my cellphone every half hour.
“Don’t be a worry-whale, Mom, I’m having a great time.”
“Moving to another venue – Dyl’s place with the Plett boys.”
This last text had me concerned. “Jen, how the hell are you getting there? I will lift you guys, give me two minutes to throw on some clothes and come get you.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, we’re walking.”
“Walking! What!? How? Jen, you can’t walk … your asthma … I’m coming to get you. Leaving now!”
“Mom, please don’t do that, it’s embarrassing. I am good … I’m getting a piggy-back … Jillie just pulled up, she says she will lift us.”
I sat up waiting until Jenna called me to collect her and Liv at 5 am. It took two full days of sleep for her to recover, but she was so animated and full of stories that it felt worth it. Over time we learned to grab those moments with both hands and be grateful for them. We learned to take the good days and moments as they presented themselves, no matter the circumstances.
We got a glimpse of healthy Jen again. But it didn’t last long. Within three days she was in deep trouble, battling to breathe. We rushed back to the emergency rooms. I vacillated constantly between convincing myself she would be fine and feeling overcome with absolute dread. I couldn’t wait to get home to Cape Town.
Jenna’s journal
Monday, 2nd January 2012
Plettenberg Bay
I had to be nebulised today! It was flippin scary – turns out I should have been taking prednisone for about a week already. I have never been this bad before, I have such a tight and sore chest. I felt as if a giant fist was in the centre of my chest and squeezing hard.
I feel better now – it’s been about six hours since I have been on the nebuliser and that feeling has eased – although I must say I’m nowhere near optimum or even vaguely normal breath levels. The asthma has been awful this past year, worse in the last three months and definitely at its worst these last two weeks. Hopefully my new medication combo – Nasonex, prednisone, still two puffs twice daily of Sereflo, Fexo and Ventolin as necessary will bring me back to normal. We are going to bed now, I am sleeping in Mom and Dad’s room so that they can monitor my breathing … Tomorrow night we are going to a bonfire at Solar Beach! For now, sleep! It’s 12:06 am, night xxx
Tuesday, 3rd January (noon) 2012
I just re-awoke, and we sit debating what to do with my day. It’s windy. There is going to be an excellent swell today – Nik mentioned it last week – so Kristi is champing at the bit to get to the beach. We have eight days left. Liv and I are going to get in as much jolling as possible. I’m getting nervous for the bonfire tonight, which is a bit silly, but I don’t feel great. I could go to the beach today, but I was hoping for a Grand Caesar salad and to wander around town a little bit. I should go get ready … seriously. I can hardly be bothered standing up though. Sigh … I’m going to do that.
Monday, 9th January 2012
Plett, doctors’ rooms
We are sitting in a very air-conditioned waiting room between appointments. Anyway, yesterday we went up the river. I sat on the beach in the shade. It was boiling hot and I got out of breath if I tried to tan so I’m starting to think that perhaps extreme heat/extreme cold could trigger or exacerbate it. A troop of vervet monkeys descended from the forested river banks to join us on our tiny beach. They were absolutely adorable. The male silverback-looking one gave us an unasked-for display of his bright blue balls. The boys and Kristi went knee-boarding and we headed home at around 4 pm with the boat weighed down by all of us to a point where its top speed only just rivalled that of a snail. Anyways, at present I sit in the car outside Robberg Pharmacy waiting for Mom.
Tuesday, 10th January 2012
Last night in Plett
I’m sitting on my bed mourning the loss of my holiday. OK that’s a little dramatic … but it is our last night.
CHAPTER 12
The slow road to diagnosis
On Wednesday, the 11th of January we drove home, uneasy and apprehensive, to Cape Town. The next morning Kristi and I bustled about sorting through school uniforms and getting her ready for the term. Jen and I had an appointment at the asthma clinic later that morning. We walked up the clinic stairs, slowly, and pushed open the doors. Jen flopped onto a chair in reception, gasping for air, clearly struggling. She also had chest pain. Her lung function test, though, showed up as normal. How could that be? The doctor was perplexed.
“This is not asthma,” she said. “There is no way this can be asthma. You need a physician.”
“We were at the physician nine months ago,” I said. “We saw Dr VC. We have already been.”
“I think you need to go back, Gabi. It’s good that Dr VC already has all Jenna’s baseline tests. It’s advisable to go back.” She phoned Kathy, our GP, and requested that she get us an appointment with the physician. “It is urgent,” I heard her say.
We secured an appointment with Dr VC for 11 am on Monday morning, so it would be a weekend of apprehension. When I look at Jen’s journal, she was more worried about her school work than her health.
Jenna’s Journal
Saturday, 14th January 2012
School on Wednesday! I need to revise my maths and read my AP books.
On Sunday night I barely slept. I tried to stay calm, to convince myself that everything would be OK, but I didn’t have a good feeling.
Dr VC’s forehead puckered with concern. He asked Jenna to describe what she was feeling.
“It feels like someone is sitting on my chest and I just can’t get enough air in,” Jen explained. “It can really hurt. Not a ‘burny’ sore, more like a deep ache from inside. And sometimes there are sharp pains. I can’t run, or walk fast, or far, without getting completely out of breath. Sometimes I’m out of breath just standing still.”
Dr VC then asked Jen a lot of questions, beginning with “How are you when you wake up in the morning?” and persisting until he had a full and detailed history of the last nine months. Then he sent us downstairs for more chest X-rays and full bloods. He did a thorough physical examination and another ECG in his rooms. Jen described her extreme fatigue and the different kinds of fatigue, the light-headedness and severity of her breathlessness. Listening to it all in one sitting was hectic for me, but Jen was so matter-of-fact about it. These hideous symptoms had quietly and insidiously just become part of her life.
Jenna
