FAT TO FAST
(A young athlete’s story)
‘As told to’ J. William Turner
Copyright 2012 by (James) J. William Turner
Smashwords Edition
(Original version copyright 2009 by (James) J. William Turner)
It is not often that one is privileged to make a significant difference in the life of another person, especially a young person.
As a university professor and clinical psychologist who once treated substance abusers, I know I had helped many kids in my professional capacity. This always gave my ego and self-esteem a boost.
But it was as a private person in retirement, dealing with an obese teenager, that I was to find my greatest satisfaction.
Dennis Cooke PhD
Chapter 2 - Settling In (Days 1 - 2)
Chapter 3 - Hard Work and Fun (Days 3 - 8)
Chapter 4 - Good Progress (Days 15 - 63)
Chapter 5 - In Training (Days 64 - 110)
Chapter 6 - Going Home (Days 111 - 160+)
This story is fictional. Any similarity to historical events, or to any person, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional.
Other works by J.William Turner:
Dangerous Days I (Storm Ridge)
Dangerous Days II (Paddle Hard)
Dangerous Days III (Outback Heroes)
Dangerous Days IV (Enemies Within)
Blades I (Street Kid)
Blades II (High Country)
Blades III (California Dreaming)
Blades IV (Aftermath)
Jake’s Magical Easter Adventure
My name is Dr. Dennis Cooke (PhD), and this is the story of how I started an obese teenage boy on the road to fulfilling his sporting dream.
As a clinical psychologist, I had decided to retire early from university lecturing at the age of fifty. Six months earlier, my wife, Mona, died suddenly after a massive stroke. I then sold my home in Melbourne, and moved two thousand kilometres north to Urangan, a suburb in the coastal city of Hervey Bay. Located three hours’ drive north of Brisbane, ‘The Bay’ offered me the new relaxing lifestyle and climate I had been seeking. It also offered me a chance to take up lawn bowls and do volunteer work with local youth, free of the pressures involved as a professional.
Prior to this, for more than twenty years, I had specialised in the area of youth addictions. Supported by grants from governments and benevolent trusts, I was able to establish a youth-only rehabilitation unit in Melbourne
Here, my staff and I primarily treated teenagers abusing narcotics, cannabis, hallucinogens, pills and alcohol. We also helped young people with gambling problems and Internet/video games obsessions, but to a much lesser extent.
During my four years as its head, before returning to university lecturing, this facility served several hundred teenagers plagued by the aforementioned addictions. It therefore came as a surprise to me, at the time I left, when I realised that we had not admitted a single food addict. And so it happened, that one of my last acts as Chief was to mention this fact, somewhat flippantly I must confess, to my diminutive replacement, Dr Ross Boyd (PhD).
Referred to as Dr. Ross by all who knew him, he had been my student whilst completing his research thesis during my previous days as a lecturer. After assessing the work he presented to me at that time, I had no hesitation in recommending he be awarded his doctorate. I also had no hesitation in having him offered a fellowship in my department at the university, and later recruiting him to my team at the rehabilitation unit when it was eventually opened to residents. And, finally, I had no hesitation in recommending him to the rehab unit’s Board of Directors as the right person to fill my shoes as psychologist-in-charge when I returned to lecturing. Fortunately, they had the very good sense to agree.
But Ross had not only been a former student, and very capable member of my staff, he had also been a good friend. So it was for this reason that we decided to maintain very close contact while I was a lecturer, and later, a retiree, despite the distance. And it was because of this contact, and my respect for the man, that I came to be involved with the teenage boy in question, a boy who had a rare natural talent or gift. It was just not the talent that anybody who knew him back then would ever have expected.
Told with the total support, cooperation, and some direct written input from all the major players, ‘Fat to Fast’ is the story of the challenging journey of self-discovery, awareness, and emotional healing on which I escorted and supervised this fine young man.
