Jene Frost; The power of love

April 10, 2022April 21, 2022 / Lianne / Leave a comment

When you are stuck, or experiencing an internal struggle or you feel like you are going around and around in circles and not forward, find the courage to look at ‘what is’ straight in the eye. Quieten your fears or your belief of what you feel is ‘right’ or what you believe you are ‘deserving of.’ Step back and look at ‘what is.’ If you see that you cannot change ‘what you are seeing,’ then you must accept it and change your perspective in a way that empowers you and enables you to go forward and to continue growing. Identify and focus on what you can do and not on what you can’t do. Then take steps to do what you can do. – Rosie Goes, Surrender

Jene lay flat on her back staring up at the ceiling. Every day she had a session of physio to keep her muscles active. It was strange to ‘know’ that she was lying on a mattress and her limbs were being stretched and her joints were being rotated. She knew and remembered what that should feel like, but she felt nothing. The days ahead felt like she was a part of some optical illusion experiment, that she could see when ‘contact’ is being made but not feel it. As though the wires in her brain had been severed, then rewired in a way that she could not yet process the information she was receiving.

In the coming months, Jene would need to learn and adapt to a new way of life and of doing things. She needed to ‘unlearn’ the way she ‘remembered’ how her body works and learn how to use it in a completely new way, by using different muscles and being aware of body senses that she had never noticed before. It would take time, work and help to adapt. Though the process was slow and often frustrating, Jene instinctively knew that she could not waste her time by focusing on what was lost and on what no longer exists. Instead she chose to focus on what she can still do with her body and her life.

She wished she could say the same for her friend Donna who lay motionless in the hospital bed opposite her. It had been 10 days already and her friend had shown no sign of waking. Donna’s silence worried Jene. Though she knew her bubbly, lively, caring and infectious friend was still there and would always be there, she also knew that the longer she remained locked away, the worse Donna’s prognosis would be.

Tish sat beside her daughter. It had been an emotional couple weeks. Sometimes she was overcome by fear, fear of the unknown. Her mind would imagine the worse scenario and she’d imagine her daughter falling out of the wheel chair; limp, helpless and flopping around. She knew that Jene’s life, Rob’s, hers and her son’s life was about to change dramatically and she wished she could be the reassurance they all needed. She wished she could tell Jene that everything was going to be okay, and believe it. She wished she knew what to expect but she knew nothing, only how big it was and she buckled at the weight of it. She looked across the room at Donna. Tish initially felt such mixed emotions around Donna; of anger followed by guilt, followed by tenderness, followed by sadness, followed by a deep concern that she would not wake up. And worst of all, as a mother, she knew that this time she could not fix her daughter, she could not make her better, she could not give Jene her legs back. That life was gone and it broke her heart.

Get well wishes from some of Jene’s school friends

Jene worried too. She saw her friend and understood that they were in a similar situation: they were completely dependent on ‘others’ right now. She saw how the nurses could not be there all the time to care for them, that there were other patients too who also needed their help and their time. Sometimes, the care had to come from others.

Though Jene could see her own mother’s struggle with acceptance and the enormity of her grief, having Tish by her side with her tender acts of ‘caring,’ like brushing her hair, filing her nails, passing something that she could not reach – gave Jene strength, more strength than her mother could ever know. Tish was fortunate enough to have a good business manager in Bulwer and this allowed her to stay in Pietermaritzburg throughout Jene’s long recovery and for her to be with Jene all day, every day. Though Tish may have felt that she was not enough at the time, or that she could not fix her daughter in the way that she wanted to, she was exactly what Jene needed – somebody next to her.

Everyday Jene would watch her friend and she wished Donna would wake up and experience the love and care that she was experiencing. She wished that Donna knew how many people cared, how many people streamed into the ward, breaking the hospital rules with the number of visitors allowed in a ward at one time, to see them, to love them and to support them. She wished Donna would wake up, and see what she sees. If she could have, she would have got up herself, walked over to Donna and done exactly what her mother was doing for her. But she couldn’t, and so she asked her mother to do it instead.

Tish sat with Donna and took her limp hand. For a few long moments, she simply held it and remembered the young girl Donna is, trapped in her own broken body but still there. On inspection, she saw that Donna bites her nails and one by one, Tish filed her bitten nails into curved, smooth edges – just as she had done for Jene. “You know Donna, you really should stop biting your nails,” said Tish in a firm motherly voice. As she said that, Donna flinched and pulled her hand away. It was the first time they knew for sure that she was still there, that she was gaining consciousness and importantly, that she understood that she was being cared for, even if it was not what Donna wanted to hear!

