That time I had flesh eating disease (and saw a leprechaun)

When I was six years old, I woke up one morning and couldn’t move. I had a fever, my right leg was swollen and I was in pain. My mum wrapped me in a ski jacket and packed me into our lime green 78’ Volkswagen, driving as quickly to the doctor’s as the snowy roads would allow. We were sent directly to the hospital where I was given a bed and hooked up to an IV in the children’s ward.

I didn’t really understand what was wrong with me, but when I was told I wouldn’t be going home that night, I knew it was serious. 

During that time I remember receiving plenty of needles, taking sponge baths and eating more jello than I ever dreamed of. I listened to the girl across from me play with her singing mermaid doll on repeat, I learned a lot about Garfield from my curtain mate, and I smelt french fries at all hours from the boy whose mum brought in McDonald’s because he refused the hospital food. I don’t exactly recall how long I was there for, but I believe it was close to two weeks-what felt like an eternity to my six year old self.

My family would visit throughout the day and I would mostly be alone overnight. At that age (and for many years to come), I would quietly dread night time. I was hyper aware of things in the dark that I couldn’t articulate or explain. While it appeared I was alone, I knew and felt that I wasn’t really alone. So night time in a big, drafty hospital, or more specifically, The Charles Camsell Hospital (which, upon Googling, now holds the title as one of “Edmonton’s Most Haunted Buildings”) was a little scary for me...

The most vivid memory I have from one of those nights in the hospital is something I’ve never actually shared with anyone. I was woken up to see a short, pale-skinned man with a red beard standing beside my bed. Even in the dark, I could see that he was dressed in what appeared to be a green velvet suit. To be honest, he looked a lot like a ye olden times-y leprechaun. No big deal, right? He told me not to be scared, but that I wasn’t getting better and the medicine in my IV wasn’t working properly. He held out a cup of liquid and told me if I drank this medicine it would help me heal. I don’t know what I thought, but I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t question any of what was happening and drank what seemed to be cough syrup. He said goodnight and I fell back asleep.

What I didn’t know at the time was that I had flesh eating disease (or necrotizing fasciitis), a rare and deadly infection caused by a type of staph or strep bacteria. Once infected, the bacteria moves quickly and aggressively through the tissues and, in some cases, causes death within 12 to 24 hours. It kills 1 in 4 people infected. I was extremely lucky it was caught early and that I didn’t experience any life altering consequences, especially amputation.

As far as I remember, the morning after that other-worldly visit, no one mentioned the little man or what had happened and I never talked about it, but shortly after, my infection cleared and I was free to go home. 

“I’m sure it’s happened to you...Passing moments where you experienced something that didn’t fit in with your reality. Something you can’t explain, but also can’t explain away.”

In sharing this I have no doubt that most people have experienced something similar. Ok, maybe not a visit from a man in crushed velvet while a deadly bacteria eviscerated your insides, but I’m sure it’s happened to you. Little things, confusing experiences, or passing moments, where you felt, saw or experienced something that didn’t fit in with your reality.  Something you can’t explain, but also can’t explain away. Maybe it’s left you curious or it just plain creeped you out. We often hear how when we’re young, we’re all psychic, or, how I like to think of it, connected to the magical or unseen side of life. But as we get older, our lives get more complicated and if this connection isn’t mirrored back to us or nurtured when we’re little, it can fade away. I can attest to this.

I experienced many of these moments when I was young. I don’t believe I ever saw anyone as clearly as in that hospital, but I still saw things, heard things, dreamt things, knew things, and I definitely felt things, but I sensed it wasn’t something to be talked about. Everything in the external world told me this wasn’t reality, even though it was happening in my reality. 

For the longest time I was waiting for someone to give me permission to talk about or explore this hidden part of my life. When the invitation never came, I just kept pushing it down further and further. Someone is talking to me at night? No, that’s just my imagination. I dreamt about this happening and now it’s happening? No, that’s just a coincidence. Someone is following me up the stairs? No, that’s something I saw in a movie. I know and can feel exactly how these strangers on the bus are feeling? No, that’s just a projection. 

“The more I trust that what I see is true, the more I’m able to trust myself. And the more I trust myself, the more I can fully be myself. ”

I stopped believing that whatever I was experiencing was real and over time these occurrences stopped happening as often. It was as if I turned off a switch. I shut down my connection to the spiritual realm and my intuitive senses, and essentially I learned to stop trusting myself. It’s taken years, and the physical act of having my twins, to fully rip me open (pun intended) to this other side of life and I’ve spent the past while slowly unravelling from my conditioning and learning to trust myself again.

Reigniting my intuitive connection as an adult and strengthening these abilities has been confusing, chaotic, and downright scary at times, but it has also been liberating and unexpectedly healing. I’ve learnt that the more I allow my perceptions to be real, the more clear they become. The more I trust that what I feel, hear and see is true, the more I’m able to trust myself. And the more I trust myself, the more I can fully be myself.

Whatever your glimpses have been into your own truth (whether you identify them as spiritual or not), what would life look like if you just allowed them to be true? What would happen if you examined them deeper? How would your perception of the world and your place within it change? What possibilities could open up if you shared them with others? This is an invitation to do just that. I’m not saying it’s easy to leave behind a lifetime of not believing, of not listening, of being told that the exact opposite of your experience is the only truth, and to dismiss the very real fear of judgement, but truly, you’re the only one that knows what’s real for you. Trust that and trust yourself.

I’ll go first. Hi, I’m Sarah and I see things...like leprechauns. How about you?