My Australian GBS Story

It was a warm Thursday evening in December. We’d had one of those ridiculously busy work days where no one felt like cooking, so we decided to head out for dinner instead.

The kids were thrilled. They absolutely love eating out. We joke that they’re little bougie kids.

We settled on our local favourite, Mana Greek on Tamborine Mountain.

While we were sitting at the table, I noticed this dull ache in my thigh. I’d smashed out a big gym session the day before, so I didn’t think much of it. Just another training niggle, I assumed.

Dinner was great. We headed home, put the kids to bed and did exactly the same.

Then everything changed.

Not long after getting into bed, a deep pain started in my left shoulder. I took paracetamol. Nothing. Ibuprofen. Nothing. The pain just kept building.

By 11 pm I couldn’t take it anymore.

I woke my husband and told him I needed to go to hospital. I even told him to call an ambulance.

He looked at me and said, “No. Ambulances are for emergencies. I’ll take you.”

Looking back… it actually was an emergency. We just didn’t know it yet.

Instead, we woke our two sleeping kids, bundled them into the car in the middle of the night and drove to Logan Hospital.

By the time we arrived, the pain had spread into my right shoulder as well.

Sitting in the emergency department waiting room was torture. I honestly felt like I looked like someone desperately chasing a drug fix. I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t get comfortable. I was rocking, pacing, crying and howling in pain. I genuinely didn’t know what to do with myself.

Eventually a doctor came out and gave me Endone.

Nothing.

Not even the slightest bit of relief.

Meanwhile, my poor kids had fallen asleep across the waiting room chairs.

I remember telling my husband, “Once they get me into a bed, just take the kids home.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, I was taken through to a room and he headed home with the kids.

The doctors had no idea what was wrong.

Blood tests.

CT scan.

More questions.

Still no answers.

The pain never eased.

Eventually they decided to give me intravenous fentanyl before sending me for more tests.

It helped… a little.

But I was still in agony.

I should probably mention at this point that I’d always thought I had a pretty high pain tolerance. I’ve given birth to two children, tackled long day hikes, pushed my body through years of fitness training and competitions, and generally been the type of person to just get on with it when something hurt.

This pain was different.

It wasn’t something you could breathe through or push past. It completely consumed me.

By the next morning my husband walked back into the hospital carrying what I had been craving more than anything…

Coffee.

Honestly, I could have kissed him.

Somewhere between the caffeine and the passing of time, the pain suddenly eased. It didn’t disappear completely, but for the first time in almost 24 hours I wasn’t climbing the walls.

The doctors’ conclusion?

“Probably some unknown virus.”

I was discharged with Endone and told to take it if the pain came back.

Looking back now, I wish it had just been a virus.

Friday night was uncomfortable. The pain lingered but never reached the unbearable level of the night before.

Then I woke up on Saturday.

My hands and feet were tingling.

That was strange.

The pain had also moved into my back.

Something didn’t feel right, but I convinced myself I’d be okay.

We were supposed to be hosting our company Christmas party that night, and as one of the business owners I felt like I couldn’t miss it. The grandparents came over to stay with the kids while we headed into Brisbane.

I wish I’d stayed home.

We checked into our Airbnb before heading to the venue, and from the moment I arrived I felt like I was living in a dream.

I was exhausted.

I was in pain.

I was taking Endone.

I felt like I was floating through the room trying to have conversations with our employees while pretending everything was normal.

It definitely wasn’t fun.

After about an hour my back pain became unbearable again.

Then something else happened.

I picked up my drink… and realised I couldn’t lift the glass properly to my mouth.

What the hell was happening to me?

I tried to brush it off, but deep down I knew something was seriously wrong.

I went back to the Airbnb and spent another miserable night in pain.

By Sunday morning I’d had enough.

I looked at my husband and said, “You’re taking me back to hospital.”

Because it was my second visit in just a few days, the emergency department saw me much more quickly this time.

I explained everything.

The pain.

The tingling.

The doctor listened carefully before saying something I’d never heard before.

“I think you may have Guillain-Barré syndrome.”

Within minutes the tests began.

As terrifying as it was hearing a condition I’d never even heard of, there was also a strange sense of relief. For the first time, someone believed there was actually something wrong with me.

Little did I know, my life was about to change forever.