ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: MONDAY, January 23, 1995                   TAG: 9501250027
SECTION: SPORTS                    PAGE: B-1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: ANDREA KUHN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LEXINGTON                                  LENGTH: Long


WASHINGTON AND LEE'S DUVALL GOT THE SCARE OF HIS LIFE

TYLER DUVALL nearly died during the '93-94 basketball season after contracting a form of meningitis.

The disease struck frighteningly fast.

Masked by symptoms of the common flu, it immobilized Tyler Duvall within a matter of hours.

Within two days, it sent a wave of fear across the Washington and Lee University campus, caused the cancellation of a basketball game in Norfolk and sent dozens of people to the school's infirmary.

It was the first day of February 1994 when Duvall, a junior transfer on the W&L basketball team, began feeling ``crummy.''

The lanky point guard went to his 8:30 a.m. class, came home and took a nap. When he woke up, Duvall felt miserable - fever, nausea, chills - so he headed wearily to the campus infirmary.

``I told [the doctors], `I think I have the flu.' They said, `Yeah. Go home, get some rest, drink fluids,' the usual stuff,'' he said.

Duvall returned to his dorm room and called Melanie Middleton, an assistant trainer at W&L, to let her know he didn't feel up to practicing that afternoon.

As the day wore on, Duvall felt progressively worse. He was desperately thirsty, but would vomit from just a sip of water. He couldn't sleep and his joints began to swell, particularly

By the next morning, Duvall hardly could walk, but still he thought it was just the flu.

``I would virtually crawl to the bathroom,'' he said. ``I would just hope I could make it there.''

Around 9 a.m. the next day, Middleton called Duvall to see how he was feeling - standard operating procedure for sick athletes. Duvall barely could make his way to the phone, about three feet from his bed.

``He said he had never felt that sick in his life,'' Middleton said. ``I asked if he could get to the infirmary, and he said he couldn't. Knowing Tyler, that's when I figured it was serious. He's not one to complain.''

Middleton and W&L's head trainer, Tom Jones, were at Duvall's dorm room within five minutes and saw instantly how serious it was.

``He was ashen gray and his eyes looked like black holes,'' Middleton said. ``He was really weak and just kept talking about the pain in his left knee.''

They helped Duvall back to the infirmary, where doctors still believed it was a bad case of the flu. They gave him a shot for nausea - ``which did absolutely nothing,'' Duvall said - and confined him to a bed for several hours.

Soon, Duvall's blood pressure began falling, he became increasingly pale and noticed dark purple blotches on his hands - the result of capillaries bursting beneath his skin. It was then that doctors sent Duvall to the emergency room at Stonewall Jackson Hospital.

``I sat in a wheelchair outside the emergency room for about half an hour. I just remember thinking this is the worst thing I could possibly imagine,'' said Duvall, a native of Bethesda, Md.

``... I was in misery. I didn't know what it was, but for some reason I didn't think it was that serious. I was too busy trying to find my comfortable positions, the ones that were least painful. I didn't even think about the fact that I could be seriously ill.''

Doctors put Duvall on intravenous fluids and antibiotics. A barrage of tests revealed the cause of Duvall's agonizing pain: meningococcemia.

``They finally told me what it was, and I still didn't know once they told me,'' Duvall said.

It wasn't good.

Duvall had contracted the bloodstream form of the infection that causes meningitis, a potentially fatal inflammation of the membranes that cover the brain and spinal cord.

Doctors quarantined Duvall and made plans to have him transported by helicopter to the University of Virginia Hospital in Charlottesville.

``They told me they called my parents and they were on their way to Charlottesville,'' Duvall said. ``Then, they told me they were flying me by helicopter to Charlottesville. These were all the signs that I should be worried, and I wasn't. I was just like, `All right, cool.' I was in so much pain that it wasn't even crossing my mind the fact that I was practically dying.

``The helicopter ride was about 30 minutes to UVa, which was more misery because I was strapped down. I was most worried during that time, because I started to think that maybe it really was something serious. But for some reason, once I got to UVa and the intensive care unit, I started to feel calm. `I'm in the hands of professionals now, nothing's going to happen to me,' that's kind of what I thought.''

`I really thought I was going to die'

Meanwhile, W&L officials were busy alerting students and faculty members to Duvall's condition. Signs were posted around campus encouraging those with flu-like symptoms or those who had close contact with Duvall to go immediately to the student health center for evaluation.

As a precaution, the health center distributed antibiotics that week to 39 people, including the entire W&L men's basketball team and its coaches.

The Generals arrived in Norfolk the night Duvall was diagnosed and were warming up for their game against Virginia Wesleyan when they were told of their teammate's condition. The game was canceled and the W&L team came straight back to Lexington.

``We started immediately the oral antibiotics and counseled anyone who had any of the symptoms,'' Middleton said. ``We knew they had to be in close contact with Tyler for several hours to be at risk.''

Symptoms of the infection include a rash, sore throat, muscle and joint aches, fever, chills and headache. It is spread by direct contact with a contagious person for an extended amount of time, usually considered to be more than four hours.

Classmates or those who had casual contact with Duvall were not considered to be at high risk of the infection, which can be transmitted through coughing, sneezing and sharing food or drink.

Duvall spent five days in the intensive care unit at UVa and was listed in critical condition for three of them. The day after he was moved out of ICU and into another room, Duvall contracted pneumonia.

``That was the first time I cried through the whole thing. I was so weak. I still couldn't walk or move, just completely immobilized,'' he said. ``And then they told me I had pneumonia and I really thought I was going to die. And it was so irrational, because they would have put me right back into intensive care. ... It just sounded so much worse.''

Duvall began a slow recovery - he spent most of his time watching the Winter Olympics and ``Live With Regis & Kathie Lee'' on television - and was not released from the hospital until Feb.18.

Duvall was forced to drop two of his four classes, but after spending a week at home, he returned to W&L. Duvall, the 6-foot-21/2 starting point guard for the Generals this season, had watched his weight drop from 170 pounds to 145.

``I looked in the mirror and almost died laughing,'' he said. ``I was so skinny and just looked pathetic. ... I remember the first day back at school I went to the gym to shoot a hoop and couldn't do that [shooting] motion. I went to do a layup and couldn't get the ball to the rim. It was so humbling.''

Duvall said he didn't fully regain his strength until the beginning of the summer and worked hard to get in shape for this season. He's averaging 4.5 assists, the best mark for a W&L player since 1982-83 when Bill Yates averaged 5.0 per game. Duvall also adds 5.9 points and 3.6 rebounds per game for the Generals, who are a surprising 7-7 overall and 3-5 in the Old Dominion Athletic Conference after going 9-15, 6-12 last season.

`It puts things in perspective'

Duvall, who transferred to W&L from Colby College in Waterville, Maine, said he owes a lot to basketball, possibly his life.

``If I hadn't played basketball, I would have just lay in bed and died because the trainer would have never called that morning, which kind of upsets me,'' he said.

``The treatment is pretty simple: massive doses of antibiotics. The question is whether you get it quick enough. That's why the mortality rate for the disease is so high. People think it's the flu.''

Duvall said doctors don't know how he got the infection, but during his stay at the UVa hospital they told him stories of others who had contracted meningitis, ``and they all involved people either dying or having something amputated.''

``It definitely brought attention to things,'' he said. ``One thing I think about a lot more is the health of my family. I also used to concern myself with how people thought about me more so than now. It puts things in perspective.''



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