Читать книгу Get me to 21 - Gabi Lowe - Страница 20

Straight after the hike we were back at our GP, and this time we agreed Jen should go to a specialised asthma clinic. Off we went, detailed doctor’s letter in hand, and a thorough history for our first appointment. On paper it looked like asthma, but yet again Jenna’s lung function test was good. It didn’t make any sense. This “red herring” that kept throwing everyone off track is something that happens with pulmonary hypertension. It was obvious that Jen was battling for breath, but it did not reflect in her lung function tests. How did that make any sense? The asthma clinic armed us with a flow chart and blow machine so that Jen could track her lung function twice a day for a month. We needed to see if there was a trend emerging. Meantime, she now had two pumps to ease the symptoms.

It was June 2011 when a bundle of chaotic energy came tumbling into our lives. “Aniko the Australian” had landed. Blonde, busty, with big blue eyes and a distinctive gravelly voice, Aniko fitted perfectly between our two girls in age and personality. “Koko Pops” or “Ko-Ko”, as we affectionately called her, was Jenna’s Grade 10 exchange student from Sydney. She was to live with us for three months. Natalie and Shirl were in rehabilitation in Boston, and Jenna was supposedly on the right medication. The timing was perfect. Aniko was exactly the delightful distraction our family needed. Uncomplicated, boisterous, messy and fun-loving, she had the alter ego of a golden retriever. She moved effortlessly between Kristi and Jen. When Jen needed some downtime the boisterous Aniko could be found giggling with Kristi in her bedroom. They couldn’t have been more different and yet the three of them became firm friends, a tight trio.

The sadness that had been in the house since Natalie’s diagnosis shifted a bit and Jen appeared to have stabilised, or was seemingly not getting any worse. The intensity of watching, listening and being on constant alert had lessened, and we settled into a new routine with our “third child” in the house. Within weeks Aniko had a black eye from a stray hockey ball and had turned my house upside down, but she was a constant source of entertainment, joy and laughter.

Determined to make sure that Aniko loved Cape Town, Jen introduced her to all her friends, and we hosted heaps of get-togethers in between the ordinary business of school and homework. Despite her “asthma”, academically Jenna was shooting the lights out. A valuable member of the school Debating team and top of her class, she took school work seriously but very much in her stride. Our weekends were jam-packed with social arrangements and “touristy” outings as we showed Aniko the Mother City. Signal Hill, Clifton, Table Mountain, The Waterfront, Kalk Bay Harbour, Hout Bay, Chapman’s Peak, Cape Point, the West Coast flowers, Kirstenbosch Garden, markets and restaurants, and even shark-cage diving outside Hermanus. You name it, we did it. And we loved being tourists in our own city. On Aniko’s 16th birthday, Kristi and I baked a huge cake in the shape of Table Mountain. We decorated it with the Australian and South African flags. If Jen was too tired to participate, Kristi and Aniko would fill the gap. There was so much going on that it was easy for Jenna to hide the fact that she didn’t have the same levels of energy as everyone else.

In mid-July Jen and I returned to the asthma clinic, taking with us her carefully completed lung function chart. “Ah,” they said, “this makes slightly more sense now.” Her lung function was surprisingly good, but her lung capacity appeared different at different times of the day. A confusing picture, but one that implied the possibility of asthma. We were so relieved to have a diagnosis at last … something that could be treated. Pumps, cortisone and meds were prescribed, together with a detailed description of how to manage the asthma and her meds. She would feel better soon, we were assured. What a relief. Jen started her routine and stuck to it. She was desperate to get her energy back. Her breath back.

