Hey friends—Sharon here, bringing you a little health lesson that’s both eye-opening and oddly graceful in its own way. Today, I’m talking about Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS). No, it’s not a fancy French pastry. (Though I’d argue there’s nothing wrong with a buttery croissant on a rough day.)
I’ve been hospitalized by this twice this year alone and still have pretty bad effects to this day.
What the heck is GBS?
GBS is a rare autoimmune condition where, for reasons that remain puzzling, your immune system decides to accidentally attack your own peripheral nerves—the ones outside your brain and spinal cord. Think of it like a security system gone rogue, misidentifying family members as intruders and causing chaos.
These nerves are responsible for movement, touch, temperature, and pain. So when they’re under attack, you start feeling tingling or weakness that usually begins in your feet or legs and slowly travels upward. Sometimes your face, arms, or other areas can get involved, too.
Thankfully, I have not experienced this farther than my forearms, and I pray that’s where it stays.
Why does GBS happen?
The short answer? We don’t totally know—and that’s the frustrating part. GBS typically pops up after an infection (like a stomach bug or respiratory virus), and occasionally after a vaccine—but the risk from vaccines is still far lower than the risk from infections themselves. I haven’t had any infections that I’m aware of, and I did have the COVID-19 vaccine a few years ago. This honestly came out of nowhere.
How scary is it?
GBS can ramp up quickly—over days to a few weeks. In some cases, it can be severe enough to affect breathing muscles, and even heart and blood pressure regulation—yeah, it’s serious enough to earn a spot in the ICU. (World Health Organization, Hopkins Medicine, Wikipedia, Cleveland Clinic)
For me, I think it came on over a few weeks, but I didn’t realize what it was at the time. I just knew that I hurt in my feet, legs, and hands.
But here’s a bright side: with early treatment—like immunoglobulin therapy or plasmapheresis—many folks recover fully or nearly fully. Recovery can take months or even a couple of years, but most go on to walk again and resume their lives. (Verywell Health, Hopkins Medicine, Mayo Clinic, Health, Wikipedia)
I had the Immunoglobulin therapy each time I was in the hospital. It’s a five-day treatment, that’s why I was in the hospital for so long.
A little Sharon-style twist to end on:
So yeah, GBS is like that rogue, well-meaning auto-correct that turns “heart” into “hart” and suddenly you’re in a medieval hunting lodge when you meant to tweet love. But here’s the silver lining: with the proper care and patience, it often corrects itself—and you come out wiser, stronger, and maybe with an unexpected appreciation for your toes. That is what I am counting on.
Hang in there, I try to be kind to myself, and try to remember that my body is acting like an over-caffeinated intern, maybe it’s my immune system just trying to make things… interesting.
