My Meningitis Purge


Life is challenging. Even if you’re one of those amazing people who always see things positively (and I know some of them), or you’re one of those folks who wrangle challenges better than others (I know them too), we all face hurdles. Only hurdlers handle that one.

This past year was hurdle after hurdle for me, and I found myself mired in dark stuff that I wanted to wrap-up and pack away. But I was stuck. Then, as the year was ending and I felt like maybe I was finding my groove again, December opened with meningitis in Israel, and now three months of recovery. And trust me, I’ve challenged that number–– because three months seems like a very long time, but every time I try and jump back into normal right now, it is incredibly clear that normal is still a ways off. So 2018 is opening with impaired speech and processing skills, lots of doctor’s appointments, anxiety about how to manage it all, and my impatience in dealing with any of it. My impatience and frustration are stumbling blocks I put in my own way, but I’m still working on that one too.

It’s hard to explain what it feels like to be unable to do and say what I want, for more than six weeks now, as I get through this recovery. Stunted, impatient, sad, frustrated, stuck, inspired, sedentary, angry, lonely, insecure, needy, anxious, tuned in, resentful, hopeless, hopeful, static, abandoned, excited, comforted, nurtured, disappointed, grateful… ok, that makes a dent in expressing what this is like. Dented.


I’m not a patient person. I’ve had a really hard time accepting that I can’t do a lot of things right now, that each day feels static, and I sometimes need help. I’m not good at asking for help. It’s hard to ask when I know other people are busy, or, I don’t really know what to ask for. I feel frustrated with myself and everything that’s happened–– still shaken that everything transpired the way it did, and shaken by fractured traumatic memories, and a passage of time that feels surreal at best. I’m disappointed in people I’ve reached out to in the past, or been there for, who did nothing for me, people who count a Facebook comment as support. I’m hurt by friends and family members who haven’t given a shit enough to call and connect, or be here when we–– I needed it. Asking for help is harder when you’re feeling vulnerable and scared; I needed some of those people to step up and just be here with a phone call, card, meal, or something tangible. It’s amazing when people just get it and don’t need the explanation–– folks who brought by a meal not because we asked, or offered specific help, and understood when I didn’t feel like saying hi. Admittedly, some of the “do you need anythings,” were answered with, we’re fine, thanks, because it was just too hard to think beyond the mountain of needs, and give a thoughtful suggestion. Need, needs, needy. It was constant.

images copy 2

And yet, I’m very grateful for so many things that happened during the challenging weeks, so far. While I’ve felt over-whelmed, I’ve also felt deeply moved by friends and family who called; quietly sat with me; drove me to appointments and waited (sometimes for hours); or hosted the Christmas gathering I planned (before I got sick) for a big group, and did it with humor, love and grace. I’m so grateful for a few close friends and my kids, who texted me when I was in the hospital in Israel, and felt scared and alone. They glued me together with their words, and let me know it would all be ok. I’m grateful for my son, who told me that this will all go away and I will be myself again… when I most needed to hear that, and feared it wouldn’t happen. I still go back and read his message on days when I feel anxious than I’m not myself yet–– when my stuttering, and failure to think of words; or my inability to drive myself more than a mile; or handle more than easy activities; or the hours and hours of binge-watching shows gets to me; or I realize I haven’t been out in the fresh air or taken a walk in so many weeks; when people who don’t know, and can’t see the problems, look at me strangely, as I try to say something, or freeze in confusion; when I feel like this stupid immune system of mine, that is going out of its way to challenge me, will never let me be the strong, healthy person I want to be–– on these days, in these minutes, I read that message from my son, to remind myself that this will indeed end, and I will be myself again. My. Self.

I’m grateful for my husband, who was there holding my hand and reassuring me, when things were so scary and sideways. He missed out on time with your beloveds as well, but he never threw that my way. We both missed a long-planned visit in Israel with our daughter, son-in-law and incredible grandson; it was beyond painful and disappointing. We missed spending Hanukkah in Jerusalem; we missed playing with our grandson, or treating our daughter and son in law to dinner out, while we babysat; we missed so many cuddles and kisses that we wait months and months for, and instead had days of scary hospitalization and daunting decisions. My husband, a physician, was also able to explain all the medical terminology to me, which would have been so overwhelming without him. I couldn’t have flown home, for better medical care, without him. Could not have done it. I was too weak, to unstable, and could not have navigated airports, delays, and my miserable situation. He was amazing, and I’m so grateful he was with me. The seriousness of it all definitely drew us together.


I’m going up and over these challenges!

It’s been hell at times; it really has. As I get stronger and delve into processing everything, it’s hard not to feel stuck on things that are still lumps in my head. I feel sad that I missed being with my baby; I can’t quite wrap my mind around all that occurred. I feel done and over people and situations that don’t support me, fill me, or haven’t reciprocated mutual connections. Done. But despite all the disappointing things that have been heaped on this New Year so far, I also feel very positive about this New Year. I feel hopeful. I believe this is going to be a very important year. Admittedly, I’m a believer in signs, the mystical, that feeling, and magic. I believe in magic. And while I can’t put my finger on it, I feel like this year is going to be a good one. I’m going to be myself again, and I believe I’m going to be a better self, for having thought through some things that came up during this crisis, and for circling back to gratitude. For all the painful things I noticed and can’t un-notice now, or the hard things that happened, I’ve been surrounded by love and I’m grateful for every magical thing that’s happened.

Check out the Daily Prompt for more posts on static.

*     *     *

GIPYKAPOW! Have you stopped by Tales From the Motherland Facebook page to spread some fairy dust? I’m grateful for each Like. Follow me on Twitter, LeBron James does (for real)! Most importantly, if you like a post I’ve written, hit Like and leave a comment. Honest, constructive feedback is always appreciated. Click Follow; you’ll get each new post delivered by email,  no spam.