Meanwhile, Shirley and Natalie were having a rough time in Boston. Stuart planned a trip so that he could help them transition from rehabilitation to housing near the hospital, but instead when he arrived, Natalie was admitted back into Mass General. It was a gruelling visit and he came home quite shattered by what he’d witnessed. Natalie’s halo brace was made up of a plastic vest that immobilised her spine and head. The metal ring surrounding her head was attached by pins to her skull, and though this was not painful for her, wearing the brace was hard. It resulted in complications that made her proton radiation treatment an extremely dangerous exercise. This was the time Natalie reported as the darkest of her journey. I would lie awake at night willing relief for her through the days and weeks of relentless vomiting she endured, praying for protection against the very real risk of choking because of the halo. I tried not to imagine the terror that Natalie and Shirley were going through. I felt useless.

Running with Mary helped me. She suggested we train for the Knysna half-marathon. It was good to have a goal, and we used it as an additional way to raise funds for Natalie. If Natalie could overcome the extremes of pain she was in, then I (a useless runner) could push myself to run a half-marathon. Helping with fundraising and managing admin for Natalie’s Circle of Love was now a normal part of my working day. It helped to know that my efforts and the kindness of others were chipping away the hospital costs, and making a difference to Natalie, Shirley and our whole family.

In July we needed to start finalising the details for Jenna’s scholar exchange to Australia. Aniko was leaving at the end of August and then it would be Jen’s turn to fly to Australia and live with Aniko’s family for three months. It would be Jen’s first trip away from home alone, and she was really excited. The girls planned a farewell picnic for Aniko in Kirstenbosch Garden.

Two weeks later we were packing Jen off to join Ko-Ko in Australia. The flight to Sydney was hideous and long. Up at altitude Jenna began to feel sicker and sicker. Her chest hurt; sharp shooting pains. She arrived 24 hours later filled with flu-like symptoms and a full-blown chest infection. Margo phoned me from Sydney.

“We’ve got Jen,” she said. “It’s so wonderful to see her, Gabs, but she got off the plane feeling really sick. Don’t worry, though, she seems to be getting better, slowly. She’d like to chat to you.”

It was so good to hear Jen’s voice, but I was worried. Asthma and a chest infection are not a good combo. “Don’t worry, Mom,” Jen reassured me. “I think I just caught a bug on the plane. Margo is looking after me.” I was disappointed that her arrival in Sydney was marred by flu and I could tell she was being brave. I was glad she was staying with family for the first week.

A week later she moved in with Aniko. She had her own room – “Mom, it’s the best room in the house, I love it here” – and took the train in to school every day. She was loving her first taste of real independence away from home, but in a safe environment and with reliable public transport. It brought a freedom she hadn’t experienced before.

Back home it was Kristi’s last term of Grade 7 and she was really coming into her own. She missed the laughter of Jen and Aniko, but she had many diverse groups of friends, and her beloved horses and dogs. At home we had Prince and Sahara and she was fostering puppies every weekend. Plus she had the full attention of Stu and me with no distractions. Kristi blossomed. She had an impressive growth spurt, in every way. She literally grew about four inches taller in the 12 weeks that Jen was away. It made me cognisant of just how big a shadow Jenna cast. Kristi needed her time in the sun and we gently found a different rhythm, just the three of us at home.

In October 2011, halfway through Jenna’s three-month exchange, I decided to book a flight to Sydney to visit. I wanted to spend Jen’s 17th birthday with her, to visit Craig and the family, and, truth be told, I also wanted to check on Jen’s health. I was so looking forward to seeing them all.

I was shocked. The severity of Jenna’s breathlessness was noticeable. A short burst of running for a train or bus wasn’t possible; in fact, even a fast, flat walk was a challenge. Jen was worse, not better. I phoned home and spoke to the asthma clinic. We discussed it and upped the dosage of her meds and her pumps.

Jen insisted that the increase in meds made her feel a little better and I tried to put the anxiety about her health to one side. We had a happy two weeks together, taking the ferry to visit Manly, exploring the city of Sydney, visiting the zoo, having lunch at the Hardrock Café in Sydney Harbour, and visiting the aquarium and the Sydney Opera House. Jen took me to Ko-Ko’s school and showed me with pride her tidy bedroom and her favourite spot to buy red velvet cupcakes and fudge.

