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At first, to the doctor who checked her over, the illness that struck my daughter, Cora, looked like a virus. Even the blood test suggested a virus. That was because I had taken her in so quickly when she started shaking with chills.  

Twenty-four hours later, her head was splitting and her body stiffening. I took her into the large pediatric practice that has taken care of her for years. It was the end of the workday, but by chance her own doctor was still there. 

She took one look at my lanky high school senior, nearly passed out on the high, too-short bed, and started the spinal test for meningitis. As soon as she finished that, she started antibiotics and fluids flowing into her veins. 

Then she called an ambulance to take Cora to our local hospital. That, too, happened quickly. Cora had barely arrived when another doctor from the practice, already in the hospital, entered the room where nurses were working to attach more i.v.’s and hook up her to monitoring machines.  

“This is a good hospital,” the doctor said, “but Cora deserves the best care available.” She was sending Cora to Indianapolis, an hour up the road. 

An ambulance was coming to take her to the Riley Hospital for Children, a major university teaching hospital. A Riley doctor and nursing team would be on board to accompany her.  

That night was the grimmest I have ever experienced. There was too strong a possibility that she might die (as do approximately one in 13 victims of the meningitis strain that attacked her).  

If she did not die, would she be irreparably harmed? Meningitis attacks the tissues around the spinal column and travels to the brain. It inflames the tissues around the brain and causes swelling. If the disease is not blocked quickly, brain damage can occur. 

Our story had a happy outcome. After a day and night in intensive care, Cora spent eight more days at Riley, treated with antibiotics and nursed back to health by a superb staff.  

Nine days after Cora stood at the door of death, she and I drove home together. 

Two days later, Cora walked across the stage at graduation. Once four weeks have passed, she’ll have the meningitis vaccination recommended for college students. 

A few days after we came home, I was telling this story to a physician friend who knew Cora. “She was lucky,” she said. A fast medical response had saved her life and restored her to health and wholeness. 

And then my friend added this grim thought: that if Cora had been one of millions of American children without medical insurance, she might not have survived.  

Our insurance had bought her fast, top-notch care. Without insurance, some parents might have hesitated to seek care until it was too late. Medical personnel might have delayed responding to a disease that does not brook delays. 

My physician friend had just returned from the local Bridge the Gap walk over our newest bridge in Bloomington—part of last Saturday’s nationwide push for health care for the uninsured.  

I gave her my e-mail address to add to the list: The next time there’s a bridge to walk, I want to be on it. 

Carol Polsgrove is a former East Bay resident who lives in Bloomington, Indiana. 

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