West Nile (No Mosquito Jokes Please!)

By Deck Reichert

I’m not really sure when I contracted West Nile. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really that

concerned. Mosquito-Schmito was my motto. Over the course of the summer I spent

many evenings outside working in the yard etc. The mosquitoes were thick at times and I

got my share of bites. My family and I went camping in Sterling, and I even paddled my

canoe around the lake near my house. I’m sure we got a few bites there as well (even

with repellant). I try to keep some repellant on the kids, and wash it off before bedtime,

but I am not going to be paranoid over the stuff. What happens when you forget to shut

the water off on the lawn, or you didn’t lock up the shed? I’ll tell you what, I am sure not

going to douse myself with a bunch of bug spray just to go outside and shut the water off.

From what I had heard your chances of actually contracting West Nile (even in Weld

County) were less than 3%. Even if I did somehow catch the stuff, odds were I wouldn’t

even know it. Less than 20% of those infected by the virus develop symptoms, and less

than 1 in 150 develop “serious illness”. Even if I did get sick, it was supposed to be a

“mild illness” (That’s if you call laid-up in bed for a week “MILD”). The illness seemed

to be most serious in people over the age of 60, or for those with weakened immune

systems. So… Odds were it wasn’t going to me… Right? Boy was I wrong.

It all started the day after I pulled an all-nighter at work. I don’t like to work those kinds

of hours, but sometimes things just don’t go your way… Especially when it comes to

computer systems and databases. By the time I got home I had been up for 36 hours.

When I woke up the next morning I had a headache, and my joints and muscles were

painfully stiff. I struggled through work the next day and tried to sleep it off over the

weekend.

The following week I went through all of the classic West Nile symptoms. I had

anything from headache, to joint pain, to muscle aches. My throat was sore, and I had a

rash across my middle. It felt like this stuff was eating me from the inside out. One of

the worst symptoms was the skin sensitivity. My entire body felt like I had done a belly

flop into a cold pool from forty feet up. It even hurt to put my underwear on. I went to

the doctor and he said it was “probably” West Nile and that I would get over it in a week

or so.

Another week went buy and I tried to convince myself that I WAS getting over the stuff.

My coworkers tried to tell me that I had that “mystery virus”. Mystery virus my foot! I

had West Nile… No doubt about it. I still had a headache and I felt really run down.

That weekend was our company picnic. I didn’t really feel like it but I decided to go and

make the best of it. That evening I felt especially tired and my left leg swelled up and

spilled over my sock like some old lady with tight shoes. I figured the virus was on its

“last leg” so to speak and tried to take it easy the rest of the weekend.

The following Monday my headache seemed to be getting worse. By Tuesday I asked

my boss if I could go home and sleep it off. I tried to rest up all day Wednesday. I was

really feeling like junk at this point. My headache was shooting right past migraine status

and pounding it’s way to unbearable. My wife turned on the TV to watch a little news

and the lead story was “Two more people die from West Nile.” Just Great… By 1:30am

I knew I had Meningitis. My neck was stiff and when I bent my head down my spine

hurt all to way down to my tail bone. I really got concerned when my headache got so

bad that half of my face started to hurt and my left arm felt really weak. We called my

wife’s sister to take the kids and got in the car to head for the hospital.

I was sitting in the waiting room of the ER and a young girl was slowly clicking away.

She was trying to get me checked in. At that point my head hurt so bad that I started to

get symptoms like Turret’s syndrome. I was shaking and would periodically shout out.

She started typing much faster when she realized how sick I really was. The doctor came

in and said that they needed to do a spinal tap to confirm the infection. I was very

reluctant to go ahead with it, but he made it sound like they would send me home if I

refused the procedure. I asked the doctor if he was experienced with the procedure. He

said that with all of the West Nile cases coming in he had performed eight in the last

couple of days. I asked what kinds of complications there were and how my spinal fluid

would be replaced etc. Given my current state and the fact that I basically had no fight

left in me I agreed to the procedure.

