Memories from Primary School

When life gets you down, just take a deep breath and keep your head up high and look toward the sun and the bright blue sky

Each breath is a reminder of the limitations imposed by my lungs, but also of the strength within me to persevere. My primary school days stand out as a pivotal chapter filled with unique challenges and memorable experiences. These early years were marked by a delicate balance between managing my health and finding joy in the innocence of childhood.

In 1985, we moved back to Cape Town, and my medical journey took a new turn. I began seeing Dr. Jan Vermeulen, a pediatrician at Panorama, who became like a father figure to me. His compassionate care and unwavering support were a source of comfort and strength, and we still keep in touch to this day. Despite all efforts and treatments, my health continued to be a struggle, and I was eventually diagnosed with chronic lung disease due to multiple severe viral infections. 

Panorama Hospital became like my second home. All I ever found myself doing was playing catch-up, always catching up with homework; that was my life. When I was lucky enough to attend school, I had to bring my nebulizer. A nebulizer is a medical device that converts liquid medication into a fine mist, which is then inhaled through a tube and mouthpiece or mask into the lungs.

I had an amazing friend who would accompany me to the secretary’s office when I needed to nebulize. We would plug it in, sit on the floor, and have a lekker 20-minute chat until the medication was finished and I was breathing a bit easier. Despite the roggel—a wheezing sound I had 24/7—and being teased for sounding like Darth Vader, my friend’s support made those moments bearable.

School life was a mix of challenges and delights. The limitations imposed by my lung condition often meant I couldn't participate in certain activities. However, I found comfort in my studies and the friendships I made along the way. My teachers were incredibly supportive, always understanding of my situation and encouraging me to do my best despite the obstacles.

During break a time of both joy and caution, while my friends ran and played, I often had to sit out or engage in less strenuous activities. Yet, these moments were never lonely; my friends would sit with me, sharing stories and laughter. Their companionship was a testament to the kindness and empathy that children are capable of, and it made those early years all the more special.

Reading became my favourite subject if I can call it that, offering a creative outlet and a way to escape into different worlds. I remember spending hours lost in books, traveling to far-off places, and living through the characters' adventures. 

The saying, "All a child needs is love," rang true in my life. My parents played a huge role, as did my older sister and younger brother. I was never treated any differently; we were all treated the same. My parents left no stone unturned when it came to my illness. My mother, with her nursing background, might have been a little tougher on me, knowing that the world wouldn't treat me differently just because I had an illness. If I was sick on a school day, she would say, "If you're not feeling well, phone me, and I'll come fetch you." But if I called, she would often look at me and say, "Tanya, you look fine. Let's try this again tomorrow." She had to be tough because she knew the real world wouldn't make allowances for my illness. She would always say, "Tanya, don't let your illness define you as a person."

At some point, I was more in the hospital than at home. My mom, working in the labour ward at Panorama, transferred to the pediatrics side so she could spend more time with me. My dad would bring my sister and brother every evening to visit. We would play UNO and Rummy Cub until the bell rang, signaling the end of visiting hours. They would leave, and I would stand at the window in my ward, waving goodbye with tears streaming down my face. I understood that my siblings also needed my parents and that going home was their time.

I was six when I was taught to stay alone in the hospital. My granny would come to visit during the day, spending hours playing games, reading, and encouraging me to sleep while she sat by my side. The nursing staff got to know her so well that they started calling her Ouma, and she even received lunch at 12. My parents did everything for me, and I will always be forever grateful.

These primary school days, though filled with challenges, also shaped my resilience and determination. Every obstacle was met with the support of my family, the care of dedicated medical professionals, and the kindness of friends and teachers. These experiences taught me the value of perseverance, the importance of community, and the power of hope.

As I share my story through this blog, I invite you to join me in revisiting these moments. Together, we'll explore the highs and lows, the laughter and the tears, and the unwavering hope that has carried me through. This is just the beginning of "A New Breath," a journey of resilience and inspiration.

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