Bold warning: a routine ski holiday can turn into a life-or-death medical scare in seconds. That shocking truth is the through-line of this story, recast here with fresh wording while preserving every key detail and outcome.
A Queensland woman awakens from a coma after meningitis and septic shock struck during a ski trip in Japan.
Anna Gallo’s voice remains unusually clear for someone who was within reach of death less than two weeks ago.
It is 10 a.m. in Tokyo when she answers the call.
“A nurse has just come in, sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay, she’ll come back later.”
Since waking from a coma on February 10, this tightly tucked hospital bed has become Anna’s entire world.
Just weeks earlier, the 24-year-old and her partner, Liam McDonald, were enjoying a whirlwind visit to Japan—full of ski runs, kimono-wearing moments, and karaoke sessions.
It began as a dream trip, and then the last night changed everything.
“We were meant to catch the plane home that night, but everything started to go downhill fast,” Anna recalls.
From ski slopes to a terrifying diagnosis
The young couple had retreated to their Tokyo hotel when Anna woke in the night of February 5, shivering. The tremors soon evolved into intense shivering and then uncontrollable vomiting.
“I actually fainted on the toilet, which my partner woke up to,” Anna says. “He thought I was basically dead, but he brought me back.”
At first they blamed food poisoning and clung to the hope they could still make their flight.
But by 4 p.m.—just four hours before departure—Liam spotted something alarming: a red rash spreading across Anna’s skin.
That rash signaled septic shock—an extreme, life-threatening reaction where the body's immune system starts attacking its own organs.
The two-hour window
Liam called for help and an ambulance arrived. Anna was delirious and agitated, requiring restraints to keep from harming herself on the ride to the hospital.
Her account is pieced together from the memories of others who survived the ordeal.
“The ambulance crew told us that if Liam hadn’t gotten me there within two hours, I wouldn’t be here,” she says.
Doctors at Tokyo’s National Center for Global Health and Medicine diagnosed meningococcal B infection that had rapidly progressed to meningitis and septic shock.
Anna slipped into a three-day coma, sustained by machines and intravenous antibiotics. She remembers nothing of those days, though her mother and father carry the recollections vividly.
Silence at 30,000 feet
Back in Australia, Anna’s parents—Ghis and Adrian Gallo from Atherton—waited in real time for updates as their daughter fought for life.
Her partner kept them informed with brief messages between hospital trips.
“She’s sick.”
“She’s getting worse.”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
The final call came as they stood at Cairns International Airport, ready to fly to their daughter’s bedside.
“The doctor told us her blood pressure was dangerously low, she’d had a blood transfusion, and she needed to be intubated,” Ghis recalls. “We asked if she would be okay. He said, ‘I don’t know.’”
The Gallos spent eight hours crossing the Pacific, praying their daughter would still be alive when they landed.
“We must have said to each other a hundred times, ‘Is this real?’” Ghis says. “It just didn’t feel real.”
An empty ICU bed
Arriving in Tokyo, the news grew grimmer. A doctor warned that Anna might never wake from the coma. If she did, there was a high risk of lasting brain injury.
“I was furious they even suggested it,” Ghis says. “But I suppose they had to prepare us.”
Anna lay there, tubes and wires everywhere, a stark ER-like scene as she fought for life.
The next day, when the Gallos returned to the ICU, they found Anna’s room empty—but not because she’d died. She had been moved from intensive care to a high-dependency ward.
“She was sitting up in bed, eyes open, tube removed,” Ghis says. “She was awake.”
Australia’s vaccine gap
Today Anna is preparing to go home, though she cannot walk yet because necrotic lesions—areas of dead or dying tissue—dot her feet and legs, serving as painful reminders of how close she came to losing the battle.
A detail Anna often revisits: she had been vaccinated for meningococcal disease in school, but not for type B, the strain that infected her.
Queensland has offered a free, state-funded meningococcal C vaccination since 2003 and later expanded to a four-in-one vaccine covering A, C, W, and Y strains in 2017. Free type B vaccination using the Bexsero brand began rolling out in March 2024 in Queensland, with South Australia as another example of a similar program.
Paul Griffin, director of infectious diseases at Mater Health Services, emphasizes that Anna’s story underscores the need for a consistent national vaccination program. “Because the disease is relatively rare, people perceive the risk as low,” he notes. “But the consequences can be devastating. We need as many people protected as possible.”
Japan isn’t a hot spot for this disease, either. Between 2003 and 2020, Japan averaged fewer than five confirmed cases per year, while Australia saw 109 cases in 2024 alone.
Homebound but hopeful
A week and a half after waking, Anna’s hair is neatly brushed and plaited. Brain scans show no obvious damage. The scars from necrosis will fade slowly, but the experience has left a permanent mark.
She is alive and has started a new job at Griffith University on the Gold Coast, aiming to return to work as soon as she can.
“I’m just so grateful,” she says. “I’ll definitely cherish every day from now on.”
And this is where things get personal: what could have been a fatal misfortune became a testament to resilience, swift medical intervention, and the gaps in preventive healthcare that still need attention. Could a broader national vaccination effort have changed the outcome for Anna? And what does that mean for public health policy today? Share your thoughts in the comments: do you support expanding free type B vaccination nationwide, or do you think resources should be prioritized differently?
