At the time, I didn’t take in the implications of what was happening. I simply swallowed the ibuprofen and drifted back into a semi-comatose state, broken only by the cold tip of a thermometer being pressed into my armpit. My temperature had decreased, and I did not require hospitalisation. However, meningitis being an infection of the protective layers surrounding the brain, medical attention was advisable, but home visits from GPs were not available, and I was unable to make the short journey to the surgery.
Without a doctor’s note my school did not believe that I had been as ill as I claimed, and I was forced to sit an exam just one week after contracting the illness, and returned to lessons in under two weeks, including sports and dance classes. After much arguing with the school, I was eventually permitted to cut my workload down to the essentials, and dropped dance and sports altogether, but the damage had already been done.
After 6 months I still felt exhausted with minimal exertion, my muscles constantly ached, I was permanently nauseous, and my head felt like The Borrower’s had invaded my skull. I decided it was time to seek help, and went to see a doctor. After reporting all my symptoms and undergoing a small physical examination, I agreed to have blood samples taken, which all came back negative. It was suspected that I had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), previously known as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME).
I was referred to the paediatric out-patients clinic at a local hospital to confirm this suggestion. Following a more thorough investigation, the diagnosis was confirmed, and I was prescribed pain killers and other medicines to treat my symptoms, and I was referred to the physiotherapist.
The physiotherapist was a short, plump woman who was genuinely friendly and reassuring, and over the course of an hour she questioned me about my symptoms, their severity, and which regions of the body were most effected. She also assessed what exercises I was capable of performing, and decided to place me on a course called Graded Exercise Therapy. Every day I was required to do a set number of step-ups and star jumps, and to walk a particular distance, and each week the number of step-ups and star jumps, and the distance I had to walk was increased. It was designed to help me build up my energy and strength gradually, restoring me to a best state of health possible since the meningitis. Since there was, and still is, no cure for CFS, this was my best hope of recovery.