Meg Lumsden - Unknown: A Memoir – Guillain-Barré Syndrome

Meg Lumsden

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Penrith NSW 2750

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Copyright 2021 Meg Lumsden

All rights reserved

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Hi, Im Meg.

Unknown is the first novel I have written, and it has taken a little over five years to complete. I began writing after suffering full body paralysis from a condition known as Guillain Barre Syndrome. My hands were the first parts of my body that returned sensation and as part of my rehabilitation I began tapping away at the keyboard and recording my journey of recovery. As time went on, I realised how therapeutic writing was, particularly when I was in a situation where I felt so lonely and like no one understood.

As my health improved, I searched for books and material that were positive and uplifting, stories like my own, however I felt the information available about Guillain Barre fell short. It was the road to recovery intertwined with life experiences that led me to ask the question, how many other people must be suffering from debilitating medical conditions? This made me more determined to finish Unknown with the intention that if it helped one single person, either emotionally, physically, or just gave them a laugh, then I had accomplished my goal.

unknown

adjective

not known or familiar

Synonyms: undisclosed, unrevealed, undivulged, untold, unspecified, secret, mysterious, dark, hidden, concealed.

I believe I have a very vivid and entertaining imagination. Some say I exaggerate. But the story I am about to tell you needs no exaggeration.

At first I wanted to write a book solely about my recovery from the life-threatening condition known as Guillain-Barr syndrome. But then I got thinking about whether it was the chicken or the egg that came first. Let me explain. Guillain-Barr syndrome is a condition that involves a lot of unknowns. I say this while rolling my eyes because the unknowns cover a wide range of factors and pose numerous, and apparently unanswerable, questions. First and foremost, how did I get this condition? The doctor says, Its unknown. Will the condition return? The specialist says, Its unknown. How long will full recovery take? And yes, you guessed it, the neurologist says, but oh so professionally, Its unknown. This is not only frustrating but it can also be quite scary, for the simple reason that you expect the professionals to have all the answers. If you break your arm, say, or have a case of appendicitis, they know how to fix it. In my experience it is not often that someone falls ill and is told, Sorry, we dont know what is wrong with you and we dont know how to help you. You are on your own for this one.

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My story began during a visit to Nha Trang, a fast-developing city situated on the hot, sandy Vietnamese coast. Together with my partner Tim, I was part of a group of forty people touring Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia and Thailand. Looking back, Nha Trang was as good a place as any for a world to fall apart in. I recall it was still under construction: on every block bamboo scaffolding encompassed the frames of new high-rise buildings, while the noise of jackhammers and machines mingled on the steamy air with the persistent roar of traffic. Invariably, life gravitated towards the waterfront, which boasted a spacious cement promenade that stretched for kilometres against the glistening waters of the South China Sea.

The day Im talking about was much like any other on our freewheeling tour. Tim and I had taken a boat to an island where wed spent the day swimming and snorkelling among the brightly coloured coral and shoals of tropical fish. The sun was strong and it took it out of us. Ive inherited my Dads Scottish blood and pale features. This makes it hard not only to get a tan but also to keep it. I had applied and reapplied sunscreen throughout the day, but even so, by the time the boat brought us back that afternoon, my skin had turned a light shade of pink.

That evening we were dining at an extravagant restaurant called the Sailing Club. Located at the south end of the waterfront, this place impressed from the moment you stepped into the foyer. From floor to ceiling the walls were covered in white marble tiles without an inch of dust. I could envisage the staff hand-polishing them daily. The waiters and waitresses, of which there were many, sported white buttoned shirts with black bow ties and tailored pants. The Sailing Club was definitely a place that my Mum would call flash.

As I stepped down onto the beach that evening, I remember thinking that this was, hands down, one of the most gorgeous and most perfectly set restaurants I had ever been to. Not only was it on the beach, which is my place of Zen, but it created a calming, serene atmosphere that seemed to ooze like a drug into your being. For a long and delicious moment I stood and looked at the sea, feeling the warm sand between my toes while a gentle breeze engulfed my body.

The good feeling was only mildly impinged upon by a creeping nausea and a mild fatigue. I attributed this to our long day in the sun, although the truth was I hadnt been feeling well for the last few days. The best way I can explain it is to say that when I was standing still, I felt like I was still moving. Perhaps I was land-sick, I thought. As I stood on the beach, I had the feeling that my head was still rocking gently side to side with the motion of the boat. I was sure it would pass with time, but tonight I was going to take it easy.

People were mooching about, moving at a leisurely pace. Reggae music sounded from a small bungalow behind me. A waiter passed by carrying a tray of refreshing-looking cocktails. Candles and tiny lanterns flickered on the wooden tables, which were set with starched white napkins and silver cutlery. The flames seemed to melt into the soft glow of evening as the sun set on the horizon.