I curled up into a ball and the doctor cleaned and numbed the area. Well, from what I

could tell the anesthetic was only skin-deep. I could feel that big-ol needle punch

through each layer of tissue. When it finally reached the actual spinal cord it was like

when you whack your funny bone on corner of your desk. The feeling shot through my

back like an electric jolt. I didn’t dare flinch for fear of paralyzing myself. After a few

minutes the doctor came back and said that every thing was clear and there were no

bacteria. For a minute we thought that he was saying that I didn’t have meningitis. What

he was really saying was that I didn’t have bacterial meningitis and that my illness

pointed to a viral infection… most likely West Nile. Since we were coming up on the

weekend the test to verify that it was actually West Nile would take several days. I was

admitted on the spot.

When I got to my room I wanted it to be as dark as possible. I had become

hypersensitive to almost any form of sensory input. I didn’t want any light, sound what

so ever. I had the nurse cover up her computer monitor with a towel, and I had them put

a sign on the door to come in quietly. If a nurse just came barreling in I would literally

jump a foot off of the bed. Even the IV pump drove me crazy. I wanted that thing as far

away as possible, but the nurses kept putting it right back by my head. A couple sets of

flowers came in and the smell instantly seemed to intensify my headache. I sent them

back out for my wife to pickup. Every time there was a shift change these nurses would

come bouncing in and scare the heck out of me trying to deliver my flowers. I would of

course in a polite and cheerful manor tell them to please take them back to the nurses

station…AGAIN!

About all they could do for me was give me pain killers. They didn’t seem to work that

well. I was on some combination of Morphine and Vicodin, along with an antiinflammatory

Vioxx, and some sort of anti-nausea drug Finergin. I was a real mess. The

drugs were sickening. Nothing really stopped the pain in my head. The Morphine and

the Vicodin made me feel more disconnected than anything, and they magnified my

dizziness and nausea. If they gave me that Finergin stuff for the nausea it would

basically just wipe me out… That’s just what the Nurses wanted… to knock me out.

I don’t really know if it was on day two or three of my stay, but I can tell you I really

know what “Purple Haze” is all about. I remember sitting there and my curtains became

a vivid chain of purple paisley gargoyles. I remember thinking Gee I wish I could draw

like that…Maybe I can. It came out of my brain didn’t it? Then the gargoyles started to

morph and move. I closed my eyes to shake it off and the movie kept playing on the back

of my eyelids. Pretty soon the Grim Reaper came busting through this purple cloud of

mist swinging his sickle right at my neck!… Nurse!…BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ!

This big old Hungarian nurse came barreling and said, “You young MALE patients are

the WORST.” Then under her breath it sounded something like “Arrogant, primadona,

so and so.” I wanted to yell at her and say something like “Yea! And I like all my nurses

tall, thin, and beautiful too!” Fortunately, I restrained myself and said “I have a purpose

on this Earth same as you do.” and left it at that. I think the nurses had been gossiping

among themselves. All that they saw on my chart was a headache and the fact that I

didn’t have bacterial meningitis. What did they think? I was there for a vacation! They

were acting on the assumption that I had a mild case of West Nile Fever and that I would

be over it in a couple of days. There opinion was that I had no business being there at all.

So I’m lying on my back with my earplugs in and a towel over my face. I feel like I am

stuck somewhere between the Fires of Hell and La La Land. This lady flips on the lights

and says, “I’m your patient care coordinator. What’s your pain number?” I wasn’t in the

mood for this… In my mind, getting your arm cut off would be a 10, and I’m not dead.

That would be zero. I really didn’t think it was relevant. I guess she didn’t get my logic.

She then proceeded to tell me how my insurance wasn’t going to cover my stay and that I

really should be at home. What the heck is this, a conspiracy or something? I was

beyond ticked at that point. I told her that I would stay there as long as my doctor said it

was necessary and that she had no business coming in here and asking me anything while

I was lying there with a severe migraine and loaded with narcotics. As politely as I

could, I asked her to “Please leave and don’t come back. And, I would like to talk with

your supervisor.” (Not my exact words.)

The next day they realized that my tests had not come back and that I was most likely

very ill. They were a little nicer after that, but just a little. The tests didn’t came back

until Monday. The results were positive for Spinal Meningitis caused by West Nile.

