In April 2001, I was a freshman at LSU. I went out with friends one evening like any other college kid. Within hours, I was in the ICU at Our Lady of the Lake. My parents were told I would probably die. I spent my 19th birthday in that hospital bed.
I did not live on campus. I did not have a compromised immune system. I was not what anyone would have called high risk. What I had was meningococcal meningitis, a fast-acting bacterial infection that does not care who you are or how careful your family has been.
I survived. Two weeks in the ICU, then a regular floor, then eight months and more than 10 surgeries. I lost both of my legs below my knee. I lost nine of my fingers. My kidneys were injured. I am the lucky outcome. Many of those who get this disease lose much more than I did…