The Airplane That Gave Me Pneumonia
The Airplane That Gave Me Pneumonia
About ten times throughout my life I've had the misfortune of suffering from Pneumonia. All kinds of Pneumonia: Viral, Bacterial, Mycoplasmic, you name it. The only kind I haven't had is the one that AIDS patients tend to get. Oddds are pretty good I won't be getting that one.
As an infant and again as a toddler it hit me. According to my mother, both times were pretty scary. It is with some relief that I can swear to not recalling either of those two incidents.
When I was 13 I got hit the hardest. Viral Pneumonia, which then expanded to Meningitis and Encephalitis. 105+ degree temperatures, delirium, double-vision (which lasted for months, very scary), and a host of other radically challenging and frightening symptoms. I was hospitalized, missed some months of school, and the entire family was on alert that on any day they could expect the call to attend my funeral.
In my religion one gets buried the day after death. The whole family was on notice.
Needless to say, it was a traumatic time for my entire family. My parents stayed at the hospital on alternating 12 hour shifts. Cards poured in. I was losing my grip on reality pretty quickly, and getting spinal taps and EEGs and all sorts of procedures that could, frankly, scare a healthy 13 year old to death.
Two doctors, a Dr. Orange and a Dr. Reuben, were primarily responsible for saving my life. It then took about three years to fully recover. At first it was a very slow road back.
This was a horrific and incredibly difficult time. I'd always had top test scores and aced tests, finessed my way through school.
After the illness, it was a different story. Reading was difficult. Doing math in my head (a time-honored Landsman tradition!) was impossible. Remembering short term matters and having clarity on issues and topics was like being on an obstacle course.
Worst of all, I knew and remembered that I'd once sailed through these things. And that, for so long during the convalescence and recovery, I might never get those faculties back again. The fear and the idea of these abilities as a loss was overwhelming.
I got horrid marks on my first report card after I'd finally gone back to school. In the household in which I grew up, this was as shameful an event as one could imagine. We were the typical New York Jewish "EDUCATION FIRST" urban family. And I feared I'd become unable, incapable of meeting the expectation.
That was the scariest part. More so than the delirium, the confusion, the double-vision. The loss of brainpower and inability to excel in school was as though losing the self I'd known and felt myself destined to be, expected to be, and, in fact, I wanted to be.
This is who and what we were at that time and place in our lives.
As time went by there was a slow, gradual recovery.
Fast forward to my 20's, 30's and 40's, and a few more bouts with the dreaded Pneumonia virus as it would occur. Apparently my lungs are acutely susceptible to this malady. And one can pick it up in any number of places, and any number of ways. For the scientific minded and just plain curious, here's a chart explaining just that.
In the past ten years I've had a few minor bouts with it, and gotten past those incidents generally unscathed. Modern medicine, x-rays, and bed-rest have done the job.
Then came that trip to Chicago last month. Plane ride in either direction. All that recirculated air.
Within days I was coughing, wheezing, headachy, having trouble breathing, had a little bit of a sore throat, was burning up, ached all over, and was having productive coughs bringing up phlegm the color of rusted oatmeal. By the truckload.
Lost my voice. Kept coughing, wheezing, rasp-rale breathing, and feeling poorly. Was unable to work, much less concentrate on anything. Slept more hours than I can recall in years.
Generally as sick as I can recall being since as far back as 1992 or 1993.
Went to the doctor. Also went through almost 5 boxes of tissues. Drank enough water to turn into a human lake. Took some medicine that tore up my stomach but otherwise did nothing to make me feel better. The first medicine had me awake all night, and sleeping all day. It also had me farting enough to win some sort of flatulence competition.
A few tests, off to the local hospital for a series of chest x-rays. The intake lady was very nice about making sure my insurance would cover the cost.
Then my neck began to hurt. Uh-oh. The big scare. The doctors decided to hospitalize me when I was 13 when my neck got achy. The meninges swelled up, and caused the neck-ache that is a dead give away that the disease is there. Suddenly getting seriously worried about things.
Back to the doctor I went. No, not a case of meningitis, just an aching neck, a part of the overall symptoms. Got put on a different medicine, turned the corner.
And now I wonder what to do, given that I may soon have to fly in and out of Chicago again.
How ill was I? So very ill that I gave up Yankee tickets for the game on the 4th of July, the 6th of July, and also didn't accept any number of invitations to holiday barbeques, get-togethers, etc.
The doctor said to stay the course, ride it out, get bed-rest and do not exert myself. And plenty of fluids.
Did just that.
Looks like I beat it again. Whew!