Over the next few weeks, Jene, Donna and Tish adapted to ‘hospital life’ and its routine and would get to know the nurses as if they were all in one big family living under the same roof, caring for each other, eating together and going through the ups and downs of recovery. Jene was given the option to move into a private ward, knowing what was still to come in the way of her recovery and how long she would still need to stay in hospital for. But she chose not to. She wanted to stay with Donna in the general ward; for her, her mother and Donna to stay together until Donna left and did not need them anymore.

Donna had finally regained consciousness but worryingly, she still did not speak. She was awake but silent and her body had been affected in a way that was similar to that of a severe stroke. For the time being, she was unable to walk on her own, talk or care for herself in the way of feeding and bathing. She was heavily dependent on being cared for by the nurses, Tish and her parents. By now, everyone was very worried. Weeks passed and the silence became the elephant in the room. Tish continued to care for Donna in the way that she cared for Jene, brushing and washing her hair, helping her bathe, doing her nails and talking to her despite never being answered.

Donna was locked away in her own world, responding to very little except when she was shown love and care. In those tender moments, Donna’s face would beam with light and her smile would open up like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. ‘Love’ was Donna’s language.

One evening Donna’s dad had come into Pietermaritzburg from the farm and was there with Donna during meal time. Meal times in the ward had become quite social, like a group of family and friends sitting around a dining room table only they were in hospital beds in the general hospital ward. Graham, Donna’s dad, was feeding Donna her supper. While he was spooning Donna her food, he was also talking to Tish and Jene and was not fully focused on what he was doing or on what Donna needed. She’d already swallowed the spoonful of food and was ready for another spoonful, but her dad was slow on the mark that day and hadn’t realised that his daughter was very hungry and was becoming increasingly impatient with him. At that moment, she silenced the chatter all at once, and told him exactly what she needs in one word, “More.”

Tears of joy rolled down Graham’s face and in that moment, there was only love. And only love mattered.

If you would like to follow Jene’s story, scroll down to the bottom of this page and Click Follow! Or go to the Rosie Goes Facebook page and receive updates through Facebook! This is just the beginning of a big human adventure in pursuit of humanKIND!

Jene Frost; Little girl gone

April 1, 2022April 20, 2022 / Lianne / Leave a comment

It didn’t matter that she was 15 years old, some things never changed. Every Friday Jene would come back home from boarding school and she would sit on her mother’s lap and tell her about her week. It was probably one of the few times that Jene was still. Then afterwards, she’d hop in the bakkie with her father and they’d head off to their favourite dam to fish as they had done since Jene was little.

She was an active child from the word go and her parents were her biggest supporters. At seven years old, Jene was running races against twelve year old’s and beating them. She was the 800m champion and she was the right wing on the hockey field, sprinting down the side line and scoring goals. Always close by, was her father Rob. Rob was the type of father who would be pacing up and down the side line too, cheering Jene on and getting as much joy supporting her with her sport as she felt when doing it.

Jene was a ball of fire and having grown up with mostly boys as her friends and with an older brother to tussle with, she learned from a young age ‘to give it as good as she got!’ ‘But she had a precious little heart,’ says mother Tish. ‘Jene was my little girl and in one night, I witnessed my little girl become an adult.’

Tish sat on the floor of the ambulance next to her daughter who was on the trauma board and begged her not to fall asleep. Donna was unconscious and Jene was in shock. She was freezing cold so the heaters of the ambulance were turned right up. Tears and sweat streamed down Tish’s face as she attempted to console her daughter on the slow and agonizing three hour trip to Pietermaritzburg. “Mommy, I’m sore, Mommy, I’m sore,” cried Jene, but there was nothing Tish could do. For the first time Tish did not know how to fix her daughter. With every twist and turn of the Umkomaas Valley, and the cries of pain that came with it, Tish was overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness and the terror of a parent at seeing their child in such a state.

They eventually arrived at Greys hospital and the girls were wheeled in through the emergency doors, taking priority over patients with broken bones and bloody wounds. They were taken straight to the x-ray room. Donna was x-rayed first and then Jene. It was just a fleeting moment, but as Donna was wheeled out of the x-ray room, Jene caught the first glimpse of her friend’s face and in that moment, she immediately understood the seriousness of their accident. Donna’s entire face was purple and swollen and she was still unconscious. It was also at that moment that Jene knew she could never blame Donna, or hold on to any anger, that there was nothing to forgive.

