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This story is a Text Book of Medicine, you read
this & you will be the best doctor
Way back in 1972, when I was
just 18 years old, I was the epitome of health.
Never got sick, ate the right stuff... and gymnastics
reined supreme. I worked for a major insurance company
and was digging life in general. On February 4, 1972,
the company made it mandatory that ALL employees (over
300 of us) were to report when called
(department-by-department) to a station on the 1st
floor... and get a flu shot. EVERYONE had to get one.
My symptoms began with having the flu. I dragged my
maid-of-honor-self down the aisle the following day in
my sister's wedding. By Monday morning, I was fine...
but throughout the month of February 1972, that same flu
would come and go, come and go. Emergency room visits
proved futile. "Oh, you have the viral flu... and you're
a little anemic. Take a couple of days off work and
rest." The next visit: "You have mononeucliosis." 3rd
time: "The X-ray revealed that you have no brain tumor,
so it has to be mono." And by the 4th visit in
mid-March, my toes were numb... and the left side of my
face was partially paralyzed, "If you'd just tell us
where you were hit in the fight, we might could be able
to help you! If not... here's the name of a
I couldn't handle the flourescent lights in the office
and had to wear my sunglasses. My boss called me
into his office on a Friday and asked to see my arms. He
wanted to know if I was taking drugs! "Christine's gotta
be on drugs..." was the office buzz. By Monday, I was
couch-ridden and my vision was going double. I called
out of work. I did the same thing on Tuesday... and
received a Western Union telegram: "Due to excessive
absenteeism, your employment with the XXXXX Insurance
Companies of America has been terminated.
" And along with the termination went my group health
insurance. I then collapsed over the coffee table and my father
had to carry me to the car and into our family doc's office.
"I cannot diagnose this in my office." he told me, and then
proceeded to call HIS hospital and I heard him say, "I'm sending
a patient via car to Emergency."
Back in 1972, GBS was
rare... and there was NO treatments available at all. None of
the goodies that alleviate progression of the disease. Zilch.
None of the resident doctors could diagnose me... but a
neurosurgeon could and did. He did a lumbar to finalize the
diagnosis... Guillain Barre Syndrome. Intensive care became the
site of my own personal battle ground. Before it was all over in
there, I went totally paralyzed, watched a sweet Italian woman
die looking directly into my eyes while she passed on... and I
swore I wasn't going with her so I missed a trache by the skin
of my teeth by sheer will power that my lungs would be spared.
They were, but barely.
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