He was strong, sensible and as solid as a rock, in personality as well as looks, yet cautious, shy and reserved. Six years older than me and tall, dark and hunky, Steve was my ideal man. I played back our lives together in my mind we'd met when I was 18. I sat with him for ten minutes and told him I loved him. As I was shown into his room, everything looked grey my beloved husband, the equipment and the walls. Even if he came round and seemed fine physically, the part of his brain that controls mood would be damaged, so his personality would be altered. He would probably be brain damaged and might be blind or deaf. He said if Steve survived, he might lose his arms or legs. Not only had it attacked the meninges, or brain lining, it had also caused severe septicaemia, or blood poisoning, which could be fatal as it could cause his organs to shut down. Then the doctor came in and confirmed that Steve had meningococcal meningitis, the most dangerous kind. He told me that when I went to see Steve, I should talk to him normally because he would still be able to hear and not show how upset I was. The nurse said Steve was wearing an oxygen mask and was attached to several tubes. Speechless with shock, I couldn't help wondering if the wasted hours had put his life at even greater risk. I already knew meningitis could be fatal. He hugged me and confirmed Steve had meningitis and was in intensive care. Then another nurse I knew vaguely came in. Please can someone tell me what's going on!' She showed me to a waiting room. In tears, I sobbed to a nurse: 'I don't even know if my husband is alive. But as I waited anxiously for news, I became hysterical. It was 9am by the time we arrived - three hours since I'd dialled 999. She took Emily to her house while I followed the ambulance to the Royal Berkshire Hospital in Reading, ten minutes away. They ignored me and wasted another an hour trying to treat Steve before sending for another doctor, who gave him a sedative, and two male paramedics. But when I opened the door to two slight women, I was distraught. Then, to my immense relief, I Wheard sirens. Where is my ambulance? Get one! Now!' He promised to, and left. Beside myself with fear and aware that every second counted, I screamed: 'I know he has meningitis. Steve had no rash - a common symptom of meningococcal meningitis - and the doctor said: 'I think he's just dehydrated.' But I knew my husband. By that time, Steve's father was here and Steve kept shouting at him and throwing him against the wall as he tried to help him dress.
But instead of an ambulance, they sent a doctor, who took 20 minutes to arrive. He was in such a state of delirium that I don't think he even recognised me.
The fever, the delirium, the aversion to light - they were all symptoms. That's when I realised he had meningitis. When I turned the light on, he screamed and hid under the duvet. Realising he was desperately ill, and terrified he would fall down the stairs, I screamed: 'Go back to bed!' Moving as if in agony, he managed to get back into bed, but when I tried to touch him, he recoiled in pain. Worried that Emily had fallen out of her cot, I started running upstairs and saw Steve lurching towards me, arms outstretched, bouncing from one wall of the landing to the other as he approached the top step. I'd just put the kettle on when I heard crashing upstairs. The next morning, I got up at 5.30am, as usual. Later, I kissed Steve goodnight and went to sleep in the spare room so 'I feel shivery, sweaty and I've no energy.' I sent him to bed and made him toast and tea. It was March19, 2001, and Steve, then 37, came back to our home in Reading early from his job as a foreman for a building contractor. Paranoid that Emily might contract it, I'd memorised the signs. My health visitor had given me an information card on bacterial meningitis. I only knew about the illness because we had a baby, Emily, who was then 18 months old. At 6ft 2in and as strong as an ox, my husband was the last person I'd expected to be at risk. Yet it had never occurred to me that a strapping man like Steve could be struck down with this life-threatening infection. Thank goodness I did, because if I hadn't, he would have died. When my husband fell ill with what he thought was flu, I recognised his symptoms as meningitis within hours.