believe that phantom limb pain results from a mix-up in nervous system signals, specifically between the spinal cord and brain.” This was similar to my situation, where I felt detached from my ability to function. I was unable to move as easily as I once could. I could not think coherently or speak fluently. My body and mind were a phantom of what they once were.

*****

I woke up and felt a welt of pain forming in my forehead. I then heard a banging on the door from a suitemate and the sound of yelling, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. “Hey, Hassan, are you doing okay?” A friendly but unrecognizable voice of authority beckoned. The kind voice associated with a friend rather than a foe. They wanted me to respond, but I couldn’t describe what I was feeling. They barged in anyway.

“Hey, Hassan, are you okay? Can you come down here for us?” the RA beckoned. “Yeah, sure,” I said. Oblivious to my physical condition, I climbed down the ladder of my dorm bunk bed.

Shortly afterwards, I felt my legs buckle as they braced upon the ladder. I couldn’t make it all the way down. My legs felt incredibly weak, like I hadn’t used them for weeks. I was in bed for a few days, refusing to come outside or stretch my legs, but my legs did not feel so weak until this moment. I slipped off the ladder, but my suitemate and RA jumped into action, saving me before I could hit the ground. They guided me to a nearby chair in my room as I stumbled and realized I couldn’t walk. That's when they realized that I clearly wasn’t okay. “We’re gonna get you some water, okay?” the RA said.

“Okay,” was all I could muster. I was still very confused about the situation.

The RA and my suitemate returned with water, and then the campus police. The room was filled with police officers, and I was now being interrogated. I was confused and anxious, and the police were not helping by surrounding me and throwing questions at me. The policing presence made me question if I had done something terribly wrong or whether something was terribly wrong with me. I remember being asked if I could unlock my phone, only to realize that I couldn’t remember the password. I started panicking and attempting different combinations. Eventually, my phone locked me out for 30 minutes. A police officer asked me if I had indulged in binge drinking or smoking before my situation. That’s when I remembered the college party I went to previously. A wave of guilt washed over me when I thought about what I had done the night of that party. Being only 18 years old, I decided not to tell the enforcers of my underage drinking habits. And while this proved irrelevant, they created a fear that I might have been roofied. “You’re not in trouble if you have been drinking,” the officer said.

Eventually, they sent me to the hospital to figure out what was going on. It was clear that I was in no condition to answer questions properly or to stay in the dorms any longer. Suddenly, I was in a wheelchair and being transported to an ambulance. Everything was happening so fast. The EMT guided me through the situation while also questioning me. He asked if my parents lived out here in Hayward and said that I needed to let them know. I was alone out here, and my parents had no idea this was happening to me. I gave him their phone number, and he contacted my mother. Reality began to hit me when my mom answered in a worried voice. Just as confused as she was, I called out to her:
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I was drinking, and I think I drank too much. I won’t do it ever again. I know I was wrong,” and so I apologized and confessed.

In fact, something convinced me that I had sinned heavily for drinking too much at the party, and now I was dealing with the consequences. This was probably due to lethargy and hallucinations. My mom was surely confused, so the EMT grabbed the phone to explain with more clarity. She was told I had to be transported via wheelchair and that I was either sick or that there might be foul play at work. My parents were scared, but this alone convinced them to drive over to the East Bay to see their son.

When I arrived at the hospital, I went through a variety of physical checkups. It was all very confusing. However, after a certain number of blood tests and physical checkups, they conducted a test that changed everything. They sent me to a vacant room where I lay on a table, and they told me to lift up my shirt. The nurse stood behind me, and I felt a stinging sensation in my spine: a poke. It was fast but slightly irritating. The nurse finished examining whatever he used to stab my spine: “Oh man, you got meningitis, my friend,” the nurse said bluntly. Now this sounds like a weird way to tell someone they have a lethal disease, but this was exactly how he told me. In fact, he even chuckled a bit at the bluntness of his own statement. I remember hearing him improperly: “Gingivitis?” I thought to myself. Is this what he had said? There was no way he had said this, but my mind was so foggy and lost that the meanings of words and pronunciations had become jumbled. There was no way I was here because of a gum disease…

The entire situation changed after the nurse found out what I was dealing with. Suddenly, the procedure felt a lot more routine and I was being dropped through a CT scanner. They took more blood tests and cleaned me up. They supplied me with food, hospital garments, and pain medication as I was going to have to stay a lot longer than I had expected. When I finally came to, as in, mentally capable of processing and understanding things, they defined my condition: bacterial meningitis. A lethal bacterial disease that can kill you, if left untreated.