THE INITIAL REQUEST FROM DR. ROSS BOYD
For the first two years of my retirement, Ross and I regularly e-mailed each other. I would occasionally tell him what a great lifestyle I had up north, unsuccessfully attempting to make him envious. In return, he would occasionally seek out my opinion from time to time in reference to particularly challenging cases. That is until early one April, when I sent an e-mail advising him that I was flying down for ten days. I was due to arrive on Thursday, 9th April, to spend Easter with my son, Darren, and his family, whom I always missed a lot. Included in this e-mail was an off-the-cuff comment about treating food addictions.
The response that I received from Ross made me think of the old saying, “Me and my big mouth.” In his replying e-mail, my former student and subordinate drew my attention to a new case of food addiction. It was one in which he had a very personal interest. The sufferer was Kendal Kirby, a morbidly obese fourteen-year-old boy who lived with his divorced mother in the house next to Ross.
Ross knew both Kendal and his mother, Gina, very well. And based on his knowledge of this single-parent family, he had decided the boy really needed to be in a controlled environment for several months away from his home and mother. He required the sort of role-modelling and close supervision that Gina was unable to provide at the time.
Although having finalised her acrimonious divorce three years earlier, she had not coped well. Basically, she placed her own emotional needs ahead of her son’s at the time, and continued to do so as he became a teenager. This, in turn, adversely affected Kendal’s emotional state. And matters only became worse when his father committed suicide. The result was that an already-slightly-chubby primary school boy, having been nurtured in a dysfunctional home, eventually became a grossly overweight high school student, who really needed to get away.
But the rehab unit was not the place. So Ross wanted me to meet them. Why? Because he felt that Kendal’s needs would best be served if he came to live with me in Hervey Bay, adding, “While you’re dealing with Kendal, I can work on Gina. And having a kid around will keep you feeling young, anyway.”
Ross also pointed out that it would be good timing as Victorian schools started their holidays at the end of term one on Friday, 3rd April. Kendal would be able to fly back to Hervey Bay with me on the twentieth, if there was still a seat available on each of the two flights involved.
Living in a three-bedroom two-storey home, typical in that part of Queensland, I actually had the room to accommodate him. But the idea of entering into a private boarding arrangement with a mother and son I didn’t know was way outside of my comfort zone.
My immediate response was to e-mail him back with that regular catchphrase quote from U.S. TV psychologist, ‘Dr Phil’, “Are you kidding me?”
But he wasn’t. He was absolutely serious, and had complete trust. So we exchanged a flurry of more e-mails. Finally, I agreed to be introduced to Kendal and Gina on the Tuesday evening after Easter at their home. This would mean I could have dinner with the Boyd family first. This consisted of Ross, his wife Sally, ten-year-old daughter, Angela, and twelve-year-old son, Wesley, so named after a brave classmate who saved Ross’s life in a blizzard during a school hike twenty-seven years earlier.
Tuesday, 14 April - I arrived at the Boyd residence just as the sun was setting. Having visited often in the past, I always enjoyed spending an evening there. They were a really good family that would never have existed if Ross had died during that blizzard in the 1980's. I was also quite amused on this visit by the fact that despite having just finished primary school, young Wesley was now almost as tall as his dad. Another half dozen centimetres would do it. And although petit, Angela was certainly growing well for her age. I expected them both to be taller than Ross eventually.
Before dinner, Ross took me into his study for a couple of beers and a brief chat about my visit to the people next door. He told me that both of them had initially been ‘freaked out’ by the idea of Kendal living in my house for up to five months. In reply, I said, “Well mate, that’s hardly surprising.”
But Ross can be very persuasive, despite his short stature. After turning on some of his boyish charm and telling them I had a Queensland state government-issued child contact authority, a ‘blue-card’, their initially-negative reaction had softened to one of ‘maybe’, especially Kendal. His reason, however, was that “winter in Melbourne sucked compared to Queensland”. No argument from me on that score, but Ross felt there was a lot more to it than that. I guessed it would all come down to whether or not, firstly, they liked me, and, secondly, my own impression of Kendal. His mother, I wasn’t so concerned about. She would be Ross’s problem if I agreed to take the boy.
