Everybody knows almost doesn’t count. These are the words to a song I used to sing along to, mindlessly, in my youth.
One of my personal heroes was blinded after contracting meningitis as a 16 month old. A Hafiz, he went on to become a South African struggle lawyer and later a Constitutional Court Justice.
The results of my baby’s MRI are out. It confirms what we already knew. She too suffered a stroke as a result of the meningitis. The pathogen remains anonymous.
Her case is striking. Bacterial meningitis is known to cause stroke. Having ruled that out early on, although she was placed on antibiotics, the tests indicated a viral picture.
We know that similar cases were reported during the same time period. Are we dealing with a new strain of a known virus that also causes stroke?!
I bet the scientists are studying her blood work. Perhaps she will get featured in a scientific journal.
All the ifs and buts aside, all indications are that she will make a 100% recovery. She faced death. We faced the unthinkable. She was almost disabled. Almost most certainly counts.
I told her about the results. She smiled. I told her the doctor said her arm is going to get better. The other day she pushed that arm through the sleeve with minimal assistance. “High five, right hand!”, I said. She raised her hand to meet mine, one inch more. Almost most certainly counts.
I don’t know what the future holds for her. She will, however, be made to be fully aware of her brush with death. How her amazing body fought back. And how we all emerged stronger after the trial of fire.