The treatment they gave me before my proper diagnosis was a trip to the ICU, blood tests, antibacterial treatments, and constant medical attention and care.. I was fed with a vast array of foods and beverages to keep me energized and sustained. Nurses were bouncing in and out of my room to check up on me and make sure I was okay. Doctors would stop by every now and then to debrief me on my situation. My only complaints would be that the food was incredibly bland. Also, on a more personal note, due to my current condition I was physically incapable of taking care of Myself, meaning that the nurses had to do everything for me. To be frank, they wiped my butt clean and made me pee in a cup to prevent mess. They were incredibly kind and bold to do this. As a young and seemingly healthy adult male, I was embarrassed to have to be taken care of.

Hearing that I had bacterial meningitis was interesting and eye-opening. For one, I had felt a weird sensation in my foot before being bedridden. This sensation felt as though my foot had been stung or like my shoe was being pressed against my foot as I walked. It was bad enough that I had begun to limp. I was ignoring this pain back then, but after hearing of my condition, I realized this was a direct symptom of meningitis. Before my foot began to swell, my temperature was incredibly high. In fact, I had hung out with some friends earlier with an incredibly high fever and headache, but it wasn’t strong enough to make me realize how sick I was. In hindsight, it was a stupid idea to hang out with friends knowing I wasn’t feeling the best. However, going out to see my friends might have saved my life because they realized something was wrong with me. My condition got worse. Other friends had complained that they too had a slight fever but no one else was dealing with a major headache like I was. They helped me out with some “natural remedies”, but I decided to send myself home to rest due to the extreme pain I was in. When I came back to my room, I stayed in my bed for several days, not leaving for anything. I had only woken up to throwing up blood or peeing myself. Otherwise, I was falling in and out of consciousness and possibly seizing. I knew that something was wrong with me but I was so dazed and confused that I couldn’t push myself to get help. Hallucinations were a common occurrence. I felt so weak and I had no idea whether this was my mind playing tricks on me or my physical body telling me to relax. This alone scared me as I had begun to realize how helpless and fragile I truly am. Had my RA and suitemate not forced themselves into my room, I would have perished alone in there. The doctor told me that meningitis had been causing most of the symptoms I had been experiencing. Thankfully, I was coherent enough to understand him. He was kind and optimistic. He told me that it was a miracle I’m alive and well. This humbled me quickly, as I took into account how much of a burden I was. I felt immensely grateful that I was alive… The doctor stated, “You’re going to have more blood tests and antibiotic treatments. We need to make sure the infection no longer exists in your body.” I knew this process would be painful. I’ve had a blood test done before, but I had never been given antibiotics. I understood what was to come, but my thoughts raced as I figured out how I would deal with this for several possible weeks.

The best taste in the morning is bacon, and that’s what I smelled as I woke up. There it was in front of me, included with pancakes and eggs. Finally! Some good food. I thanked God and the nurse who brought me the food and began to eat. It was just as good as it looked. I engulfed the plate of bacon, syrup, pancakes, and peppered eggs. I downed the orange juice and burped loudly. At this point, I was alone in the room. I looked at my surroundings, and the thought of jumping out of the hospital bed lingered. I took a deep breath and embraced my surroundings. I looked downward at my left arm, where an IV was attached. I watched as the clear and viscous fluid traveled through the plastic tube. I felt like the people in the hospital beds in the movies and on television. The truth is that I’d never been to the hospital for anything remotely serious. My only image of the hospital experience is of the actors in movies and TV shows where they are sent to the hospital and get hooked up to an IV. I have also witnessed these actors rip their IVs out and escape. I felt like Snake, a mercenary commander and renowned special forces operative, from the game Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain. He wakes up from a nine-year coma with his arm missing, vivid hallucinations, and a near-impossible mission in which he is determined to escape after his hospital is invaded by an American covert intelligence agency called Cipher. This would be impossible for me, however, as I can barely walk…