Jene endured another agonizing stint of being tugged and turned from side to side, increasing her pain with every new x-ray position. As well as having back injuries, Jene had also broken her collar bone and ribs and by this time she was exhausted and fed up with being fussed over. She just wanted to sleep but this day seemed to go on and on and the pain was excruciating.

The last memory she had of that day was of her clothes being cut from her body and the gumboots being pulled from her feet, followed by the relief from a pain killer and falling into a deep sleep. The 28th of April had finally come to its end and nothing would ever be the same again for Jene, or Donna.

29^th April 1996

It was 3am when Jene woke. She was in a hospital ward and it was dark. Though she could hear the deep breathing of slumbering patients around her, Jene felt completely alone. She was scared and she was confused and bit by bit the memories from the day before returned, like puzzle pieces being put together to make a picture that she did not want to see. Then the door slowly opened, and the passage light poured in and in walked Jene’s first of a thousand visitors. Jenny Guy was a maternity nurse at Greys Hospital and who originally was from Ixopo. She had heard about the accident and she’d come to see Jene and to sit with her. Though Jene did not know Jenny at the time, she knew her son well who was also in her class at Ixopo High School. It was a huge relief for Jene to know that someone who knew her and who was familiar had come to be with her during those first very dark and lonely hours. In the weeks and years to come, Jene would come to know what it is to be supported. How support comes in many forms and how it has carried her and accompanied her forward on this life-altering journey. On that first night of being in hospital, Jene had been heavily sedated and she was struggling to talk and to breathe. Jenny told Jene that she needn’t talk, that she would sit with her and that she should rest, instantly dissipating the overwhelming fear Jene had felt a few moments before. That night, they moved through time in silence, with Jenny doing nothing and saying nothing other than simply being there, being present.

A few days later, the neurosurgeon had a meeting with Rob and Tish about Jene. He was a kind and compassionate man and though he had done this many times before, he knew that this would be the first and only time that they would be told this kind of news about their daughter, how their little girl would never walk again.

Panic stricken, Tish could not believe what she was hearing. These words this man was speaking made no sense. Not Jene, not her little girl, not the girl who loved to run and who spent every waking hour outdoors and on the move. Not the little girl who had such a big life ahead of her. Not Jene. This could not be.

Anger, fear, disbelief knocked her like a wrecking ball and she got up and ran. She kicked the door open and ran, ran to nowhere, ran to anywhere but there. She wanted to vomit these words out and to scream at the world, ‘why Jene, why my baby girl?’ but nothing came.

The next day Tish and Rob sat with Jene, knowing what they knew but not knowing how to tell her. Then Jene asked Tish, “Mommy, what is happening to me? Why can’t I feel my legs?” And Tish told Jene the truth, that she is paralyzed. For a moment their eyes locked as the news sunk in and became a reality. Jene’s eyes turned red then a brilliant blue. It was a shock to hear what she believes she already knew, a confirmation of a conversation that she had been having in her own head. It was a shock to hear that she would ‘never ever’ walk again. But at that point, Jene had not yet understood, or processed what ‘never ever’ meant, but she accepted it.

Tish ran out. She couldn’t bare to see the pain on her daughters face, to be watching the curtain close on the life she knew and loved, a life that they all loved. And to be replaced with what? How would she ever recover from this and would they ever see that radiant smile that was their child?

Rob never cried, but that day while sitting beside Jene and holding her hand, he cried. And he said to her ‘Cooks, it’s going to be okay, we are going to get through this.’ And Jene believed him.

Jene Frost; The day everything changed

March 25, 2022April 20, 2022 / Lianne / 1 Comment

When I initially contacted Jene to ask her if she would be willing to share her story with me, I knew it would be a story of ‘acceptance.’ I knew that her story involved ‘surrendering to what is before she could go forward.’ I knew that she had done this because of how far she has come since that life changing day. But I had thought it would be a different story to what it is. I imagined myself in her shoes and what it must have been like to lose the life she knew. I imagined that the drastic change of life and how it’s far-reaching implications would have been difficult to accept – that there would have been a long internal struggle of acceptance before she could start moving forward with her new ‘normal.’ But I was wrong. This is the phenomenal story of Jene Frost, of a young woman who saw no choice but to accept her new circumstances, adapt and move on.

Sunday, 28^th April 1996

It was a special occasion. ‘Oupa’ and his sister had come to visit the family. It didn’t happen often because he lived in Pretoria – a full day’s drive from the lush green forestry estate in KwaZulu-Natal. On this special occasion there was only one obvious way to celebrate: To braai.

