Marie O'Regan's story

My name is Marie, and this is my meningitis story. It happened many years ago, but its impact has stayed with me in ways I didn’t fully understand until recently. I’m sharing it now in the hope that it helps others feel less alone and raises awareness of the lasting effects meningitis can have.
 

The first signs  

When I first became ill in 1999, I had no idea just how serious things were. I was a teacher in a Cork City school, working on a maternity-leave contract. One Monday morning, I arrived feeling a little off – like the start of a flu. By home time, I was exhausted and shivering. I popped into the principal’s office to say I wouldn’t be in the next day, convinced a good night’s sleep would sort me out.

My mum collected me from school, stopping at the chemist on the way home. My sister was sick too, and we even joked about who was worse off. But that night things escalated quickly.  

Rapid deterioration 

At around 9pm, I became violently ill – burning hot one minute, freezing cold the next, drenched in sweat, shaking uncontrollably. A doctor called to the house at around 10pm and said it was a very aggressive flu.

Through the night, I would strip off layers because I was burning, then pile them back on because I was freezing. By 8am the next morning, I was extremely weak. When I went to the bathroom, I vomited over my bed socks. My mum came to help and saw that both my feet were black. She called the doctor immediately. Moments later, a rash was spreading up my leg and arm.  

Everything changed instantly. She contacted the priest, who arrived to give me the Anointing of the Sick and prepare me with the last rites – a moment that now feels both terrifying and surreal in hindsight. Soon, paramedics and my GP were in the room. I knew I was sick, but I didn’t understand how sick. My doctor leaned over me and said, “You’re going to have to fight really, really hard now.”

I was rushed to Cork University Hospital in an ambulance – the flashing lights, the pounding headache, and the surreal experience of the ride made it feel like the world had turned upside down. At the hospital, I was wheeled into the emergency room where doctors and nurses surrounded me, asking my name, my job, where I was from – over and over. I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to close my eyes. When I couldn’t answer correctly, I could see the worry growing on their faces. After that, I remember nothing until I woke in the intensive care unit (ICU). 

Facing the unknown

In ICU, my parents were told that the first 48 hours would determine whether I lived or died, and whether my limbs could be saved. Everyone entering my room wore full protective gear. What I remember most vividly is the hallucinations caused by the strong antibiotics. I saw a line of doctors outside the glass, each with enormous syringes and strange, sinister smiles. In my mind, one by one, they entered and injected me. With each imagined injection, I felt weaker. Inside my head, I screamed for help, screamed to escape, but I was trapped in my own body. The hallucinations lasted ten to twelve hours. There was no one with me that night – no family, nothing familiar – and I thought I was dying.

During this time, I also remember one or two people from the Health Service Executive (HSE – the Irish health service) coming into my room. It felt like they were interrogating me – asking what had happened, who had seen me and what people had witnessed. I was barely conscious, incredibly weak and completely alone. Their questions felt surreal, almost dreamlike, on top of everything else I was enduring. At the time, I could barely respond, but looking back, it shows just how overwhelming those first days were.

When I eventually woke the following day, I was covered in cold sores and unable to eat. My strength had been completely drained.

Over the next few days, I learned that nurses had been assigned to monitor me 24 hours a day. At one point, I woke and saw my parents, uncle and priest outside my room – a sight that now feels like a guardian angel watching over me.  

A few days later, my parents were attending a funeral when they received an urgent call to return to the hospital. The doctors had been checking the feeling in my legs. There was very little sensation. They tested each of my toes with injections to measure pain response – they couldn’t sedate me because they needed accurate feedback. The pain was unbearable. My parents arrived in a panic, but thankfully the doctors decided to wait a couple more days. Slowly, the circulation and sensation improved, and no amputations were needed.

Towards the end of my ICU stay, my sister brought me a newspaper, but a nurse immediately took it away. Later, a friend managed to sneak the same paper into my room in full personal protective equipment (PPE) gear. The front page of the Cork Evening Echo read: “Kids pray for teacher struck by meningitis.”

It was surreal reading about myself from inside the hospital bed where I was still fighting for my life. I asked, “Who is this teacher?” She gently said, “Marie… that person is you.”

My recovery and life after meningitis 

In total, I spent about ten days in hospital – seven or eight of those in ICU. When I was discharged, leaving the hospital felt utterly surreal – stepping out into the world after such an ordeal was overwhelming. I left on a mobility aid. Regaining the ability to walk properly took weeks. The weakness, sickness and exhaustion lingered for months. 

Since my meningitis illness, I have continued to live with several long-term after-effects. I have always had weakness in one leg – the same leg where the rash first appeared during the illness. This weakness has never fully resolved and continues to affect my mobility and confidence. However, I realise how lucky I am not to have the leg amputated and I will never be more grateful for that.  

I have also experienced ongoing gut issues, which I believe may be linked to the high levels of antibiotics that were necessary to save my life at the time. These digestive problems have been persistent and challenging to manage. 

These after-effects are often invisible to others, but they continue to shape my life long after the acute illness ended. 

For years, I tried to put the experience behind me, to forget it ever happened. I threw myself into life, becoming active, sporty, and determined to embrace every moment. But looking back, I see that over the years, signs of meningitis’ lingering effects appeared. People joked I was “a cat with nine lives.” I had a car accident one night, a fall from a cliff while on holiday, and most recently ruptured my Achilles tendon – in the same leg where the rash had first appeared. These incidents forced me to confront the long-term impact of meningitis, which I had spent years ignoring. 

Finding strength through sharing

Now I realise I’m not alone. So many people carry stories like mine, and it’s time for me to stop pretending it didn’t happen. I am excited and honoured to become an Ambassador for Meningitis Research Foundation – to support, inform and encourage anyone affected by this devastating disease. Sharing my experience is my way of giving back and raising awareness, and I hope it helps others feel understood and supported.

I believe that telling my journey can make a real difference. It raises awareness about the seriousness of meningitis and its lasting effects, helping others recognise symptoms early and understand the challenges survivors face. Sharing my experience also provides support and hope to those going through similar situations, showing them they are not alone and that recovery – in whatever form it takes – is possible. 

Additionally, speaking openly about the long-term impacts helps break stigma and fear, encouraging honest conversations about the physical, emotional and psychological effects of the disease. It can inspire others to get involved in awareness campaigns, fundraising, and advocacy. 

For me personally, sharing my story gives meaning to my experience, turning a difficult and life-changing event into a way to educate, connect with and empower others. I am honoured to have the opportunity to contribute in this way as an Ambassador.

One story can change a life. 2,030 could change the world. Share yours today.