“Sadly, sometimes tragedy hits us. During the summer holidays, Joanne Wilson, who had just left school, contracted meningitis. Very sadly, at 17 years of age, she lost one of her legs and several of her fingers, four on her left hand. Her comment to me was “At least I still have my ring finger.” During her time in hospital, and subsequently, she displayed extraordinary courage and determination and was a moving example to all of us who visited her. Soon after she left hospital she wrote a poem about her faith and all the good things God had given her. I would like to quote few lines from it:

He gave me tragedy
To make me strong
Strong enough to face anything this world can throw at me.
He gave me happiness and Hope
To show me there is light at the end of every tunnel.
No matter how long or tiring it may be.

We are really delighted that you are here with us tonight, Joanne, and are able to come up to receive your certificates.”

Seeing Joanne come up to receive her certificates I felt I needed to ask her to tell her story. I arranged, through Sister Helen, to see Joanne at school a few weeks later. She was full of confidence, and put me at my ease, since I was the nervous one in the face of so much courage. Throughout the interview she smiled with the confidence of one who knew what she was about, although she did confess that she was very nervous about coming up on the stage for her certificates prize-night. I assured her that it didn’t show. She told her story with a candour and composure that amazed me, and a simplicity born of maturity. She had just left school having completed her GNVQ course in Business Studies She was hoping to go to a Theatre school in September, she had been for an audition to Liverpool Theatre School and had been offered a scholarship. She was going to a family party on a Saturday evening last August.

“I just felt as though I had the flu and I went to the party thinking, ‘I’ll be all right once I get there.’ But I wasn’t, I felt really ill, I felt really drunk even though I’d had nothing to drink at all. I felt like – ‘hung-over’.

She was taken home and her mother, who was worried since Joanne was never sick, phoned for the doctor. The doctor put it down to a virus. Joanne took a paracetomol and went to sleep.

“I woke up the next morning with a rash which looked like tiny little pinpricks. It looked as though someone had pricked the inside of my skin. So small I thought it didn’t matter.

Her mother did the glass test, and some of the rash was fading and some wasn’t. She called the doctor out again but the doctor was unable to come out. She was told to take Joanne to the nearest surgery. Again the doctor put it down to a virus.

“The rash was still there and we did suspect meningitis, we were so worried, but we thought “Trust the doctor”. Mum was really cool-headed, she said right we’ll do this, we went home feeling easier. But as the day went on I got a lot worse. The rash became more obvious, my hands felt as though they were burning, as though they were literally on fire. I couldn’t stand up properly my legs were really weak.”

Her mother called the doctor, this time he came, and Joanne was rushed to hospital.

“It was really a bit of a roller coaster from there. I don’t know what level of mind I was on, but it was like I just didn’t care I was aware and conscious all the way through, and I was always asking “What are you doing that for?” Asking a lot of questions, feeling so confused.”

Joanne was in hospital for six weeks, in intensive care for about two weeks. Her parents were by her side constantly.

“I blew up like a balloon, I really did, I’ve never looked so huge in all my life. At one point they also thought I had a tumour on my spine, because of my legs I couldn’t move them at all, and meningitis is an infection of the spine and the tissue around. But it seems that the septicaemia hit me first, which I’m very grateful for, in a way. If the meningitis had hit me first I would probably have ended up dead or with brain damage or worse.”

Throughout these uncertain days her parents went through agonies, waiting, worrying. Joanne was aware of her parents’ suffering though they tried not to show it.

“They didn’t know, and I didn’t know, and mum and dad were really torn up about it. It had been really difficult for them to watch what I was going through. It was more difficult for me to see my mum and dad upset than it was for me actually to be there. I’ve never experienced that before. But then the blood did start clotting and part of my body just began to die. Basically it just began to die in front of my face.”

At this point they informed Joanne that they would have to amputate her lower left leg and five fingers.

“The fingers didn’t bother me, but the leg was such a surprise, because I really didn’t have any idea. I had to get used to the idea in the space of a day. They cleared the septicaemia and the meningitis up, they were definite it was gone. It had run its course there was nothing else they could possibly do. I was getting better and then all of a sudden they had to operate quickly because otherwise it would have spread. And it was like I had to recover all over again. My best friend at the time was on holiday in Tenerife she’d gone the Friday before and knew nothing about it. She had gone for three weeks. I really wanted her there but there was no way we could get in touch with her.”

Her best friend came back from Tenerife the morning Joanne went down to theatre. She was devastated by the news.

“When I came round she was the first person I saw, she was waiting for me. And from then on, with the support of my family and my friends, I recovered.”

Joanne’s parents are back at work now, her young brothers are back home (they stayed with their Aunt during the time Joanne was in hospital). Joanne is grateful for the support she received from school, from Sister Helen and Miss Tremarco, her music teacher. She spends her time writing poetry and preparing for September when she hopes to take up he scholarship at the Theatre School.

“I think you have two decisions when something bad happens. You can sit round and feel sorry for yourself or you can just make the best of it. You can say, right this is what I am going to do. This is where I’ve got to go from here. Sitting around feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t change a thing. I think I’ve grown up an awful lot overnight. I went in a child, and my dad said, I came out a young lady.”