To Braai is a South African food and social culture of cooking meat on a fire, usually in the company of good friends and family, doused with a few cold beers and spiced up with some braai banter. While the occasion is usually casual, cooking the actual meat is a very serious business and a responsibility not to be taken lightly. The meat you cook is your preference, but whatever meat it is you choose, there must be passion! There must be a lot of love and care and the goal must be ‘perfection.’

For Rob Frost, father of Jene and chief braai master, there was absolutely no question about what to braai, it had to be his famous Mozambican Piri Piri chicken.

The thing about preparing and cooking a good Mozambican Piri Piri chicken on the fire is that it takes time. There is simply no way to rush the chicken, lunch will almost always be served late.

First, one must marinade the chicken in all its spices, lemon and garlic overnight so that the entire bird is infused with flavour. Once the chicken has been marinated, it’s time to start the fire. The fire must be just right, not too hot and not too cold. At no point can the chicken be left unattended. The cook must be there from beginning to end, basting the chicken over and over again and applying the marinade until there is nothing left. Then finally, you crisp it up and your result is the most succulent, tender piri piri chicken that is bursting with flavour inside and out and the best you will ever taste. This is a chicken that you will have to wait for.

But Jene was not one to wait around. At the age of fifteen, Jene could think of far more exciting ways to pass time than to sit around a fire watching a chicken cook. Besides, her friend Donna from the next door farm was here too with her father and his partner Ann. The two girls had had about as much adult talk as their teenager selves could handle and the piri piri marinade packet was still half fill! Lunch would not be ready for at least another hour. They needed some fun, some speed and some adventure to pass the time. “Let’s go to the dam Donna,” said Jene, and Donna agreed. Rob overheard the conversation between the two girls and reminded them of the rule. “Girls, No helmet, no ride.”

‘Zane,’ Jene’s older brother, had a motorbike and had just got a brand new helmet. He was quite happy to share his bike and helmets with his younger sister and her friend, they were good like that. Since Jene had already done a few laps around the garden earlier on, it was Donna’s turn to drive. Though she had not ridden this bike before, riding motorbikes was nothing new for these two farm girls and ‘today’ was just another one of those typical farm days.

15 minutes later, the girls were already at the dam. ‘Now what,’ said Jene? They knew the piri piri chicken still had a while to go and there was no reason for them to rush back. This was the beauty of being a teenager living on a farm at that time. There were no tablets or screen gadgets, no cell phones and no hours and hours of Netflix. It was just good old farm fun and a freedom that most teenagers can only dream of experiencing. As with all other days, it was not so much about where to go, but rather the doing of it. It was not so much about the dam, but rather the feeling of independence and freedom that ‘going to’ the dam gave them. But now that they were at the dam, they needed to go somewhere else and though it was not about the ‘where,’ the ‘where’ still needed to have some sort of significance or purpose. A new gravel road was being built on the other side of the dam. Jene and her brother had investigated it the day before and had had a small accident when they hit a patch of loose gravel and the wheel had ‘washed out.’ But Donna had not been there, and exploring ‘a new road’ ticked the box of where to go next for them both to continue feeling the pure joy and exhilaration of going somewhere on a motorbike, on their own.

The last memory that Jene has of being on the motorbike was her shouting above the noise of the engine, ‘watch out for the loose gravel on the corner.’ Seconds later, they were both unconscious. Neither girl remembers what happened. The only certainty is that on that day many things happened for them to get to where they were, to a place that they took a turn down a new road.

Jene woke up flat on her stomach with her head to the side and with the motorbike on her legs. She noticed that Donna was next to her, unconscious or simply not moving and that there were trees all around them. It was confusing; it felt like she was having a bad dream and was drifting in and out of sleep.

In the meanwhile, the piri piri chicken was crisped up and ready to eat. By then everyone had been seduced by the aromas of roasting meat for a few hours and were hungry but the girls were not back yet. It was unusual. Especially since ‘Mozambican piri piri chicken’ was a family favourite. There was no chance that Jene would have missed out on her portion of ‘crispy chicken wing,’ not for anyone!

For the most part, disappearing on the farm for a few hours was nothing unusual for Jene. She was an outdoor kid and was happiest fishing with her dad at the dam or being on the bike or doing something on the move. Her weeks and her weekends were always action-packed. During the week, Jene’s love of sport filled up her days. She’d start her day with a 10 kilometre run and she’d finish on the hockey field. At the age of fifteen sport, action and adventure had become her identity. Whatever day of the week it was, it was the joy of movement that made Jene feel most alive.

