As a child I was healthy and active; the only illnesses to affect me were the usual bouts of colds, flu, chicken pox, and vomiting bugs that everyone invariably suffers. Living in Yorkshire meant that beautiful hikes were only a short drive away, with Mallham cove being a particular favourite of mine. I also partook in swimming, netball, and dance outside of standard sports classes in school, and frequently helped my parents with gardening and housework. By far my favourite activity was drumming, because letting the rhythm flow through what felt like my very soul was endlessly liberating. I played in two bands, and the look of surprise on the audience members’ faces as the tiny girl took her place behind the drum-kit never failed to amuse me.
On Wednesday 5th January 2011, I came home from school tired, aching, and with a prominent headache, but thought nothing of it. Assuming I was coming down with a cold, I went to bed early, and drifted off to sleep completely unaware of how different my life would be when I woke up.
In the morning the headache had worsened, my temperature was rising, and my neck felt stiff and painful. When mum switched the light on to check on me, the dim light of the energy saving bulb felt as intense as a sun burning in front of my face. Mum checked my hands and feet, which were cold, and then placed her hand on my forehead, which was extremely warm. After this I remember very little until the phone rang several hours later; my mum had completed a symptom form on the NHS website, and within minutes of submitting the form, received a phone call from a concerned nurse. I was vaguely aware of my mum speaking on the phone, and then my bedroom door opened, and the phone was pressed to my ear.
“Hello. Can you tell me your name please?” the nurse asked.
“Emma Steer,” I replied.
“And your date of birth?”
After I minute I managed to give the correct response.
“Do you have a headache?”
“Yes, a bad one, it really hurts.”
“Does your neck hurt?”
“Yes, I can’t move my head at all.”
“How is your temperature doing?”
“I’m hot and cold at the same time.”
“Any signs of a rash?”
“Can you pass me back to your mum?”
I muttered something incoherent, and weakly pushed the phone towards mum. A short conversation ensued before she put the phone down.
“It’s viral meningitis,” mum told me, “and you need to take some ibuprofen to control your temperature. You shouldn’t get blood poisoning because it’s viral, but if your temperature continues to rise, they’re taking you to the Intensive Care Unit of Sheffield Children’s Hospital in the air ambulance.”