Being Peta. Peta Margetts
to her own room. She missed the company of her bright bedside companion.
Peta had said on a few occasions prior to this episode that she had a headache. It was only in the week after the stroke that I learned how severe these headaches had been — so bad she needed to go to bed and hold her head! Right from the early stages after diagnosis, we had been told not to take Panadol or other pain relief as it can mask other symptoms. Peta had adhered to these rules and just put up with the pain.
Peta had simply accepted that pain was part of her illness. She was told in no uncertain terms that she was not to endure this kind of pain. It wasn’t normal and it wasn’t typical of chemotherapy treatment.
On Saturday, Justine did an amazing thing: she drove to RCH with Ellie. This was Jud’s very first venture driving to the big smoke. She even tackled the freeway! Pete was delighted to see her sisters, and they were relieved to see that Peta was still herself, still smiling and okay. Jud returned with Yome the following day. This was the day that Peta would finally farewell her hair. Up until now she had managed to hang on to her hair, even though she had long ago been promised it would go. Our room was quite a hot box, though, even at this time of year, and Peta was very hot and sweaty. The long strands of thinning hair were annoying her terribly. Yome, being the very prepared nurse that she was, had a pair of scissors in her bag. She and Jud were only too happy to trim what was left of the finery on top. There was a serious gathering of siblings in the bathroom and Peta’s makeover was complete. She looked pretty good with a stubbly head of hair. This hairstyle was so much better for Peta. She could now put her head on the pillow without the annoying shed of hair. Peta had only been bothered by the large balding patches in her hair, not the hair loss itself, which was never an issue for her.
On Saturday night, a tall, young, female doctor came and sat on the end of Peta’s bed. The doctor confirmed what we had already suspected: that Peta had suffered a recoverable stroke. The stroke had been on the left side of the brain. It was thought that the Methotrexate used in her chemo was the likely culprit, although it could have been any one of a number of drugs.
I slept on the bench next to Peta’s bed so I could watch her. I was constantly terrified. Peta’s speech would intermittently slow. Her face would contort and her fingers would twist. This continued until the Monday. Peta had one of the neuro doctors so fascinated he whipped out his mobile phone to video the contortions in her face. At least Peta knew when it was happening now and could laugh about how funny she sounded. She also enjoyed my cutting up her food, toddler style, and making choo choo sounds as I fed her. I stayed in Peta’s room for most of that week, even though there was a room available for me over the road. Things were too uncertain for me to sleep elsewhere. Later on in the week, I checked in to Ronald Mac House, but I stayed with my girl until ward closing time each night and was back again first thing in the morning, usually before she was awake.
It is fair to say that Peta could have gone just a little bit crazy in this room. I did my best to entertain her, and I spent my time parading from one side of the room to the other and lounging in the chair or on the long bench. Peta’s choices were far more limited: in bed, or out of it. The pigeons on the opposite window ledges were Peta’s amusement. She even did a painting depicting the two of us as pigeons — the conniving type. She saw them as opportunistic flying rats, always looking for a sly opportunity to attack. She would watch them and try to predict when they would make their move. She even gave them all names, like Sly Syd.
It was around this time that Micka, our Challenge support person in the hospital, first got a glimpse of the real Peta. There was some deliberation about what DVDs to watch over the weekend. Peta was quite the movie connoisseur, so it had to be a considered selection every time. Micka had brought Peta a list of titles so she could pick some movies to help ease the boredom over the weekend. He took up a position on the bench as Pete perused the thousands of titles on the list. After much — and I mean much — thought, Pete chose 27 Dresses, but it was the in-depth discussion about the merits of Mean Girls, and perhaps Peta’s comment ‘Suck on that!’, that gave Micka his first clue. ‘Did you just say, “Suck on that!”?’ Micka now knew Peta was not the shy flower he may have thought. Sorry, Micka.
Susie, the art therapist, provided plenty of art materials for Peta to entertain herself with. Other than that, there wasn’t much on offer, as Peta was limited by an IV pole and was very susceptible to infection. The good old iPod was the only thing that worked. Reading material had lost its appeal. Even Bleak House, which Peta had grown to love, just didn’t have any attraction, as Pete wasn’t able to retain any valuable quotes for her exams. The eighth floor was one very long straight line, so even going for a walk provided very little variation — just a long, slow walk, down one side of the corridor and back up the other side. Pete thought it would have been fantastic for trolley races, though.
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Wednesday 28 October 2009
Just when Peta had pretty much gone crazy through sheer boredom, she had a lovely surprise. Her school vice principal, Jason Scott, brought her school friends to visit. Claire, Jane, Michael and Eli were a lovely diversion for her, and they came bearing lots of good wishes from classmates and teachers. It was the best thing for Peta. Jason delighted in telling us how proud he had been when some of Peta’s classmates had volunteered to donate blood after learning of Peta’s frequent transfusions. It was good for Peta’s friends to see what the hospital experience was like for her. For the first time, they were able to see what she endured as an inpatient.
One of the things Peta had been occupied with since her diagnosis was her Beaded Journey, a string provided by the Koala Foundation that is given to all of the kids after their diagnosis. Each string had the person’s name in blocks and a bead that signified the initial diagnosis, as well as beads for blood tests, lumbar punctures, chemo, bone marrow aspirates, special occasions, clinic visits — pretty much everything to do with the patient’s individual journey. Peta’s was full of cars, as her journey was one of constant travel, along with masses of blood tests, white chemo beads and red beads for all of her transfusions. It was growing rapidly and it showed her friends exactly how full-on this journey was.
After ten days on the ward, Peta was feeling much better. We were given a pass to go downstairs, where we had an hour in the hospital garden. This was heaven. We sat in the sun with our backs resting against the brick wall. Peta put her head on my shoulder and just let the sun do its best. The roses were out and it wasn’t too hot. For Peta, it was a special moment of freedom: no IV as a companion meant it was a chance to get around unaided and go unnoticed. One quiet hour of freedom. While in the garden we chatted to a fellow resident of Ronald Mac House with whom I had met. Her sixteen-year-old son had been revived after suffering a heart attack. Peta felt for this young man and wished them well. She had no concept of the seriousness of the event that she had just suffered herself.
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