Jen was happy, she was so happy, fulfilled and confident and loving being independent, finding her way in the big wide world. I realised she was growing up, that things would be different when she got home. She would need more independence. We also discussed what she wanted to do with her life, what she wanted to study and projects she could be involved in. At the time that I booked my trip to Sydney it was an expensive extravagance but, looking back, I am so glad I went. I cherish those memories.

Back in Cape Town, Stuart, Kristi and I worked hard for the three months that Jen was away. Stuart now had seven print media titles under his watchful eye, including some of the biggest niche-market titles in the country, and the business was simultaneously launching many other exciting projects and websites. He worked long and demanding hours, but he loved it. Upfront Marketing still had a good line-up of clients and of course my efforts raising funds for Natalie’s Circle of Love were ongoing.

After months of uncertainty and delays, we got the best news from Shirley. Natalie had managed to complete treatment and, mercifully, the halo brace could now be removed. Based on the final scans, her doctors declared the sweetest four words in the world: “No evidence of disease”. She still had a lot of recovery and recuperation to do, but after nine hectic months away, she was coming home, chordoma-free. Their homecoming was a huge moment and it was an indescribable joy to be reunited.

Kristi, about to finish her Grade 7 exams, was itching to get to senior school. While Jen was on the other side of the world, Kristi was finding her mojo as a young teen, going to parties, spending hours on the phone, planning movies and having friends over. She was growing into a tall teenager with a fun-loving easy manner. Her long blonde hair and legs reminded me of a gangly palomino horse. She was 14 going on 20, or so she thought.

It was nearing the end of the school year, and time for the school fair. The fair marked the end of the year and the start of the summer holidays and held the promise of the much anticipated Grade 7 disco. Even more exciting was the opportunity for those Grade 6 and 7 pupils who could sing to perform live on the main stage, complete with microphones, backing tracks and a professionally rigged sound system. Kristi had been asked to sing and we were thrilled. During all the years of “carpool karaoke” it had become obvious that Kristi was talented, but this was the first time she was brave enough to sing in public.

It was a balmy summer’s evening, with hundreds of proud parents quaffing beers and gin and tonics in the marquee on the field. We couldn’t quite believe that our “baby” was about to graduate from junior school. It was at this fair that a good friend of ours, well-known South African rugby commentator Matt Pearce, first heard Kristi sing and it made a lasting impression on him. It was Matt’s belief in Kristi’s talent that would lead to the release of her first single 18 months later.

Matt and I had a special connection around live music. Shortly after I turned 40, I joined a rock band as a lead vocalist with my talented counterpart Jules. We joke that it was the optimal way to have a mid-life crisis! But it probably doesn’t count because Stuart and the girls were my biggest fans and supporters. Matt was one of many friends who used to support us. When he was there, we would summon him up on stage to sing “Summer of 69” or “Mustang Sally”. His gravelly voice would bellow forth while Jules and I belted out the harmonies. Jen and Kristi begged to be allowed to come and watch. If there was a Friday or Saturday gig, they were sometimes allowed. They would come with Granny and Grampa, who would then take them home early for a sleepover.

The night of the school fair was one of those perfect nights, complete with a full moon, warm air and gentle breeze. The atmosphere was festive, with the youngsters dancing and cheering each other on as each new performer took the stage. Matt and I were right up there at the front of the audience, enjoying the show and reminiscing about our old band days, when Kristi stepped up to the microphone. Holding the mic in her hand, eyes closed, a soft breeze blowing her golden hair, she began to sing. She had chosen Adele’s “Someone Like You” and as this hauntingly beautiful young female voice echoed across the field, slowly it went quiet. People stopped, turned and walked towards the stage. Everyone was captivated.

Matt turned to me. “Wow, Gabs,” he said. “She is really good. She is properly good.”

We had just witnessed what had until then been a secret talent.