Sally Boyd was an excellent cook. She had prepared a meal that was both my favourite and Ross’s, vegetarian lasagne. After downing two large helpings, I was ready to meet the neighbours. And that’s exactly what I did at seven thirty when Ross led me onto their front veranda and rang the bell. I felt a strange tenseness as I waited.
MY FIRST MEETING WITH GINA KIRBY
The door was opened by Gina Kirby. She presented as a very slender woman of average height with an air of relaxed confidence and no apparent personal issues with weight. But I suspected this air of confidence hid anxiety. What that anxiety was about, if it existed, I was interested to find out, although I had been well-briefed by Ross. First of all, though, due to limited time, I wanted to begin analysing the whole situation as we entered the house.
Gina already had the electric kettle on in anticipation of our arrival, and escorted us into the lounge room. She told us that Kendal was in his bedroom, “probably hiding-out”. The last remark was made with a faint note of sarcasm.
While our refreshments were being prepared, I quickly looked around the room. It was neat and tidy, just as Mona had maintained our own home when she was alive. There were landscape pictures on the walls, and old black-and-white or sepia portraits on the mantle. What was immediately noticeable by its absence, though, was a lack of recent family-type colour photographs. By contrast, they were all over the place in Ross’s lounge, and mine.
Our hostess soon had us with a cup of coffee in one hand and a chocolate biscuit in the other. We were ready to get down to business and Ross opened the discussion. He asked her what she really wanted for her son. The gist of her reply was for him to meet a high standard, lose weight and make her proud.
In response to this statement, Ross asked Gina if Kendal had ever been caught stealing by anybody. He hadn’t. So he asked if he had ever been found to be cheating in class exams. Again, he hadn't. Does he roam the streets at night, vandalise property, bully smaller kids in the schoolyard, smoke, get drunk or constantly tell lies? Her answer was no to the first five behaviours, and not sure to the last.
Tactfully, I hadn’t jumped in first to ask those questions as we had only just met. And I knew exactly what Ross’s next question was going to be.
“Well, Gina,” he said quietly, “if the only negative thing he maybe does is tell lies, why aren’t you proud of him?”
Gina hesitated for a second, shrugged and replied that she was proud of him, and what she had meant to say was for Kendal to make her more proud of him. Here was one problem already. She admitted to not having said that to her son for many years. There was an apparent lack of communication.
Another problem evident from everything she was saying, without realising it, was that she wanted the weight loss to be more for her benefit than for his. That is, she wanted him to meet a standard appropriate for her as an adult and to boost her pride and self-esteem. Having been verbally and emotionally abused by her late, ex-husband, regaining that pride and self-esteem had become paramount in her personal agenda. Unfortunately, she was trying to do it through Kendal. But Ross had already told me that the boy had his own emotional and physical problems. Thus, he was totally incapable of meeting his mother’s current expectations and frustration had set in, for both parties. Gina had become more and more controlling as time went by, trying to feel good in any given moment, without consideration for Kendal’s sensitivities.
One of her tools to do this was food. She felt gratified seeing him happily tuck into as much as he could eat. Meanwhile, he derived pleasure from the very act of consuming the inappropriate food. This particular aspect of their life together was out of control. In terms of nutrition, they had become each other’s worst enemy. But at least Gina had always insisted Kendal have an annual physical exam by their family doctor. The result each time was that he was in very good health apart from the obesity.
As far as breaking the poor nutrition cycle was concerned, teaching a young person like Kendal what to do correctly, if I could get him motivated, would be far easier than teaching his mother. I suspected that Gina had fallen into a very deep rut from which Ross would have to drag her, but it wasn't going to be easy. She would also require a lot of motivation, preferably as quickly as possible. So I was hoping for early successes with Kendal, if I agreed to take him. For now, I wanted to know if his mother had been thinking of ways to help him.
I asked, “Gina, what strategy or plan do you have for Kendal to improve his current situation?”
