From a Wheelchair to a Badminton Court: My One-Year GBS Logbook

Day 14: “Life in a Wheelchair”

I still remember writing this when everything felt uncertain.

“Today marked the 14th day of my fight against GBS. Doctors said those first 14 days were crucial—because after that, recovery begins. I had been doing physiotherapy, and Alhamdulillah, I was slightly improving. I still couldn’t stand or walk. Typing was hard, but I kept fighting, trying to re-educate my muscles.

Maybe life was giving me lessons for a new future.

It was a strange world: MRIs, NCV tests, neuropathic pain in my legs that wouldn’t let me sleep. Some corrupt doctors even told me I was going to die. But I fought back. Alhamdulillah, I was feeling better those days.

I rescheduled my flight to the US for August. I planned to take a medical release from SEVIS and do one online course that semester. I thought I’d need 2–3 more months to fully recover. I thanked everyone who took care of me and asked people to keep me in their prayers.

And I wrote something I truly believed, even in that darkness: every story has a positive side. I would be in Bangladesh for the next six months. “You got me here,” I told my people. “We’ll have fun, in sha Allah.”

Doctors predicted it might have been a reaction to a flu shot in the US—rare, one in a million. Guess what? I was that guy.

The most terrifying part wasn’t pain. It was the speed at which everything changed: last night you’re strong and healthy, and the next day you can’t even move without a wheelchair—worse than a 90-year-old man. That experience humbled me. It made me think I might build solutions someday from what I was living through.

Because we are nothing to boast about. A minute later, we can be nothing.”

Photo from that time.

Because of my flu vaccine in the USA (picture).

Feb 7, 2025: I walked alone without anyone’s help in front of my house road (100 meters) and took a selfie.

The Pen Test

Then there was handwriting. I couldn’t hold a pen properly. I couldn’t sign like I used to. Even now, in December, I still can’t write like before—but I would say it’s about 70% stable now.

My handwriting (Feb 23, 2025).

Walker (photo).

Eid-ul-Fitr, Slowed Down

Eid came, but I didn’t feel like me. GBS had a significant negative impact on my life. I felt like a YouTube video playing at 10× slower speed. I walked 10× slower. My productivity, my thoughts, everything felt slower. Life itself felt 10× slower.

I thought I could offer Eid prayer without a chair, but I was still using one. I asked people to pray for my full recovery.

Dec 29: One Year Ago, Everything Changed

Today is December 29. Today marks one year of my GBS experience. Last year, I came to Bangladesh just to enjoy winter vacation with family. I ate biriyani, winter pithas, and enjoyed time with them after coming from the USA. But before that—around 40 days earlier—I had taken COVID shots and flu shots in November.

On the night of December 28, I was shopping and meeting friends. Suddenly, I felt exhausted, like my legs were too tired to keep me standing. I came home and slept.

The next morning, December 29, I felt imbalanced. I thought it was just weakness. While having morning tea, the cup fell from my hands because my hand was shaking. I thought maybe it was some sickness.

Then I went to the bank. While signing, I noticed I couldn’t hold a pen properly. I couldn’t sign my documents the way I used to. I became cautious. I started thinking: is this a stroke?

I started doing MRIs and tests. And while I was doing those tests, my health kept degrading. I fell in the washroom and fractured my leg ligaments. My balance kept collapsing.

Over time, it got worse. I couldn’t walk properly, couldn’t climb stairs, couldn’t even feel my legs. I felt like a plush doll whose legs had broken—every time I tried to stand, I fell on the floor.

The emotional toll was crushing. My flight back to the USA was booked for January 14, 2025. I couldn’t think of anything else. Doctors were confused. Then I was forwarded to a neuroscience expert.

He examined me. He did electric shocks over my muscles (they call it the NCS test) and then told me: I had GBS.

They told me to book ICU care. If it went to my lungs and bronchi, I could die if I didn’t get proper ICU treatment in time. I was fully bedridden. My fingers rotated backward automatically. I was confused—no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t move them.

Doctors told me: 80% recover fully. 12–16% recover with some disabilities.

Then they talked about immunotherapy or another vaccine treatment. It would cost around USD 8,000 to 12,000–16,000. I didn’t have that money. I said it clearly: I don’t have it. They told me to keep faith in Allah.

And then the real struggle began.

The Physiotherapist Who Changed Everything

I was devastated. Everyone around me had conspiracies—everyone had their own theories, thoughts, and opinions. Then my physiotherapist arrived.

