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I sat in disbelief as my mom told me how I basically died.

Seated in the back of her van, in the middle of yet another trip to the doctor's office, I listened to the tale of how narrowly I escaped death from a disease called meningococcal  

meningitis

 .

As a quiet, unassuming Penn State student, my life took a punch in the jaw when I suddenly became deathly ill last October. One Friday, I was feeling fine; the next day, however, I was bordering on death.

I had everything going for me prior to my illness. As a journalism major, I had started my career covering Penn State's men's water polo and boxing for The Daily Collegian, Penn State's student newspaper. Less than a year later, I was following every move of the nationally ranked Nittany Lions football team with opportunities opening up all around me.

The last weekend in October, I traversed a 12-hour road trip to Illinois, where Penn State played the Fighting Illini. On the Saturday morning of the game, I felt dead-dog tired, as if the flu -- times 10 -- had overwhelmed my body.

Throughout the day, my health got worse. At the game, I felt awful. After the game, my condition worsened. On the way back to the hotel room, I remember barely being able to hold my reporter's bag. The weight of a few notebooks and pencils was too much for my depleted body.

That evening, after I found several mysterious purplish marks on my thigh, I decided to seek medical treatment. I went to the Carle Clinic in Illinois, where I was somehow dismissed despite symptoms that included an inability to move my limbs, a temperature of more than 100 degrees, a migraine headache, and those alarming marks. After receiving some intravenous fluid, my head cleared up a little and the hospital discharged me with tests pending for strep throat and mononucleosis. I slept restlessly that night but felt improved in the morning.

So I jumped in the Collegian car and we started home. Two hours into the trip though, my condition was sliding downhill. Midway there, I literally tumbled off the mountain. By the time we pulled into Penn State, I was nearly dead.

I was taken by ambulance to the college hospital, where doctors immediately diagnosed my condition as meningococcal meningitis. My health deteriorated by the second. My girlfriend stood at my side crying, and I couldn't stop screaming. The pain completely commandeered my body as thoughts of dying overwhelmed my mind. I actually begged my doctor to cut off my feet because I thought it would ease the pain.

My family arrived soon after. As my girlfriend and mother stood beside me, I considered telling them goodbye. Death was in the pit of my stomach, and it stayed there. I seriously contemplated telling them I loved them and that I didn't think I would make it. At that moment, I really believed that the end was near, and getting nearer every second.

Eventually I lost consciousness, and didn't awaken again until almost a full week later. I had been flown via emergency helicopter to Hershey Medical Center, a top-notch hospital complex near Harrisburg, PA.I awoke to a destroyed body. My hands were a mess of scabs, soreness, and ruin. My feet were much worse. After two amputation surgeries and a serious wound infection, I was left with six toes and a heap of scarring.

For the next six months, I struggled with the aftermath of the disease. Twice every day, I had to perform an elaborate wrapping and re-wrapping of my feet with bandages. Some days, my feet looked so gruesome I almost vomited. There I was, a 22-year-old, sickened at the sight of his own feet. Those thoughts will forever sadden me. Progress has been slow. The amputations twice put me back in the hospital and have stalled my recovery. Even at the beginning of this past June, I still couldn't walk without pain and a limp.

Why Me?
Perhaps the most difficult aspect of this disease is wondering how it happened to me. I wasn't any different than any typical college student at any college in the world. I didn't do drugs, sleep around, drink extensively, or anything else out of the ordinary. Basically, I was you, and that's why this disease is so terrifying.

I had huge plans for the summer - applying for internships at about 35 different newspapers across the country. I was willing to go anywhere in pursuit of my dream.But my dream was erased during that nightmarish October. I went from the press room to a hospital room, all because of a fairly rare bacterial infection. And one that was probably preventable.

The Stats
Meningitis strikes about four percent of every 100,000 fresh-men dorm residents (that's between 100 and 125 annually), according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), a federal health advisory panel. The disease thrives in college environments, especially dorm rooms, since such close quarters allow it perfect breeding conditions. Meningitis germs can be transmitted through coughing, sneezing, and kissing. I've met a surprising number of college students just in Pennsylvania whose lives have been bulldozed by this disease.

With the proper measures, however, contracting meningitis can be avoided. The recommended vaccines cost between $50 and $100. Take it from me: That amount is a very small price to pay. The government agrees. In fact, the CDC has recommended that colleges and universities across the country to make the meningitis vaccine available to students. Additionally, because antibody levels decline rapidly, the panel also said that students should be revaccinated every three to five years.


Today and Tomorrow
Where I go from here is a mystery to me. I have enormous amounts of scarring on both my feet and hands and I still struggle walking any meaningful distance. Doctors have told me I might never be a completely "normal" person again.

Sitting in that van, hearing how horrible I looked and how critical my condition was, I'll accept my new "abnormal" state. After all, there is a big difference between not living a normal life and not living at all.

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