She said to get him on some kind of diet, just as long as he could lose weight. She had totally missed the fact that she was enabling his weight gain by bringing all the wrong foods into their home in the first place. But this would be for Ross to deal with. My concern was the boy. The time had come to be direct. “Gina, how do you really feel about Kendal coming to live with me, a stranger, two thousand kilometres away?”
She looked down and pulled at her fingers. “Like I am failing. Like I’m a bad mum.”
I reached over, gently touched her wrist and said, “The fact you can say that tells me you’re not failing and you're not a bad mum. You’re just in a bind that’s way over your head, that’s all.”
Gina looked up and smiled slightly. It was obvious she appreciated my words of support, and I asked her if she had any questions about life in Hervey Bay if her son came to live with me. That was when I discovered that Ross had already told her a fair bit about me, and my background. Her only questions concerned the sort of accommodation I would be providing, and what high school Kendal would attend.
The matter of accommodation was easily dealt with. He would have his own bedroom at the other end of the house from mine. But as far as his education went, I intended home-schooling him for the two terms minimum that he would be with me.
Gina asked the obvious, “Why home-schooling?”
My answer was, quite simply, that for a boy with Kendal’s problems, neither of the two state high schools in Hervey Bay would be ‘appropriate environments’. Both schools would expose him to the twin risks of access to the wrong foods and extreme teasing. Either of these risks by themselves could be damaging. Together, they would be just plain toxic, setting the boy up for failure. Kendal needed a controlled, structured environment that was both nutritionally and emotionally safe. The only place that could be guaranteed was in my own home under my constant supervision, especially in the early stages.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Ross nodding slightly in private agreement. Directly before me, Gina was clearly nodding. She had quickly got the message about environmental factors. This was good, as I would have hated to tell her what a poor environment she had provided for so long.
So instead, I asked to meet Kendal for a private chat while she talked some more with Ross. It was important for me to get the boy’s opinion on the present situation and of himself.
When I had finished the last of my coffee and biscuit, Gina led me from the lounge, down a short passage to a closed door, knocked quietly and entered a couple of seconds later. Once we were inside, I was introduced as Dr. Cooke.
Gina’s Thoughts
The whole idea of Kendal living away from home for at least five months was daunting, to say the least. Apart from a couple of short school camps and an occasional sleepover at a friend’s house back in primary school, he had never been away from home, and certainly not two thousand kilometres away for many months. But seeing him so overweight was starting to make me feel quite guilty. Part of me knew that something drastic had to be done, but another part had personal issues and emotions that were taking priority over Kendal’s needs.
After my bitter divorce from Kendal’s father, and his subsequent suicide, I really had become wrapped up in myself and in my search for gratification. In doing so, I had probably raised an over-indulged ‘mummy’s boy’. Having chatted informally with Ross, I was only just starting to realise all of the problems that were a part of my life and Kendal’s.
Significantly, the first of these problems was for me to find the strength to deal with them. It was difficult enough coping by myself with the depressed, under-achieving teenager that I was starting to feel I had created. Emotionally, there wasn’t enough inner-reserve left for me. Being a bit sarcastic at times, for example, my comment about Kendal “hiding-out in his room” when Ross and Dennis arrived was an inappropriate way to deal with things. I needed time out and to learn to trust, myself as well as others. However, just the thought of not only a separation from my son, but him living with someone who was not ‘family’ was very difficult, no matter how highly Ross recommended Dennis.
At least having met him now, I can say Dennis seemed to be a respectful, understanding and sensitive professional, with a desire to help my son and me indirectly. And it was, in fact, Ross who told me that “being a parent often means putting the emotional needs of our children ahead of our own,” or words to that effect.
There was no doubt that Kendal’s emotional needs were becoming magnified. But he didn’t want to communicate his feelings to me, and I didn’t know how to ask. My son was becoming a stranger. I knew nothing of his dreams or aspirations. I sensed that Dennis might be Kendal’s last hope before he went off the rails when his teenage hormones really started to kick-in. I wondered nervously what impression my son would make on him.