©2011-2018  All content and images on this site are copyrighted to Dawn Quyle Landau and Tales From the Motherland, unless specifically noted otherwise. If you want to share my work, I’m grateful, but please give proper credit and Link back to my work; plagiarism sucks!


About Dawn Quyle Landau

Mother, Writer, treasure hunter, aging red head, and sushi lover. This is my view on life, "Straight up, with a twist––" because life is too short to be subtle! Featured blogger for Huffington Post, and followed on Twitter by LeBron James– for reasons beyond my comprehension.
This entry was posted in Awareness, Blogging, Gratitude, Healing, Honest observations on many things, Life, Positivity, Tales From the Motherland, Wrting and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

35 Responses to My Meningitis Purge

  1. Happy, healthy 2018. So glad you’re on the mend and always admire your tenacity in the face of challenges and ability to share your obstacles with your readers. Write on, dear friend. xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

  2. noahezra says:

    Thanks for telling it with such honest detail. Praying for your full recovery as soon as possible. Love, Sarah

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sitting with our vulnerable selves is HARD. You’re doing great, Dawn. xo

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Cathy Ulrich says:

    I wish I could be there to hold you and give you a big hug. What a scary, awful time. I see you getting stronger with every day. I think sometimes people don’t know what to do – wanting to help but not wanting to put additional burden on an already stressed system. You’ve been in my thoughts a lot.
    Much love,

    Liked by 1 person

    • I know you’re right, Cathy, and it’s clear that for some people, that’s exactly what it was. But it’s also striking to see who really offered nothing, nada, and who stepped up. Hard not to see that, and realize it’s time to let go, and, move on, and embrace the good. Challenges I don’t do well, but I’m ready to tackle. Thanks friend! xox

      Liked by 1 person

  5. hbksloss says:

    Patience and perspective are not easy (for some of us 😋). But your list of feelings is spot on–so real, so raw, so perfect. Helpful to read of your struggles and hopefullness as I go along my recovery journey too. Thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. hbksloss says:

    Patience and perspective are not easy (for some of us 😋). But your list of feelings is spot on–so real, so raw, so perfect. Helpful to read of your struggles and hopefull attitude as I go along my recovery journey too.


  7. Carrie Rubin says:

    So sorry to hear you’re still struggling so much with this. I’m currently in New Hampshire with my mom after my very lovely stepfather passed away. There have been people who have stopped by with food or with offers to run to the store, and their help is so much appreciated, so I understand where you’re coming from. I really hope things improve for you.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Dawn, there’s so much I can relate to. And I wish I were in a better place myself, to drive up there and give you Reiki sessions. First off, it’s great to have you writing and finding the good amongst the bad and the hard and the disappointing. You’re healing and mending, and coming back together with more insight and more wisdom. Hugs for when the days suck, and cheers looking forward to a better 2018.


    • Thanks Susan. I know you will figure all of the tricky stuff you’ve been grappling with, out, and move forward too. As you know, it’s a path, and few paths are straight. Thanks for the kind support and warm wishes; I’m always grateful. xo

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Carol Middelburg says:

    We are all cheering for your complete and total recovery, but hard to know when/if to call when you have said a couple of times to hold off. I am wearing my angel for you and KNOWING you will be well again soon…you know, since you come from such strong stock! :-). Love and hugs to you and Barry!

    Liked by 1 person

    • YOU can always call. And if I’m not up for talking, I don’t answer. 😉 Early on, the request was for no questions… there was much to much of that, and hard to address them all. Again, you are always on the VIP list. xxox


  10. jgroeber says:

    Look at all this love flowing your way from all over the world. Wishing for you the ability to sit still in the knowledge that you’ll find a way to the other side of this and that the other side place brings you the good health and strength you need.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It is a powerful thing to feel love from so many directions, and I feel it. The gratitude far outweighs the moments of frustration, anger, hurt… I feel loved and supported, by those who mean the most, and I feel much clearer about who is who. Thanks Jen. Your support and loving messages have meant so much. xox


  11. nantubre says:

    Dawn, again I am so sorry that you have to deal with all of these changes. But at the same time I am so grateful to you for articulating what you are going through. Without knowing it you have blessed me. Paragraph 3 beginning with sentence #2.. that’s me right now. Let me clarify that I have not had the horrifying life threatening experience you have had to endure. But I still find I have the same response to my situation that you’ve had to Yours. I’m having a cardiac pacemaker implanted on Tuesday. It’s shocking to me. I’m only 63. Nothing wrong with my circulatory system, just low voltage. My heart rate is 40-48. I sort of got mad at God because 2years ago I had a brain tumor removed. And I shook my fist and said “what?! What else do I have to endure??” His answer was practically instantaneous. “Don’t you mean what else am I going to SAVE you from?”
    Got you in my prayers girl. 2018 is waiting for you and you will be blessed.


    • Nan, it sounds like you’ve been through things EVERY bit as challenging as me (though there is no contest here), and you have faced it with grace and courage. All we can do is move forward and work beyond our trials. It’s normal for both of us to feel frustrated, sad, angry, grateful, hopeful… all of the adjectives I inserted in my post, and a host of others. Good days and infinitely lousy ones, right? Sending you healing thoughts as well, and all the best in 2018; let’s seize it lady!


  12. Pingback: Puzzled | TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

  13. You’ve got this. You’ve got it. This year, the world will be your oyster, minus the slime.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Pingback: Rumors Of My Demise… (an unplanned tutorial in blogging, and explanation for my disappearance) | TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND

  15. Pingback: The 2018 Annual Attitude of Gratitude: Bloggers Flood The Internet With Happiness & Positivity! | TALES FROM THE MOTHERLAND


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s