I experienced my first migraine in the summer of 2014 – a sharp and blinding pain to one side of my forehead, which felt like I was being stabbed. My brain was screaming at me, and I couldn’t shake the nauseating feeling that came with it. These migraines continued sporadically for the next couple of years, often occurring a couple of days before THAT time of the month, so I put it down to simply that, they were just menstrual migraines – potentially the result of the contraceptive pill I was on.
However, by 2016 I was experiencing pain like never before. Migraines that stopped me from leaving my bed other than to be sick, having to skip lectures and seminars because I physically couldn’t stand the light. The pain didn’t just stop in my head, it travelled down my neck and through to my wrist, and no amount of ibuprofen, paracetamol, deep heat or cooling gel would make any difference. By the summer holidays I was experiencing these migraines every single day but just kept putting it off as the hot weather or a bad night’s sleep.
When I began my third year of studying Criminology at the University of Leicester, things were seemingly fine. I enjoyed a few nights out in fresher’s week as normal student, and had begun planning Halloween costumes with my housemates. I have vague recollections of the semester beginning, and arriving to seminars extremely tired and struggling to stay awake during these. On reflection, I have no idea how I managed to get to and from university safely.
Although the next period of time is a complete haze to me, I know that I suddenly became very secluded from my two housemates and spent the majority of my time locked alone in my room. I avoided meal times and socialising – something that was very out of character for me as I was always the life and soul of the party.
On the 13th October 2016 in the early hours of the morning I woke up and began screaming the name of my housemate at the top of my lungs. “BECS, BECS, BECS,” I cried, but nothing else would come out of my mouth. I was extremely agitated and panicky and no one was really sure what to do. My housemate contacted my mum who told her to send for an ambulance, and I was taken to Leicester Hospital. Once there, they suggested that I had simply had a panic attack and sent me back home. How wrong they were…
I rang my mum later that day and struggled once again to speak to her, constantly apologising to her for no reason. During this time I sent some bizarre text messages to my friends and sister which made no real sense. The next morning I had deteriorated more and my parents came to collect me. When they found me I was sat sobbing on my bedroom floor. I was surrounded by clothes I had torn to pieces, and other belongings. When asked what was wrong I cried to my dad “I’M FAT, I’M UGLY, I DON’T HAVE A BOYFRIEND, I DON’T HAVE A JOB, I CANT DO MY DISSERTATION.” My eyes were wild and I was shaking, but no other words would come out. I have no recollection of any of this – all I remember is a bright shining light in my face. I later found out that this was my dad’s phone as he filmed me with the flash on to show to the doctors.
I was put into my parents’ car and they drove me to various hospitals – Lincoln, Louth, Grimsby etc., none of which would take me due to a bed shortage. During the car journey I could not speak but was robotically singing along to the radio. I also attempted to escape from the car as it was in motion.
Eventually, I was accepted into Boston Pilgrim Hospital and then at a later date Lincoln County Hospital, where I stayed for three months. During this time I went completely insane. I stripped completely naked and ran through the ward, as well as screaming random things such as “ORANGES, ORANGES, ORANGES.” I became completely childlike and aggressive, completely out of control of my own emotions and actions. I had completely lost my mind.
The doctors all thought I had suffered an extreme mental breakdown, and sectioned me immediately – giving me a bed on the Pete Hodgkinson Ward.
I had no idea what I was doing or saying, and have no recollection of any of this period. There are minor flashbacks of my dad, sister and uncle sat by my bedside, despite the fact I had many other visitors than this practically every single day.
Later, I went into a catatonic state characterised by muscular rigidity and mental stupor or appearing to be in a daze or stupor; unresponsive. I was living off multiple tubes and no one was sure whether I would survive, or what state I would be in if I did wake up. I also experienced numerous seizures, including five on my 21st birthday.
After being in this state for a long period of time, my mum and dad were informed that they had to make the decision whether or not to sign papers which would allow the hospital to perform Electro-Convulsive Therapy (ECT). This was a procedure in which electric currents are passed through the brain, triggering a brief seizure. Amazingly, I came around after just two rounds of ECT. Usually this takes double figures and huge amounts of steroids being pumped into the body.
During my time in hospital I fell out of my hospital bed and onto a radiator pipe for 30 seconds which resulted in a 10cm third degree burn to the same level as someone who’d been in a fire. Also, when I finally came round my left leg was in absolute agony and my foot was completely limp (foot drop) meaning that I could no longer walk. It is unclear as to whether this was a result of the fall or of the illness itself.
When I was eventually discharged from hospital a couple of days before Christmas, it is safe to say that I was not myself. My memory of the previous months was pretty much non-existent. I just remember being scared of the other patients around me as they were all also suffering with varying illnesses and saw me as somewhat of a novelty, being much younger than them. It was as if each day in hospital was only three seconds long and in those seconds I would either be handed medicine, or turned over in my bed and then everything would just go black. I had vivid and confusing dreams which made no sense and were often scary. My speech was impaired and I struggled to complete a sentence or find particular words. The thought of typing, writing or reading was completely foreign and I couldn’t even sit down and concentrate on a TV programme. I found it hard to stay awake for any period of time and found myself spending most of the day asleep. I got around using a basic splint and zimmer frame, and had to use a commode downstairs in my house as stairs were a huge problem.
In January 2017 I was diagnosed with Anti–NDMA Receptor Encephalitis, which is a disease occurring when antibodies produced by the body’s own immune system attack NMDA receptors in the brain. NMDA receptors are proteins that control electrical impulses in the brain. Their functions are critical for judgement, perception of reality, human interaction, the formation and retrieval of memory, and the control of unconscious activities (such as breathing, swallowing, etc.), also known as autonomic functions. This is the reason that I seemingly went insane.
The damage in my leg was later revealed to be damage to my sciatic nerve which may or may not heal itself after 2 years. Walking is now a huge challenge for me and I am awaiting a bespoke splint which is being made for me to replace my current one that I use alongside a pair of crutches. I am in constant agony with my leg, despite having tried various pain medicines. I am also on various other drugs to help control my seizures.
Although we could not have foreseen this illness other than being more vigilant in getting treatment for my migraines, on reflection there may have been multiple factors leading up to it. Namely, I had been extremely anxious and depressed for numerous years as a result of being abused and raped in my late teens. Furthermore, for many years multiple fake accounts of me had appeared on the internet on websites such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and even Plenty of Fish. Someone had also sold a fake magazine article about me. It was later revealed that this same person had been doing the same thing every 3 months for 3 years with various publications, and had even tried to sell a story that I was having an affair with Katie Price’s husband. This caused extreme stress and on top of this the everyday stresses of student life were applying a lot of pressure on me.
Because of missing three months of university I was unable to finish my degree this year and because of my impairment I will not be able to pick it up again next year. However, I am hopeful that by the year after my condition will have improved enough that I may finally get my BA in Criminology.
If you had asked me to type this seven months ago, or even five months ago, I wouldn’t have even known how to turn on a laptop. I am extremely lucky and grateful to be in the position I am, despite my life having taken a turn that I would never wish on anybody.
Lucy Dawson 