I don't often climb on a bandbox or even get too vocal about anything. Today, however, I want to share something that is so very close to my heart. It's a tragic story, one that I pray no one else ever has to live through. For this reason, I am telling the tale and hoping everyone takes but a moment to read and make an informed decision for their own children.
This is in honor of you Jodi Lynn Kinney, you left us eleven years ago today, and there isn't a moment I don't remember your laughter and sweet face. You will always be that 16 year old girl....
Forever Young
"When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Auntie Patti." Giggling
and covered in flour, Jodi continued mixing the cookie dough. Just five years
old, she needed a chair to reach the counter. My apron wrapped around her tiny
waist twice and fell past her toes. That memory, so vivid and clear, brings
fresh tears streaming down my face. It is one of more than a hundred memories I
think of, as I sit by her side in this hospital room.
My mind flashed to another hospital room, sixteen years ago. The air was thick
with excited anticipation. Standing next to the doctor, I was holding my breath
as my sister, Cindi, pushed hard one last time. Her husband, Don, whispered
encouragement as first the head, then the shoulders and finally our little Jodi
made her appearance. I was the very first to lay eyes on her. I remember the
shocked silence that followed the doctor's announcement, "It's a
girl." Our Jodi was the first girl to be born in her dads' family in
generations. We cried tears of joy when she was placed in her parent's arms. It
was that very moment Jodi captured a place in my heart that would last forever.
Pulled from my memories, the nurse parts the curtains and sticks her head in.
She sees the tears running down my cheeks and she mutters something about
giving me a few more moments. I'm alone with my young niece. My sister had left
for home to tell Jamie that her big sister was dead and she asked me to sit
with Jodi as long as I could. The first to see her when she came into the
world, I am now the last to sit with her after she has gone. Looking down at
her face, I realize the fun-loving, giggling spirit that was "my
Jodi" is no longer here. Letting go of her hand, I wipe away a stray piece
of golden hair and silently say goodbye. The nurse reappears with tears in her
eyes and takes my arm. I leave without looking back.
I don't remember Jodi ever crying. A child filled with laughter and a dimpled
smile that could light the darkest room, Jodi was a practical joker. As she
grew, the jokes became more elaborate; she just loved it when she was able to
"get you". A favorite trick was to tie elastic around the sink
sprinkler. When the water was turned on, the sprinkler would spray the victim
square in the face. Immediately squeals of laughter were heard from the next
room and Jodi would yell, "Gotcha!" Another infamous trick was to
hide with the universal remote, changing channels when you thought you were
alone. It could be eerie in the late night hours.
Jodi was a petite blond with fair skin. We used to compare arms to see whose
skin was lighter or transparent, as we called it. Though she was my sister's
daughter, we inherited the same complexion, crooked little finger and stubby
toes from my maternal grandmother. We also shared a love of writing and would
spend endless hours on the computer, sharing the pieces we wrote; talking about
re-writes, critiques and point of views. I remember a piece she wrote for
English class. A teacher assigned theme titled, "What I want to be when I
grow up." Jodi had a tough time with this. Try as I might to encourage her
to add more detail to her essay, Jodi stood firm writing, "When I grow up,
I simply want to be the best person that I can be. If I can be all that I am
capable of and all that I am meant to be, then I will be successful and
happy." Disappointed with the B the teacher gave her paper, Jodi felt it
said all that was needed and was proud of the finished product.
Yesterday she was a sixteen-year-old junior in high school, working at the
local grocery store and dating a wonderful young man. Beginning clinicals at
the local nursing home, she was rushing around to get her uniform and shoes
ready before school. She was burning the candle at both ends, with the zest of
life and energy that only teenagers possess. "I lead such a busy
life," she told her mother that morning, with a touch of fatigue. My
sister wasn't surprised when the call came from school saying she wasn't
feeling well. The flu had been going around, and Jodi, run down from doing so
much, had probably picked something up, my sister thought, as she tucked her
into bed that afternoon. As the day went on, she got worse, complaining of a
backache and nausea. Tucking her into bed that night, my sister told her,
"If you're not feeling better in the morning, we will go see the
doctor."
Jodi never saw the morning. She died at the hospital that evening of
meningococcal disease. There was nothing anyone could have done, the doctors
said. By the time the diagnosis was made, it was too late. Never had they seen
anything develop so rapidly or deadly. One minute she was here, the next she
was gone. Jodi had none of the telltale symptoms, nothing that would have
alerted them to this disease. The doctor said, it was their worst nightmare
come true and they were totally helpless. My giggling niece was dead at the age
of 16.
No more beads to string, baskets to weave, ceramics to paint. No more meals to
cook, Christmas cookies to bake or skirts to sew. No more shopping trips, funny
stories or girl's nights. No more butterfly kisses and little girl wishes. My
ambitious niece, who aspired to become a doctor working with children who had
cancer, would never grow up.
There were no other local cases of this disease before, and luckily no one else
contracted it after Jodi. The reasons why, aren't clear and they may never be.
With school beginning around the country and the anniversary of Jodi's death
approaching, I want to reach out and tell everyone of this deadly, fast
spreading killer. 15% of the population carries the bacteria in the back of
their throats. Meningococcal meningitis does not discriminate, and it is
uncertain why the bacteria attack some people and not others. In every case, in
every death, it is devastating to those family members left behind.
Meningitis is spread through close contact such as coughing, sneezing, kissing,
or sharing drinks and cigarettes. There are approximately 3000 cases every year
in the United States
and 300 to 450 of those cases are fatal. Survivors of this disease suffer severe
side effects ranging from organ damage, amputations and brain damage. Groups at
risk include infants and young children, household members of patients,
military personnel and college freshmen who live in dormitories.
Be aware and educate yourself and others. Meningitis can start out looking like
a flu or migraine. Learn the warning signs and act quickly if you suspect even
one or two of the symptoms of meningitis. Don't be afraid to call a doctor or
go to the emergency room. This disease acts very quickly – sometimes in a
matter of hours. Jodi didn't have any of the symptoms until it was too late.
The symptoms are:
Headache
Fever
Vomiting
Numbness – Loss of Feeling
Stiff Neck
Seizures
Purple Spots or Rash
Disoriented – Confused
A vaccine, Menomune, has been available since the early 1980s. The Menomune
lasts for 3 – 5 years and is 85 to 95% effective against meningitis. Sometimes
the vaccine can be difficult to find, but as a parent you should be persistent
and request it from your health care provider.
If just one person requests the vaccine from their doctor and is saved the
devastating pain of loss that my family has endured, then the painful telling
of Jodi's story will be worth it.
Please talk to your doctors, your pediatricians, and your public health
workers. Ask questions. Become aware of the disease and the threat it can be to
your child. Don't take a chance with your child's life. This disease can be
prevented. Perhaps this is Jodi's legacy and her gift to all of us. The
laughing young women, who wanted to save children as a doctor, can perhaps save
children as the child she will always be; my Jodi, forever young.
In your memory, my dear neice...with so much love, Your Aunt Patti