The chicken was cold by now and with every passing minute and the gnawing feeling that something was not right, prompted the men to head out and to start looking for the girls. One hour passed, two hours passed and there was still no sign of them. In this time, the farming community had been alerted on the radio that Jene and Donna were missing and within a few minutes, the community was activated and a search party was in full force. The possibilities were endless, like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. Which road had they taken? Had they gone to visit another friend? Had they run out of fuel? Had they broken down? Had they ventured onto the tar road and had an accident? Had they been hijacked? Had they been taken? Were they safe? Were they alive?

Jene opened her eyes once again and the pine trees in the distance came back into focus. She could smell them and she could hear a trickle of water. She wondered how she was still having the same bad dream. Then she became aware of how her head and body ached and that she couldn’t move. She noticed how Donna was still there too, motionless. In between dipping in and out of consciousness, Jene started to realise that this was no dream and that they were in trouble. She did what any child would do when they are hurt and she cried for her mother before losing consciousness once again. Jene disappeared back into the depths of nothingness, hovering somewhere in no-man’s land, with neither a past, nor a future, as if her soul was taking a long and deep breath before it continued on with the next leg of its journey.

At the same moment that Jene called for her mother, an elderly African man was returning from Sunday church and was walking home on the remote farm road close to where the girls were lying. It was a desperate cry, one that did not fit the peaceful setting. It was a cry that pierced the gentle breeze and silenced the birds, a cry for help. He found the girls lying in a dry river bed, unconscious and in a very bad shape. Jene had landed on a concrete pipe and Donna had collided with a tree.

Jene and Donna’s accident site at Colbeck Estate in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa

When Jene’s mother Tish and Ann (Donna’s father’s partner) saw the man running up the farm road, they knew it was about the girls. Breathless from running, he told them that he’d found the Mngani’s (children) and that they were in trouble. Together the three of them jumped in the vehicle and raced off to the accident site. Ann was a nurse and when she laid eyes on the girls, she immediately knew that it was very serious and potentially life threatening. She firmly instructed Tish not to move Jene and to return to the house and to call Dr Gardener (the local community doctor) and to call an ambulance too.

When someone in a farming community is in some type of distress or danger and the community is alerted, it’s quite extraordinary what happens next. They arrive in their dozens within minutes. Within minutes a signal is sent via telephone or radio and a community that is made up of individuals and personalities of all types, merges into one well-oiled co-operative machine with only one thing in mind. To do what is necessary to help, protect, support and fix. Dr Gardener was called and told that the girls had been in an accident. Within a couple of minutes of receiving the call, especially since it was on a weekend, he knew it was serious and was on his way. There were no questions asked other than the location.

Dr Gardener arrived and assessed the girls. He then crouched down to Jene’s level and pinched her hard. He continued to pinch her again and again all the way up her left side. Then he pinched her under her arm and she yelped in pain and shouted at him, “What the hell are you doing?” Dr Gardener apologised and told her that he won’t do it again. Then he pinched her on the right side, all the way up from the waist and finally under the arm. When he pinched her under the right arm, she got really cross with him, because he had done it again. Nothing more was said and there were no more pinches after that.

The girls were carefully put on trauma boards and loaded onto the ambulance. Tish and Ann would accompany them on the slow and agonising three hour journey to Pietermaritzburg. While Donna remained unconscious, Jene was physically and emotionally exhausted and all she wanted to do was sleep. It had felt like the longest day of her life and she was fed up with everyone fussing over her. She just wanted to be left alone and to be allowed to sleep and to have this hellish day over and done with.

“You can’t” said Ann in her most authoritative voice. “You cannot go to sleep Jene, I wont allow you to.” Despite everything that had happened that day, Jene still had enough strength and fire in her to be extremely annoyed at being told what she can and can’t do, especially after a day like this. But Ann was adamant. The risk of missing a brain injury such as a seizure or a weakness on one side of the body after experiencing a head injury was too great and not a risk anyone was prepared to take.

Ann threatened Jene with a ‘smack on the bum,’ if she fell asleep. And without much thought, Jene replied, “I don’t care, I won’t feel it.”

“Well then, I will pinch you on your ear,” said Ann

And Jene stayed awake.

Rosie Goes

In pursuit of humanKIND

life story

Jene Frost; The power of love

Jene Frost; Little girl gone

Jene Frost; The day everything changed