Shawn P. B. Robinson

This post is a continuation of a series looking back to my experience in 2017 with Encephalitis. For the previous post, click here.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

When I look back on the entire experience, Wednesday morning was, to me, the tipping point. That was the day when everything changed.

My wife and I sat at the table together eating breakfast. Our sons are homeschooled, so both of them were not only home, but were within sight so they could take in the whole show of what was about to transpire.

As we finished up breakfast, I suddenly felt tired. The exhaustion washed over me, and all energy seemed to fade away. It was not like the tiredness at the end of a day when you have worked hard, but it was as if the energy just flushed out of my body in a moment.

My first thought was that I needed to get to the other room and have a nap, but I never made it there. The last thing I said to my wife before losing consciousness was, “I’m fading fast.” I can remember slowly putting my head down toward the table, but I don’t remember reaching it.

For me, the next five minutes were restful and comfortable. I lost consciousness and could simply enjoy the ride. For my wife and sons, however, I think it was somewhat traumatic.

From what I’ve learned about their experience, this is what happened:

My wife came around the table to check on me. She was concerned because I wasn’t responding to her at all. When she tried to put me back into a sitting position, I flopped backward, and she found I wasn’t breathing. She grabbed the phone and called for an ambulance right away, and then my sons stood by and watched as I had a seizure with arms and legs going all out. Eventually, the seizure ended, and I started to breathe again (which I feel were two positives in the situation).

When I began to come to, I remember seeing and hearing things, but I could not make sense of either sight or sound. What I saw actually looked like plaid. It was as if I saw all sorts of color, but could not interpret what I saw. I could also hear voices, but what I heard was not understandable to me.

I can remember thinking to myself, “I don’t understand what’s going on, but it’ll come clear in time. I’ll just wait it out.”

What seemed like a short while later, my sight and hearing cleared, and I saw my wife on the phone. She was also telling my son to prop open the door, and I realized whatever had happened, it was serious enough that an ambulance needed to be involved.

We are only a matter of blocks from the local hospital, so it didn’t take long before two paramedics entered the house. Apparently a third was out shoveling our walkway so they could get me to the ambulance. We live in Canada… it was February… I was sick… so the walkway hadn’t been shoveled.

On the way to the hospital, they tried to do a quick ECG to see if my heart was okay, but they could not get a reading.

At the hospital, I met three doctors. Two of them felt I had not had a seizure, while the third one did. I found out that if you have a seizure, you lose your drivers license, so I was quite upset at the one doctor for pushing the “seizure” position, but in the end, I’m glad she did. I wish I could thank her, but I don’t remember her name, and I’m not sure I’ve seen her since.

One thing she said stood out to me. She announced to the other doctors, “He needs to be on an IV!”

That statement might not sound like anything overly important, but when I was finally diagnosed with encephalitis two days later, I learned that the antivirals I was taking at the time were not enough. The same antiviral needed to be administered through an IV or else it would not work. Somehow that doctor had diagnosed my actual condition with next to no information and stood her ground despite my own reluctance and the opinions of two other doctors.

I am grateful for her.

I am grateful for my wife and sons who jumped into action and didn’t say, “Ahh… he’ll start breathing again. Let’s just go watch some TV and let him figure it all out for himelf.” 🙂

I’m grateful to God for carrying me through and providing great support and care from so many.

To be continued…

To follow the next part of this journey, click here.

Shawn

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