A naturalist conducting research in the rain forests of Central America was asked about the deadly dangers of living in an environment filled with jaguars, poisonous snakes, and pumas.  Standing outside his jungle abode, the naturalist explained his concerns, it wasn’t the obvious large predators prowling around his camp; the most dangerous predators were the ones he didn’t see – the mosquitoes.  They were the most lethal entities in his environment.

Beware of the hypodermics with wings, each one with the possibility of carrying illness or death from West Nile virus or dengue fever, or malaria, or encephalitis.  This year’s outbreak of the West Nile Virus with 5,207 cases resulting in 234 deaths so far this year is proof this element of the jungle is now a part of our neighborhoods.  It is possible you were bitten by a mosquito with West Nile virus but, your immune system fought it off.  Have you ever felt like you were on the verge of a flu-like fatigue in August or September?  Did you attribute it to the fast pace of summer activities or the start of a cold?  Since West Nile virus has been reported in every state in the US except Hawaii and Alaska, as well as, several provinces in Canada, it is likely you may have dodged an epidemiological bullet.

Stress can be a factor as to whether the body’s immune system can fight off this invasion.  In August of 2010, I was assaulted with a huge amount of physical and emotional stress.  I was barely able to stand up against my life’s travails; a mosquito pushed me over the edge.

After two weeks of strenuous labor, the house I loved was empty and clean, ready for a new owner.  I spent the final couple of minutes standing at the end of what would be someone else’s driveway, talking to a person who would soon be my ex-neighbor.  It was about 6pm on August 31^st, when we were attacked by a swarm of aggressive mosquitoes.  The air was calm as our farewells were interrupted by the flailing of arms and hands trying to ward off our attackers.  My neighbor retreated into her house while I bolted for my car.  I drove off in tears unaware of the foreign invader I now carried would turn my life into a living hell.

By Labor Day weekend my exhaustion was visually apparent while I warned those around me to keep their distance because I must be on the verge of a terrible cold or flu.  I remember the feeling of huge weights attached to my feet as I struggled to lift them one at a time, up each step of the stairs of the beach club to arrive at my locker.  It took great effort to walk in the sand back to my beach chair which I collapsed into.  I remember sitting in my chair when, I suddenly sensed floating above myself being able to look down at me, my legs tanned from the sun of the long summer stretched out on the sand contrasted with the white cover up draped onto my thighs.  A women’s voice spoke from above and behind me saying these words, “say good-bye to those lovely legs.”  I would hear this voice again not with a warning but, offering me a choice.

The next day, my schedule for September 7th included an early walk with my best friend, a quick lunch followed by a graphic design class at a local college.  I awoke and went to the bathroom with each step an effort, collapsing back into bed.  I called my friend to let her know I had the flu, informing her I couldn’t walk with her that morning, with the warning I must be contagious and to keep her distance.  Being a great, best friend she ignored me, and within an hour she was walking down the hallway to my bedroom carrying grocery bags with containers of chicken soup, crackers and the necessities to provide flu relief.  She stopped, setting down the bags before she entered my room.  I could see the concern spread across her face.  I told her, “it’s the funniest feeling, I can’t move my legs”.  She wanted to call an ambulance immediately.  Later, she would tell me, my skin had a grayish pallor.

Why did I refuse the ambulance?  I hate hospitals, doctors and most of all, I am terrified of needles.  At the time, I thought I could just sleep this fatigue away. My suggestion was, I just needed to call the doctor.  So, after I negotiated my friend’s directive down to a doctor visit, from the prospect of an emergency room visit.  I got down the stairs sliding on my butt.  We called a friend who had a wheelchair and could carry me into his car then, we were off to the doctor’s office.  While being wheeled toward the examination room I passed a scale.  The kind of scale with weights along a bar indicating pounds; this scale was located just off the hall on my way to the examination room, this scale is last thing I remember.  Not the entire scale.  My last memory is this scale with about one third of it blacked out.  It is like a shutter in a camera got stuck.  The scale was vertically blacked out in the direction I was moving.  I do not remember the doctor’s examination, the emergency room, the hospital, the ICU.  My next memory is focusing my vision on a whiteboard trying to make out and comprehend why it indicated the date of “September 24”.