I’ve never been one particularly susceptible to illness but three weeks ago a nasty condition demanded my attention. The Scottish Parliament was visiting from Christchurch and we were looking forward to a weekend away with The Wee Man up in The Hokianga as guests of our good friends Steve and Maude. Steve Allen is an agent with the Professionals in Kerikeri and has an enviable stranglehold over his specialist territory in and around that most heavenly part of Godzone known as The Hokianga.

We enjoyed a pleasant evening with Steve and Maude at The Copthorne in Omapere on the Friday and turned in quite early. Saturday dawned fine and warm with a relaxed morning culminating in a refreshing ale or two at the Opononi Hotel – a great place to watch the world go by from at a very leisurely Hokianga pace. Halfway through the afternoon I began feeling a bit dodgy with energy and appetite abandoning me. I was forced to forego the plan to watch the Super Rugby at The Copthorne and collapsed into bed around 7pm. A restless, sweaty and uncomfortable night saw my condition only worsen by morning as I became convinced that I was down with an aggressive bout of flu.

We were due to head home on the Sunday via a stop in the Waipoua Forest to introduce The Wee Man to the King of trees – the mighty Tane Mahuta. I was rendered largely immobile as I started to question whether or not I was suffering from something more sinister than just a flu. Around 2pm we departed with Glenda at the wheel (I must have been ill!) and stopped at Tane Mahuta. I’ve always been of the opinion that medications like Panadol or Nurofen do one no good because they simply mask the symptoms and trick the body into thinking all is well, therefore blocking the instinct for the body to confront the invader. It had been at least 30 years since I’d last taken one but my condition had deteriorated to the point where I was craving relief from the discomfort so I gulped down a couple of Nurofen and within twenty minutes was forced to admit to feeling a little better. This was just as well since we’d built young Blair up to quite a state regarding the giant tree and I didn’t want to miss it out. The Scottish Parliament and The Wee Man skipped off down the track and I ambled after them. Predictably, Young Blair took a cursory glance at Tane Mahuta and immediately began asking for a ‘small tree’. We didn’t stay long and I was pleased to collapse back into the car.

Upon arrival back at The Ranch I could do little more than go back to bed. I only dozed throughout the night and at one point had to get a towel to sleep on as I had drenched the bed with sweat. I was worse by Monday morning, with blocked ears and nose and almost total lethargy, basically spending the day in bed. Glenda was due to fly back south around lunchtime but was forced to cancel her flight as I had become little more than a ragdoll. It was a damn lucky thing she was visiting at this time because there was no way I could have coped with myself, let alone with the demands of a very boisterous three year old. Over the course of the day I became convinced that my condition was due to a strange insect bite I’d noticed on my leg the previous Friday morning and when I awoke feeling somewhat better on Tuesday morning, that confirmed it for me. We were satisfied that I could now cope so Glenda rebooked a flight south for Wednesday lunchtime.

I felt much the same again on Wednesday and so farewelled her at the airport, confident that I was rapidly returning to health. This was not to be and Thursday introduced new symptoms, not the least of which was an intensely sensitive patch on my scalp. It was time to break another taboo and seek medical assistance, given that my ‘bush doctor’ skills had thus far proven inadequate. I hadn’t been to the doctor for some years and technically I was still a patient of the family doctor some 50km away – a drive I didn’t feel up for so I called in at the medical centre in the new shopping complex 5km down the road and met with Dr. Paton.

He became concerned that I might be suffering from a condition known as Temporal Arteritis which he described as a ‘serious condition’ requiring ‘urgent treatment’. Basically it consists of damage to, and inflammation of, the arteries around the brain and is diagnosed by a blood test which he immediately took. He was sufficiently concerned to start treatment before learning the results of the blood test. The treatment is heavy doses of steroids. I took them home and got stuck into them but then I made a big mistake. I looked up Temporal Arteritis on the internet.

It was a serious condition alright and often leads to permanent and total blindness and strokes. If I didn’t have this condition, a couple of hours reading about it on the internet would be enough to worry myself into it or something worse. Everything I read about it and its symptoms caused me to blurt out "Oh My God! This must be what I have!" I spent a very anxious afternoon by the phone, cutting anybody who rang short so as not to miss the all-important call from the doctor. Of course he rang about 5.30 to calmly tell me that I didn’t have Temporal Arteritis, but instead I appeared to be suffering a severe viral attack. "What virus?" I enquired. "No way of telling" replied he. "Doctor House would find out" I said. He laughed and told me to continue on the steroids but at a lower rate and this should help. Basically I had to sit it out and the symptoms should diminish and disappear over the next few days. If they didn’t I was not to hesitate to go back and see Dr. Paton.

A few days went by and by Wednesday I felt no better, so went back to the doctor. He took more blood tests to confirm that the things which were ‘elevated’ in last week’s blood tests were ‘less elevated’ by now. He said he’d let me know later in the day but I didn’t hear from him. Thursday rolled around and I was due to head for Dargaville for the day to attend the Northland Fieldays. As luck would have it my condition had thrown me another curveball and I appeared to have lost control over the left hand side of my face. I met up with Dave Meaney at the Fieldays, the energetic Irishman who’s brainchild is Rural Trader. At least my condition was giving somebody a laugh, as he happily dribbled and twitched at my expense. I expected to hear from Dr. Paton by phone and was looking forward to introducing him to the latest manifestation of this virus, whilst harbouring some concern that I may have suffered a stroke.

He never called and I wondered if the forces of darkness were sending me messages as no fewer than three birds lost their lives due to high speed altercations with my windscreen on the way home. Dave must have let guilt get the better of him as I found a message on my phone later that evening from him ‘hoping I’d got home safely’.

Again I went to the doctor the next morning, only to be told that I had Bell’s Palsy and it might go on for six to eight weeks. If it got really bad my left eye might be in danger of infection so they’d have to tape it up and put an eyepatch on me. Fantastic.

Dr. Paton confirmed the uncomfortable truth that a virus was running riot inside my head and had attacked and temporarily crippled at least two of the twelve nerve systems inside my skull. He even numbered them for me. At this point he added antiviral drugs to my medication but said basically keep doing what you normally do. I took him literally and translated this as "take eight beers and call me in the morning". I think this helped a bit and decided to continue this treatment over the weekend. I haven’t looked back but the Bell’s Palsy continues. I have to manually engineer my lips out of the way when biting into food but have bit my lip so many times now there’s a huge lump on it, making it even easier to bite. When I blink my left eye doesn’t completely shut and so dries out a bit. This is cured in the shower however when I think I’ve got my eyes shut but the left one actually isn’t so when I stick my face under the flow it simply fills up with water. As the day goes on the left eye becomes sore and irritated so the right one starts shouldering most of the workload. Net result – sore and tired eyes especially later in the day.

On the bright side the eye and lip thing is about the only side effect remaining. I’m sleeping and eating better (although food tastes a bit funny but that might just be the portions of my lips I’m eating) and most of my boundless energy has returned. Its times like this I’m glad I keep myself in peak physical condition as I’m sure this is a big help in bouncing back. I do have, however, a newfound respect for viruses.