MY FIRST MEETING WITH KENDAL KIRBY
Kendal was horizontal on his bed, and didn’t stand until prompted by his mother. I offered my hand. With an avoidance of eye contact, the handshake was returned somewhat weakly, and Gina vacated the room. Now that we were alone together, I could begin assessing my potential young houseguest.
Physically, he was borderline morbidly obese. Standing about one hundred and sixty centimetres in height, he looked to weigh approximately seventy kilograms. If my estimate was correct, I decided, then he was at least twenty-five kilograms or fifty percent above his ideal weight.
But for now, the exact figures were of little concern. It was an initial appraisal of his overall psychology and thinking that was my priority. So we sat on his bed, where I engaged Kendal in some small talk, initially one-sided with me doing a lot of the talking. I confirmed that I was in his room to discuss his coming to Queensland, and told him a few things about myself, and my home.
I then invited him to put to me any questions he wished. His first one concerned what he would be doing in Queensland during his time with me. In reply, I told him he would be shown new ways to manage his eating, thinking and relationships, which would be explained to him, if he agreed to come. I made it clear that he would, in fact, be living a totally different, quite strict, rigid and structured lifestyle based on healthy choices regarding environment, exercise and food intake. He would have to meet very high standards, which may take a while to get used to, and would make no allowances for any type of food addiction. I half-hoped that he might form in his mind the impression of something similar to the TV reality show, ‘The Biggest Loser’.
I made it sound worse than it was ever likely to be, because I did not want to give a false expectation of some kind of sub-tropical holiday camp. I asked him how he felt about that. Kendal shrugged silently, and then asked his second question. This was almost identical to his mother’s second question earlier about high school. My answer that he would be home-schooled caused his eyes to light up, and the corners of his mouth to twitch into a fleeting smile ever so slightly. Here was a big clue as to one significant social/emotional issue. But now was not the time or place to address it. I filed it away in my memory to be dealt with later back in Queensland.
For the time being, I wanted to go down a different path. I said to him, “Complete this statement...If you really knew me, you’d know...”
Kendal shifted his gaze to one side for a few seconds as he pondered the statement and whether or not to respond. Then he replied, “If you really knew me, you’d know I’m lost.”
The answer was simple and articulate, and delivered in a manner showing an underlying intelligence that was clearly above average.
I asked him in what way was he lost. In reply, Kendal pointed to a large dictionary on a shelf above his desk with some other books. He said, “You’ll find the answer in there.”
He was clearly suggesting I look for myself, so I obliged and reached for the dictionary. After the word ‘lost’ there were several definitions. Five of them sounded relevant. They were: Having gone astray. Bewildered; perplexed. Wasted. To no longer belong. To have no effect on.
As I read these aloud to him, I sensed that he was nodding to himself. He must have already looked at the definitions previously. So I asked him to elaborate. He told me that “To have no effect on” came from a feeling of not being listened to. “To no longer belong” was, just as I suspected, social isolation within his peer group. “Wasted” was how he saw his life. “Having gone astray” referred to the fear of never being able do what he really wanted. And “Bewildered; perplexed” stemmed purely from not knowing how to remedy his situation. He was without doubt clearly looking for answers.
I said to him, “Kendal, tell me what it is you want to do, but fear you will never be able to do?”
The boy suddenly looked downcast. He pointed to a poster on the ceiling above his bed. On it was an image of the 2008 Beijing Olympics Australian silver and bronze medallist, Jared Tallent.
“Jared got his medals for long-distance walking,” Kendal muttered, “but I want to run.”
The fact that Kendal appeared to have a hero and a definite goal was encouraging. The main questions now were how desperately did he want to achieve it, and how much was he prepared to do to achieve it? But desire and commitment are two different things. Just how strong were his? Unfortunately, I would have to take him to Queensland to find the answers. But this then incurred the risk of Kendal not being able to find and sustain the motivation necessary for success, and what would be his premature return home. It would be a return that I know would cause him to feel much shame. In other words, I may be setting him up for a personal failure. Given the boy’s existing problems, such a failure would only serve to make his current unhealthy emotional situation even worse. But to do nothing, and leave him with his mother and current school situation, I felt, would see him gradually slide further down an emotional greasy pole. Who knows what would happen then?
