I was 13 when I had Meningitis. It is still unknown exactly how I got it, and why out of my entire school and town, I was the only one to suffer from the beast.

And so the story goes...

It was during the days of new school friends and being "more grown up". A time where socialising became a big thing for me, trying to fit in, networking new friendships, and generally exploring what is was like being 13 in my little town on the outside of Leicestershire in the UK.

(Image source: https://www.leicestershirecommunities.org.uk/case-studies1,845590.html)

There was this small youth club on the other side of town which me and my best friend Helen had started going to. A lot of our school "gang" lived near here so it was a great place to hook up after school and enjoy some playtime. There was also some older kids aged 16-17 so it was a good mix of people to get to know. But of course, the older kids were allowed to stay out longer, and some of them didn't seem to have any rules to abide by at all. I was so envious of this. Especially when me and Helen would have to get the 8pm bus back home as this always seemed to be at the peak time of when all the fun was kicking off and a bunch of kids would come out to begin their evening's antics.

So one day, me and Helen along with 4 boys (2 from our class and 2 who were a bit older from different schools but who lived in the area) arranged a night of camping out in this grassy land area next to where our youth club was. We had already constructed a den made of old wood, pallets and plastic drapes. It was the perfect crime. The only difficulty for us younger ones was, how to fool the parents.

Me and Helen conjured up the old trick of a sleep over. Helen told her parents she was staying around my house and I told mine I was staying at hers. We were good kids and usually stuck to the rules so our parents had no reason or even a clue that we would be doing anything out the ordinary.

Around 5pm after school, we took the bus to our youth club and spent a couple of hours hanging out in mass, having a laugh as usual. It was a soggy day, rain on and off, but fairly warm. We spent a lot of time out the back of the club in our den, smoking crafty fags, being loud, playful and teenager-like. Some of the older kids bought some beers and ciders and it became a pretty good party. Getting merrier as the evening went on.

By 9pm we were all pretty wobbley, i remember constantly laughing and missioning about, the boys were always loud and fun to be around. Most the kids had gone home by now but there was 9 of us left, and we decided to get more beers in to prepare for our night of camping. We set off from the den using the back route, a handy short cut which took us along a small nature trail which then bought us out on some side street near the shop.

During the nature trail walk and amidst a lot of laughing a messing about, i tripped over a small rock, which made me stumble off to my right into some long grass and shrubs, and due to the wobbley effects of the alcohol, i lost my balance and landed on my arse. It was the first time I had ever fell over from being mentally wobbly. It was nothing to concern over and I only mention it now because it might hold a clue to my dooms that followed...but then again it might not.
It just stands out in my mind because i found it so funny at the time, as i finally realised how adults fell over when drunk and how there brain must feel and behave in order to cause such a physical outcome. Something that was previously just a concept from observations of movies and the occassional family gatherings.

Anyway, after a successful and funny mooch, we were back at the den, drinking, chatting and playing games such as truth or dare and spin the bottle. I got to snog this lad i fancied, my night was made.

It was getting late

By 11.30pm there was just the 6 of us left, the campers.

However, the 2 boys from school changed there minds. It was raining again, was rather chilly by now. As drunk and merry as things were, the fact is, they both lived just around the corner and I think the calling of a comfy bed in the warm was more welcome than a night sleeping out in a smelly wood and plastic den. So they left. It was just me, Helen, and the 2 older lads from the other school.

We carried on talking into the night, but by 2am we were all feeling tired and getting cold. We had a sleeping bag and some coats so we were alright but I don't think we had accounted for just how cold it can get outside at night. We all squashed up close together, lying in a row hugging each other for warmth. At some point we drifted off into sleep.

Uncomfortable had never rang more true.

It was a sleep full of waking ups. I woke numerous times feeling cold, seeing my breath in the cold night air as i exhaled. Sleeping on wood kept requiring a reposition of body, loud snoring from one of the lads made it hard to get back to sleep. I spent the night drifting in and out of sleep, feeling cold and annoyed. We were effectively stuck here because of our big lie to our parents preventing either of us from being able to go home. Plus the last buses were at 11pm and I really couldn't find the energy or bother to walk back. But come the early sunrise of the morning, I couldn't wait to head home. My head hurt so bad, I was shivery and proper hungover.

We we all awake at the crack of dawn, all of us in similar boats of uncomfyness. We had an hour to wait for the first bus back. I remember happily listening to the others chatting amongst themselves, but i sat in silence battling an intense headache and the wish to feel warm and comfy again. I knew drinking caused hangovers, i wasn't complaining as I also knew it was the price one pays for drinking and partying like we did. But I did start to wonder why I was seemingly feeling worse than the others.

Helen reported feeling groggy with a headache, but then she sat there smoking and laughing with the lads who were also feeling similar to her. I however, felt like smoking would make me sick, even the smell smelt odd this morning. I was far to cold and shivery to think clearly and this headache of mine was making my eyes hurt. Like every bead of light entering into my head was bouncing around my brain causing pains. To laugh meant to vibrate and move muscles, there was no way I could do any of that. Stupid hangover. I don't know how people do this all the time!

The short but very long ride home.

One hour later the buses were running, by now i felt awful. So desperate to go and lie in a bed and wrap up warm. Helen was getting annoyed at my complaining of my ill-feelings arguing she too felt like shit so why couldn't i get on with things like she was.

Crossing the road meant my feet would vibrate and make my head hurt with every step. Standing upright at the bus stop was draining, my knees were weak, my legs hurt, my head felt light and dizzy. I crouched down and leaned against a wall until the most reliving sight yet, the little red bus coming around the corner to pick us up. Fucking YAY!

