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.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

When I awoke on Tuesday morning, something different happened. I was growing tired of waking up to a needle in my belly every morning. I know I must seem like I’m complaining a lot, but understand this… it hurt! I don’t know why, but it would hurt enough that I would cry out in pain when they jabbed that jousting lance into the soft cushy layer covering my six pack of abs (I’m sure it’s under there somewhere). I’m not an overly dramatic person with people I don’t know, so it’s not as if I was just playing it up with the nurses. It really hurt.

On Tuesday morning, I had had enough. It just hurt so much! It was time for me to take my stand. That was the moment I would puff out my chest and declare, “no more!” The nurses needed to know I would not tolerate such madness. It was time for my belly to start a new day–a day of non-poky-ness. In my most manly, confident tone (by which I mean “whiny and pleading”), I said to the nurse, “Do I really have to have this needle in the belly?”

She immediately said, “Yes, I’m sorry, you have to have it every day in the belly or in the arm.”

I said, “YOU CAN GET IT IN THE ARM????”

She said, “Sure.”

Shawn was not impressed. Shawn was not happy. Shawn was still respectful, kind and polite, but Shawn was not feeling like being the kind of man Mr. Rogers knew he could be. Shawn’s belly was happier, but Shawn’s emotions were not.

I was nearing the point of being able to go home. I had the PICC line installed, so they could continue to pump medicine in me while I was at home. I was no longer contagious, so they were comfortable letting me leave. I actually felt good.

Just before going into the hospital, I was exercising every day (not just a little… I was quite fit). I had not been in the hospital long, so I was still in great physical shape. If you are used to decent physical activity and then you spend four days sitting in a hospital bed, you get a little antsy. I was kind of going nuts.

What I didn’t realize, however, was the effect the encephalitis was having on my brain. There are a lot of similarities to what I went through and a concussion. Lights, sounds, over-stimulation of activity and interactions are killers for someone with a concussion. It is much the same for me (even two years later). While in my isolation room in the hospital, I dealt with few interactions, little noise, hardly any people or anything. I just sat there and typed on my computer.

I didn’t understand at the time how much my brain needed that lack of interaction and stimulation. I felt good because NOTHING was going on. I felt good and wanted to get home. I didn’t know what was really going on inside my head.

That day they did an MRI on my brain. It turns out they have special terms they use for brains. The scan came back, and my brain ended up being deemed “unremarkable.” Apparently having an “unremarkable brain” is a good thing. You may, however, feel free to interpret “unremarkable” any way you like.

I was nearing the end of my stay in the hospital and looking forward to going home. The plan was to be home by the next day.

To be continued…

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