Kayla St. Pierre
ASMP Advocate
What started off as an ordinary day nearly cost me my life. It was March of 2000, and I was in the fifth grade, determined to win the perfect attendance award. I didn’t feel great that morning, but I insisted on going to school anyway.
As the day went on, I felt worse, especially pain in my legs. I left school early and went home to rest. Later that evening, I woke up from a nap covered in purple blotches. I knew something was seriously wrong. My parents rushed me to the emergency room at Lawrence General Hospital in Massachusetts. The doctors quickly recognized the signs of meningococcal disease and had me transferred to Children’s Hospital in Boston. It was later confirmed that I had contracted serogroup B meningococcal disease.
I don’t remember much from that time. The infection progressed so rapidly that I was placed into a medically induced coma. Doctors told my family I had a 10% chance of surviving the night. To save my life, they had to amputate both of my legs below the knee and many of my fingers. My kidneys also failed, and I was placed on dialysis.
I spent nearly 10 months in the hospital. First at Children’s Hospital, then at Boston’s Shriners Hospital for rehabilitation. I went through multiple surgeries, painful physical therapy, and months of learning how to live in a completely new body.
As if that weren’t enough, my mother passed away during my recovery. My father was doing his best, but with other kids to care for and so many responsibilities, it became clear I needed more support than he could provide. That’s when a Nurse Practitioner named Heather, who had helped care for me during my time at the hospital, stepped in. She and her husband, Tony, became my legal guardians and cared for me as if I had always been their daughter. They gave me a family again.
By then, my kidney function had briefly returned, and I was able to focus on healing and regaining my independence. But in early 2002, my kidneys failed for good. I resumed dialysis, and it was hard. I was just a kid, spending hours hooked up to machines three days a week. That’s when Tony decided to get tested. He turned out to be a perfect match, and on July 30, 2002, he gave me one of his kidneys.
The transplant was a success, and it gave me a second chance at life. I still faced challenges related to meningitis, but I persevered. I graduated from high school, earned degrees in psychology and nursing, and continued sharing my story to raise awareness about meningococcal disease.
Fast forward more than 20 years, in December 2024, my kidney began to fail again. I underwent a second transplant, and I’m now healing, resting, and getting stronger every day.
Today, I’m returning to my advocacy work with the American Society for Meningitis Prevention. I speak out to educate young people, parents, and healthcare professionals about this devastating disease. I’m here to make sure others know that protection is possible and crucial. Most people don’t realize there are five major types of meningococcal disease, and not all vaccines cover them all. The type responsible for most college outbreaks isn’t always required by schools.
I share my story not because it’s easy, but because it matters. I survived, but many don’t. And I want to do everything I can to make sure no one else has to experience what I did.