(Image Source: https://hiveminer.com/Tags/leicestershire%2Cmidlandfox/Timeline)

The bus only took about 12 minutes to get back into town. But today, those were the longest minutes of my life. Every bump in the road hurt. I was getting extremely annoyed every time it stopped to open the doors to let people on or off. The breeze that whooshed in through the doors felt freezing, although it wasn't a particularly cold day, just a cloudy one. Half way along the journey rain was spotting down. My lack of energy and my stupid hangover and achy bones from my stupid camping adventure made this turn into yet another massive deal. I couldn't bear the thought of having to get off the bus then walk for another 15 minutes back home.

The three-stop bus was much needed

By now even Helen was growing concerned about how pale I was looking and she said I should come back with her and her mum will make me a cuppa tea and some toast which will help rid the hangover. She only lived 5 minutes walk away from the bus stop. But as soon as we got off the bus, the movement made my head shreek in pains, the air chilled my bones, my limbs felt bruised and every movement hurt so much. My breathing was fast and i felt sick. As soon as I stepped off the bus I sat straight down on the bench at the stop and held my head in my hands and shut my eyes trying to fight off the pains and prepare for the longest 5 minute walk of my life.

(Image Source: https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=uKClCNEPiKU )

I just couldn't do it. I sat there almost wanting to cry. Helen was getting frustrated as she just wanted to go home, I spent longer sitting in a clutched up ball on the cold bench than it would've taken to walk to hers. In the end, as annoyed as this made her, we caught a 2nd bus from a stop at the end of the road we were on.

We only had 3 stops to go, Helen had to pay as I'd ran out of money. She was annoyed (as you could expect), but still she was caring enough to do so and expressed her concerns about how I was feeling and behaving. She promised me her mum would fix it. The 2nd bus had heating on and felt amazing. So close to being warm and comfy again. I shut my eyes and waited for Helen to ping the bell and guide us home.

The pains of getting off the bus

Once again I had to deal with the trauma and pains of getting off the bus, but with the knowledge that we were so close to being home, and the small comfort I had got from not having to walk there, I gave one last push of effort to walk down Helen's street to her house. Although she lived in the middle of her street which was only about 30 houses down, this proved too much for me to walk in one go.

I remember stopping a couple of times, one of which the dizziness in my head caused me to throw up. Helen pushed me, on we walked. Slowly, painfully, bent over, eyes closed, she had her arm around me by now and bless her little soul she got us through the front door of her house. I went straight into her living room and collapsed in some painful relief.

Good old Helen's mum.

We got the duvets out and some pillows. Helen's mum made us a tea but I was unable to drink it. The thought of moving my arms out of the duvet was too much for my muscles and the just wanted to curl up and stay warm. The TV was on but the noise pained my head and the one thing I couldn't avoid was having to lug my heavy and painful achy muscles and bones to the bathroom to be sick.

That first sick on the street seemed to have opened some trapdoors and the need to vomit wouldn't go away. This behaviour was obviously concerning and it wasn't long before me and Helen just admitted what we got up to the night before. Getting told off for that seemed like nothing compared to how I felt.

Helen's mum was always reasonable and pretty cool about things like this. She knew a telling off was not what we needed right now, we would have our bollocking when we felt well enough. I remember feeling so grateful that an adult was now involved.

(Image Source: http://www.manillenials.com/mountain-climbing-safety-tips-rainy-season/)

After the 2nd time of being sick in the toilet, Helen's mum took control and ordered me to go to bed and get some rest. The climb up the stairs felt like a mission up a mountain. By the time I reached the top, my head was once again light and spinny forcing me to pit stop into the upstairs bathroom to be sick for a 3rd time.

Helen had let me borrow some of her pyjamas, it felt so good to get out of my clothes and into snuggley material. I clambered into her double bed and began the battle against the pains and aches of my body.

Helen's mum brought me some slices of toast and a glass of fresh orange juice. I was far from wanting tor drink let alone eat!, too busy battling against head and body aches and trying my best not to move as the motion was making me feel sick and my muscles were feeling battered and bruised, and i was already sick of being sick. I just wanted sleep. But i tried my best to at least slurp down a swig or two of orange juice. However, within moments of drinking it down, i was forced once again to bring it back up.

This involved having to open my eyes which caused light to burn my brain (or so it felt like), i then had to figure out where on Earth I could draw up energy enough to sit up, stand up, cope with the cold of outside the duvet-land, then hike as quick as possible to the bathroom before (i feared) sick spewing out onto my friends bed or carpets. It was stressful, painful, hard work and draining. After the 2nd time of enduring this process, I just couldn't take it anymore, so Helen's mum brought me up a bowl and put it next to the bed for me.

Stupid Sick

It was around 1pm now, Helen was feeling pretty much back to normal, the rest of the family was bumbling about getting on with their chores around the house, it became clear to us all that something was not quite right with me. It couldn't just be a hangover. Perhaps staying out in the cold and silly conditions had caused me to catch a lurgy.

Being sick so much had made me feel more thirsty, but every quenching swig of juice just resulted in more sick into the bowl within a couple of minutes. I just remember my inner battles of pains, discomfort, throwing up in the bowl a few more times until, through the shivers and sweats and headaches, I fell asleep.

Little did I know just how hard my body was working for me and what dangers lay ahead.

(Image Source: https://themoscowtimes.com/news/bizarre-sleeping-illness-descends-on-village-in-kazakhstan-42738)

To Be Continued....

Read more about #Meningitis -> https://steemit.com/health/@aurackle/meningitis-what-a-meningococcal-that-is-who-what-and-why - by @aurackle