“Kendal,” I began, “do you see yourself being able to run the way you want to if you don’t come to Queensland?”
Without hesitation, he shook his head firmly. So I continued, “Do you see yourself being able to run the way you want to if you do come to Queensland?”
This time, he looked at me forlornly, shrugged and said, “I guess we won’t know till I get there.”
It was a very good answer, leaving no doubt in my mind that, for whatever reasons, he wanted to come. But I had one final question that had to be put. “Kendal, if you come to Queensland, you and your mother may be apart for many months. What do you have to say about that”
Trying to look serious, but with the faintest of smiles, he replied, “I reckon she'll manage.”
That sealed the deal for me. This boy had both intelligence and a wry, smart-aleck sense of humour. I was suddenly feeling optimistic as I suggested we return to the lounge where his mother and Ross were talking.
Kendal’s Thoughts
When Dr. Ross first said I might go to Queensland for several months on a weight loss program I half-freaked. Like any teenager, my first instinct was to reject a change proposed by an adult. I’d often heard it said that most old people were set in their ways. Well, the same may be said of a lot of young guys my age at the time. This was especially true if one was lazy, unmotivated, or both, as in my case. Part of me knew that things had to change, but the question was how much of a change.
So I measured the distance as-the-crow-flies from Melbourne to Hervey Bay on my wall map of Australia. It was nineteen hundred kilometres. The furthest I had ever travelled away from home alone before was less than a quarter of that on a school camp. I really would be on my own.
But when I went to school the next day, the regular bouts of teasing about my size were added to with an insensitive comment by a teacher, who called me a hippo, and a physical assault by another student. I started to think of the possibility that school kids in a large coastal town like Hervey Bay wouldn’t be any better or worse than my current, big-city classmates. Perhaps Dr. Dennis might be able to tell me if I asked him.
Not wishing to make it too obvious, I first wanted to know about what life would be like up there. And I guess I wasn’t too happy with a reply that made it sound almost like an army boot camp. My current routine at home of sleeping-in, eating what I liked, watching as much TV as I wanted and not doing anything to help out around the place would disappear. Instead, I would have to follow a strict, disciplined schedule of getting-up and going to bed, having regular exercise and activity, and consuming healthy foods and drinks. There would be a total ban on high fat, high sugar, low fibre junk. Food addiction or not, I was to be limited to an absolute maximum intake of fifteen hundred calories (six thousand three hundred kilojoules). Dr. Dennis did not explain what he actually meant by regular exercise and activity. I could only guess. And the term ‘food addiction’ had never before been said in front of me. It really seemed like I was to be on some sort of reality TV game show for fat kids. So in my opinion, I would gain nothing by going to Queensland.
Then he told me I was to be home-schooled. That really got my attention, as I hated my high school so much. Being taught somewhere by myself away from any chance of taunts and insults would be heaven. Even my mother could be critical and sarcastic at times, as well as pushy. It was just Dr. Dennis’s own style of weight loss training that I was unsure of. How pushy was he going to be, as well as critical and sarcastic? I couldn't possibly have known. So I hoped for the best, and told myself it couldn’t be that bad.
But my first challenge came quickly as he started to get inside my head. Without warning, Dr. Dennis said, “Complete this statement...If you really knew me, you’d know...”
If he really knew me, what would he know? That was almost a scary question, which I had to think about. In the past, I’d heard people who didn’t understand something say, “I’m lost.” So I decided to make that my answer. I had no real idea what was happening in my life, but wanted to figure it out. At the same time, I didn’t want to make it too easy for him, and so pointed at my dictionary when he asked what I meant. And much to my surprise, he not only went and fetched it himself, but the definitions he read out actually made a lot of sense to me. I realised that I was lost.
Then his final question also came without warning, “Tell me what it is you want to do, but fear you will never be able to do?”
