Tessa the battler

Tessa Cowie is a happy, hard-case little girl. A girl who has been through too much already. A girl who has battled hard. Karen Pasco talked to Tessa's mum Ginny about the tremendous courage and determination her little girl has shown in her short life.

Careering around the lawn pushing her twin brother in a trolley and squealing with delight, 2-year-old Tessa Cowie is the picture of a happy toddler.

Behind those sparkly blue eyes and mischievous grin there is a story of a tough little fighter who isn't about to give up.

Tessa has Down's Syndrome. And then, on May 5 last year, her family found out she had leukemia.

There hadn't been any obvious signs; she really had seemed healthy.

The bruises that began to appear on her body, they simply explained away as the result of the first wobbly steps of childhood.

Then at her six-monthly check-up, her pediatrician was concerned the bruises on her forehead could be indicating something more sinister, so a blood test was taken.

The results showed low platelets so the pediatrician sent her to Christchurch for further examination.

That was on Friday, May 1.

On Monday they flew to Christchurch for further tests and on the Tuesday instead of boarding a plane back to Invercargill they were told Tessa would be starting six months of treatment.

"I thought oh my God, I'm not going home," her mum Ginny said.

It was decided Ginny would stay with Tessa and Dave would return home to work, and with help from their mothers, would continue to look after Max, then 6, and Tessa's twin brother Harrison.

It was a bit like going into automatic pilot.

The earth-shattering news hardly had time to sink in.

"As a parent you just do things for your kids. You just get on with it. You don't have a choice."

The 28-day cycle of treatments simply had to be endured.

Tessa hadn't really been sick but the resulting therapies and treatment would leave her unwell and unable to eat for two days at a time.

Just as she got well and they got a reprieve for a few days, the treatment would start again and Tessa's health would plummet.

Ginny soon learned her daughter was resilient and very forgiving.

If doctors have to do a particularly nasty procedure children are taken into a treatment room.

This is so they do not associate their room at hospital with anything unpleasant.

"She would scream the place down then turn around and give them all a kiss."

On weekdays Ginny would get an hour a day off when a respite carer came to sit with Tessa. On the weekends she would spend her whole day with her daughter.

"Sometimes I thought I was never going to get out of there."

Dave cut back his police hours so he could spend more time with the boys and travel to Christchurch once a month to take over the hospital duties.

On occasion family members would give Ginny time to come home.

"I was pulled. I really wanted to stay but I knew I needed to see the boys.

"I would have all these questions for them when I got back.

"It was quite hard at times, (though) in saying that, I only ever left her as the recovery part of the cycle was about to happen."

In the school holidays the whole family would be in Christchurch. Ginny would take the boys out and have fun.

"We treated it like a holiday for them."

The children's holidays were paid for by the donations the family received from the community.

At times the generosity from family, friends and strangers was overwhelming.

Quiz nights, art auctions and various other fundraisers were held so that the family could enjoy happy times together.

Though the family had only recently moved to Otautau, the community rallied.

"There would be food dropped off and Dave would often get asked when he was in the supermarket how everything was going. It was real genuine concern.

"We just really want to say thank you to everyone."

Ginny says she has become blase about hospital treatments. When people asked what was happening she would often say `we've got a good day today, just a blood transfusion'. Once upon a time we'd freak. Then it just became a regular occurrence."

The leukemia did give the family a refreshing change, she said.

"Before we were focused on the down's, often I would forget at times she even had it.

"It just wasn't a focus."

The impact on the family shows.

Max, now 7, is older than his years and highly protective of his little sister.

"She laughs every day now," he said.

Harrison is still adapting to life at home with the girls who arrived back home in December.

All children who undergo cancer treatment get a bead for every procedure they endure.

Tessa has 848.

That number doesn't include the last round of tests she underwent just a few weeks ago in Christchurch. The tests which gave her a clean bill of health.

There was an amount of trepidation before they heard the last result.

"In the back of your mind you're thinking what happens if it's a relapse and we're back to square one – doing it all again," Ginny said.

Tessa will now have a blood test once a month for the next year. It will be three years, all going well, before she will be given the all-clear.

"We'll just try not to think about it over the next few years."

In the meantime family life is slowly returning to normal.

As the children all play together outside sometimes laughing, sometimes fighting the reality of the past seven months seems a distant memory.

Now it's just about taking it one day at a time.

"It's hard to believe we have been through all that," Ginny said.

"But it's the outcome we wanted."

- © Fairfax NZ News