His role was groundbreaking. He motivated me, talked to me, and made me believe recovery was possible. Because I have an engineer and researcher mindset, I asked him a lot of questions. We discussed everything—his patients, other patients, how disability shapes life, how stroke patients live.

I learned about hemophilia, hyperkalemia, and many genetic diseases. I learned how people with disability live their lives.

And I couldn’t stop fighting. At first, the exercises were small: playing with balls, throwing them, pushing them. After around 21 days, I could stand again. After 28 days, I climbed stairs with the help of people.

I moved from a wheelchair to a walker. And then my real fight began. Those days were full of painkillers and daily physiotherapy sessions—almost two hours a day. So much pain, but I didn’t stop.

One day my therapist suggested I start typing again. I typed with the only two fingers I could move. In 10 days, my fingers recovered. I could type again.

I still remember January 28. Almost one month later, I took a rickshaw ride with my mother to a bank for paperwork. It was my first time outside after a month—sitting in a rickshaw, feeling the wind, feeling life again.

Probability, Faith, and a New Mindset

We value life and health so little that we take them for granted. But that is not true. Life is precious. In 2024, I had an advanced statistics course at Marshall University for my PhD. While learning, I understood how probability works—how dependencies work.

The flu vaccine said there is a 0.01% test of significance of being GBS in 20 million people… and I was that one person.

I missed my flight back to the USA and stayed on early authorized withdrawal for the whole year. I planned only 25 days of winter vacation. I have been here for a year.

I used to believe if you focus and do your work, you will achieve things. Straightforward. But as days passed, I realized it’s not always true. Luck exists. Probability exists. There are dependable events around us that can happen or may happen—we just don’t calculate them.

This made me a stronger believer. As a Muslim, I believe in Allah, and I believe Allah controls everything. It reduced my load. I accepted my fate. It was mentally liberating.

I was near death, near the deathbed. I saw how helpless an 80-year-old bedridden person can be. I felt that. I felt how cursed disability can be.

I think GBS happened to me for a reason—maybe to give something to this world. Maybe I don’t know now. But after 10 years, maybe I will look back and connect the dots—like Steve Jobs said.

My parents wanted me to become a doctor when I was a child. I tried, but I never could get admitted into medical college because of how competitive Bangladesh is. Now I truly understand how important researchers are. There are many diseases around us. Without researchers, no one invents cures. Without entrepreneurs, those cures never become affordable or accessible. Doctors are on the front line—we only see them. We don’t see the ecosystem enablers.

This GBS refined my mindset. I am almost 28 now. Another 28 years, if I am fortunate, will belong to science. Having experienced mortality and paralysis, I know the fragility of what we take for granted—the ability to move, to contribute, to be heard. I want to conduct research that leaves the world more just, more accessible, more thoughtful.

Where I Am Now

In almost six months, I recovered about 60–70%. Now I still have muscle issues. Some muscles are weaker. Sometimes my hands or some muscles shake due to imbalance. I still do physiotherapy sometimes. There was a two-day event where I didn’t eat on time and my full body started shaking and I couldn’t stop—maybe some pre-diabetic situation—because GBS made my muscles weaker.

I would say I am about 80% recovered now. I don’t know whether I will be fully recovered or not. Or whether I am within that 16% who remain disabled.

I still pray sitting on a chair. I hope I can do tashahud in prayer again (in this position, the worshiper kneels on the floor, usually on a prayer mat. Legs: typically sitting on the left foot laid flat on the ground, while the right foot is upright with toes facing forward toward Mecca—called Iftirash. Hands on the thighs or knees). My legs are still weak.

I gained a lot of weight during this time. I started dieting to reduce weight.

The Badminton Chapter

And here is the part that feels like a miracle to me: I started playing badminton about a month ago. Now I play every day for at least 30–45 minutes. I can feel the goodness. I can feel improvement.

A few weeks ago, I met someone who worked in pharma supply chain. He was amazed and motivated to see me. He said: “I have seen a lot of people die in GBS. You gave me different motivation. My belief has changed. You are a good case study.”

That sentence stayed with me. So I decided to share a year logbook of GBS through this blog—if it helps someone, if it provokes thought in someone, then it’s worth it.

Happy New Year, and keep me in your prayers.

Photos from badminton days.

A year ago, I couldn’t stand. Today, I can play again.