Anyway, I tried to relax as I thought about what was best to do at this moment. That’s when the nurse came in, “Hello Hassan, how are you feeling?” she said. “I’m good, and you?” I replied with my go-to response. “I’m doing fine, thank you for asking, sweetheart. I’m just getting ready to check your vitals. Then, I’m going to take some blood and give you some antibiotics as well. Is that alright?” she continued. I immediately felt a sinking feeling in my stomach because I knew the pain that was to come. I had become all too familiar with this point. This didn’t stop it from hurting every single time. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?” she said. I nodded instinctively. I felt a poke. Then, another poke. This time with a pull and a suck. I looked over at my arm to see what she was doing to it. The pull and suck was my blood being taken. Then, she pulled out a large needle afterwards. The antibiotic was next. The nurse poked my vein once again. This time, she injected a fluid, the antibiotic, into me. It felt pretty uncomfortable. I had to brace myself, and you could see my fingers clenching as I did. The gushy fluid felt like it was flooding my arm. It was cold and hot at the same time. I felt hot and cold flashes simultaneously, which was the weirdest sensation. I don’t think she recognized the pain I was in. I decided not to tell her, however. “Ok, all done,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said as she left the room. “Okay,” I said.

I was alright. I got through it after all. I knew I could do it. Now we just have to get 15 more shots over the span of two-to-three weeks! Yeah, no, I don’t know if I have it in me. Another one of those shots is going to turn me crazy. “Hello Hassan, how are you?” A doctor in a bright white cloak came in.

The doctor had some choice words. He made sure he was understandable to some degree with what he told me about my condition. “So, as you know, your body has been weakened over time due to the bacterial infection on your meninges, but we will also have to conduct several more tests due to the other possible consequences of this condition. Including neurological exams, physical rehabilitation exams, and hearing and vision tests,” he stated. Basically, everything, including my natural senses and physical condition. This was interesting to hear, as I knew that I couldn’t walk like I used to, but hearing and vision too? There was a lot more to this disease than I thought.

The physical therapist should have warned me of the trial and error I would face physically. From stumbling to the bathroom, or struggling as I throw a big red ball the size of Clifford back and forth between my physical therapist and my dad. There were many activities involved in regaining my physical strength and mental fortitude. I understood that this would take longer than expected. I didn’t realize I would have to practice basic physical exercises every day, however. We take for granted the basic capabilities of a healthy body, such as being able to go to the bathroom when you want or being able to move.

One thing that stands out is that physical therapy is a lot more difficult than it seems, especially when you are physically disabled in some way. My motor function skills had faltered heavily from meningitis, leaving me unable to throw a big red ball in the proper direction. I couldn’t keep up with the physical therapist, and I couldn’t figure out how to move how I used to. But believe me, I could move. I pride myself on being able to move. I can dance. But losing the capability to move and properly process motion makes dancing hard. Suddenly, the one thing that I was very familiar with since birth had been removed from me. Like a piece of my brain had detached itself and refused to cooperate with me.

Memory plays a large role in our normal bodily functions. Imagine a crucial memory in your life being removed. Now imagine trying to get that memory back as hard as you can. It was almost reminiscent of the phantom pain that Snake had felt when he realized he was missing an arm. That might be a reach. Something Snake literally can’t do, but something I always do as a writer.

Eventually, I finished my physical therapy. I was in a rush to get back to living a normal college student life. However, life had different plans for me. I still had severe problems moving around effortlessly. I had a strong slur in my speech. I could barely hear from my left ear anymore. I also had vertigo. Everything that would make a young adult student capable of being, was lost for me. I strived, however. Making it a point to walk all the way to my English class across the campus. This allowed me to relearn fairly quickly how to walk up and down stairs and regain balance within my entire body. I also made it a point to work out at the gym due to the massive weight loss I experienced in the hospital.

Things were truly starting to look up for me at this point. Then, a flu-like virus hit Wuhan, China, called Covid-19 or the coronavirus. My friends and I hadn’t thought much of it, but eventually the “flu-like” virus took over our college experience. We all had to go home because COVID-19 was considered a national emergency. It seemed like a vacation at first, and it was for me…However, I still had to learn how to recover from bacterial meningitis without those college resources that I was using before. I also had a deep and dark fear of COVID-19 because of what bacterial meningitis had done to me. I knew my immune system was damaged, and that I never wanted to experience a high fever again which happened to be a common symptom of Covid-19. This didn’t stop me from eventually getting Covid-19 in my fourth year of college. I had fully recovered by then. Covid-19 sucked, but at least it was not bacterial meningitis.

A creative writer and author with a BA in English with a concentration in creative writing. A recent college graduate, he is trying to find his voice in the world by sharing his stories and life experiences.