Each time they came into check my vitals my arms got more and more tender. They

would hook me up to this automatic machine that was calibrated for a guy with an arm

the size of a pencil. By the time that thing stopped pumping itself up my veins were

hamburger. I finally told doctor that I wanted my vitals to be checked only twice a day,

and to inform the nurses that they needed to take them manually… Primadona, so and so.

Hey! My arms hurt!

When it came to food I could hardly stand to eat. I figured that I would need my strength

so this was no time to loose weight. I asked for a Gatorade with every meal…Boy did I

get sick of Gatorade. I basically checked everything on the menu and figured I would be

able to fill myself up on something. The best part of the day was when my wife would

bring me up a Pepsi and a candy bar. One day I could gag the steamed broccoli, and the

next day I would choke down the soup. One thing is definitely true… Hospital food

SUCKS.

After a few days of this I thought to my self “I gotta get outta here!” I got the doctor to

switch my meds to something I could take at home. That evening my “favorite nurse”

came rumbling in with about five syringes loaded with the latest knockout potions. I said

to her “Hang on! I’m not taking any of that stuff today. Why don’t you take a look at my

chart on the computer before you go giving me any more of that stuff.” She looked at

my chart and left the room…with the lights ON, of course.

My regular doctor came back in to see me on my fifth day in the hospital. I asked him to

send me home so that I could continue to rest there. Boy was I was glad to get outta that

joint. Even though I still felt like complete crud, I was thankful for my own bed and

some home cooking. I was still wearing my earplugs and kept a towel over my eyes. I

didn’t have the strength to yell for my wife (or should I say newly appointed home health

care provider) so I dug out some old Radio Shack intercoms that I had out in the shed. It

was just like the real thing! I could buzz my wife any time I needed something (which

was at least every couple of hours). I’m sure she LOVED them… though I’m not sure

why the one in the kitchen kept coming unplugged.

I felt like such a great dad. When my kids would get ready for school they would come

by my bed and give me a hug and a kiss. About four-o-clock in the afternoon when they

got off of the bus, there I was lying in bed. “Hi kids” was about all I could muster. I am

used to being very active. This lying around with a king sized headache, feeling like your

going at the world sideways really bites. This may sound somewhat masochistic, but I

might take a broken leg over that stuff. When your head hurts that bad you can’t pick up

a book, or watch TV. You can’t think about your next vacation, or what you want to do

with the garden. You are flat miserable. There are a lot of people out there who know

what a migraine headache feels like, try tying one on for a month or so. NO FUN.

My parents were particularly supportive. They would call a couple of times a week, and

sometimes daily. At first my wife would take all of the calls and let them know how I

was feeling. After a week or so she would come back to my room and patch me in. They

were very motivating. My dad would call up and say things like “Did you hear how

many people are dieing from that stuff?” Then my mother would call up and ask if I

would ever work again. She would say things like “Well, IF you make it, you think

you’ll be able to push a broom at McDonald’s?” My dad called up and told me “Hey I

heard that a guy your age died of that stuff last week.” Then he went on to say “I heard

that a lady lost both of her hands and feet over the stuff.” Gee thanks for the pick-me-up

Mom & Dad. Honey, Maybe you should take my calls for a while longer…

I spent three weeks at home slowly improving day by day. I would start to feel a little bit

better and think I could cut back on the meds. Then I would be totally laid up the next

day because of it. A couple of times I tried to go for a walk and I could just barely make

it down the lane to the mailbox and back. When I went back to work I couldn’t believe

how tired I got by the afternoon. It took me a couple of weeks just to get off of the pills

and start to feel like myself again. It took another couple of weeks before I felt like

attempting any sort of exercise or physical activity. It took a month for a beer to not taste

like Alka-seltzer.

It’s a hell of a price for immunity. I am glad that I was in good shape and that I pulled

through in one piece. I am also thankful that it didn’t turn into encephalitis and mess

with the INSIDE of my brain. I can’t say why I got so sick; it’s probably a combination

of things. I guess it’s better me than someone else who might have been less able to fight

it off. I’ll tell you one thing is for sure… It’s good to be back.