A friend, a girlfriend and a daughter who is not remembered for her smile or her dreams so much as for her death: Jill Dieringer died of meningococcal disease. That is the truth. And this disease is scary. But it is not who Jill was, and it should not be her legacy.
I regret that I never knew her. The Emerald’s article about her death was the first I had even heard her name. The picture showed a beautiful young woman excited about the possibilities of life. However, the article revealed a dangerous disease that can kill someone in 48 hours.
My mind didn’t focus on the face smiling up at me from the page. It was the words that consumed me. Meningococcal disease? What is it? Is it spreading? Is there a cure? Questions paraded through my brain. And obviously I was not the only one who felt this overwhelming concern.
A fellow classmate of mine belongs to the Kappa Delta sorority. Before class, she talked with a few people in the hallway about the disease. Distressed, she recalled the reaction she and three Kappa Delta sisters received from fellow students.
The four were avoided throughout the class by every one of their classmates. One of her classmates who felt she was endangering everyone approached her and demanded to know why she was in class. Then this young woman talked about how the blood bank stipulated that those who had personal contact with Dieringer could not give blood.
To the uninvolved, these seem like logical precautions. To Dieringer’s friends and to those who knew her, it seems like a slap in the face. A friend dies, and instead of receiving support, they get treated with misplaced fear.
They were at risk. Advised to go to University Health Center, they obeyed, all the while wondering if they would be alive the day after tomorrow. At the clinic, they learned that most of the time when people are exposed to meningococcal disease, their immune systems can handle it without difficulty.
Occasionally, an “invasive disease” occurs, but it is so rare that less than 1 percent of people who are exposed will develop symptoms. Unfortunately, Dieringer fell into that 1 percent. The sorority sisters received the antibiotics just in case they might be susceptible to the disease, and then they were sent away. No quarantine, no fuss.
Fear dissolves when the light is turned on to reveal the truth. The monster who sent shivers down your spine as a youth was no more than a stuffed panda bear. Meningococcal disease is no monster. Flip on the light and see that it cannot get you. It is a horrible disease, without a doubt, but it is harmless if you know what it is and how to protect yourself.
Dieringer did not deserve to die of meningococcal disease. No one deserves such a fate. But most of all, she doesn’t deserve to be remembered this way.
Please remember the truth instead of the fear — a beautiful life instead of death.