That went even deeper inside my head. I remembered back to a time before I was obese when I was just a bit chubby. I liked to run everywhere all the time, and could do it without getting tired. I even tried little athletics. But the only running events in my age group at the time were all sprints, in which I bombed-out. There was no endurance racing, and I quickly lost interest. So I decided that it wouldn’t hurt if I pointed at my overhead poster of Jared Tallent and told Dr. Dennis of my desire to run.
But he still wasn’t satisfied, and drilled even deeper into my mind by asking about being able to fulfil my dream at home and in Hervey Bay. It was obvious to me, even at that age, nothing positive would happen if I did nothing. Going to Queensland, however? I felt a bit depressed this time when I couldn’t answer that question either, but really needed to. It would be worth heading north just to find the answer. I only hoped that he wouldn’t start asking me about when my dad was alive, Dad’s bad attitude towards me and his constant arguments with Mum, and the lousy family life I had.
Fortunately, the last thing Dr. Dennis wanted to know was how I felt about leaving home and being away from my mother. I could have given him the truthful straight answer, that if it meant no regular school and seeing if I could run again, I really didn’t care. Instead, I was a bit of a smart-ass, and he tried to cover his smile.
It was at that moment, that I decided I liked Dr. Dennis. All I wanted was for him to treat me right, unlike my parents.
OUR AGREEMENT
Kendal and I returned to the lounge. My decision to accept Kendal as a boarder in my home had actually surprised me. I had never imagined myself doing something like this. It was mainly a gut instinct about the boy, from the way he related to me, that was the primary reason, like a special factor.
Gina and Ross stopped talking when we entered. I didn’t waste any time with more small talk. I told them of my willingness to have Kendal live at my house as an official boarder. This would be for the duration of his cooperation in whatever exercise and diet program I devised until he reached his goal weight.
Of course, I would not be charging any fees for my professional services. My only expectation was that all of Kendal’s regular necessary costs would be covered, plus his air fares. I then suggested a reasonable weekly boarding amount, and Gina nodded her approval.
I told them that as part of his board, Kendal would receive three regular meals per day and a light supper each evening, plus laundry, utilities, local transport and limited access to the Internet. I would also devise and implement an age-appropriate program of on-going exercise. But there would be no weekly allowance initially. Any unexpected personal needs would be paid for as required. I would also require he undergo a full medical check-up and blood testing by their family doctor, with a copy of the results coming to me. The only other item required was a separate Medicare Card for him to cover any medical costs. Gina agreed to apply for one immediately on Kendal’s behalf, and have it sent directly to my post office box in Urangan. What I didn’t mention at the time was the psychological counselling that I would be providing gratis.
My return home on the Virgin Blue flight from Melbourne Airport to Hervey Bay, with a change of planes in Sydney, was on Monday, 20th April. I gave Gina my flight numbers and advised her either to try and book a flight that evening via the Internet or phone, or see her local travel agent in the morning. If there were no seats available on my aircraft, there were flights later in the week on Wednesday and Friday. There were also frequent flights daily with Qantas to Brisbane, followed by a couple of regional flights with Qantaslink to Hervey Bay. I added that both airlines accepted responsibility for older children as ‘Unaccompanied Minors’ (UMs).
It therefore came as a surprise to me when I saw Gina’s great surprise, if not shock, at my suggestion that Kendal fly to Queensland as an UM. Her son was less than four years away from being a legal adult, and she was very worried about something as harmless as this. I knew from my own observations, kids much younger than Kendal flew as UMs everyday. Her reaction was an eye-opener. Ross and I exchanged quick glances.
Did she perceive her son as having a level of capability and maturity well below his chronological age, thus lacking proper respect and esteem for him as a boy about to become a man? Or was she just over-protective and controlling?
Finding answers to those two questions, I’m glad to say, was another issue for Ross to deal with in Kendal’s absence. And he’d have several months to do so. My focus now was entirely on Kendal and his needs, starting with the important matter of arranging the home-schooling. This would require parental consent. As Ross was much better acquainted with Gina than I was, and since it was his idea for Kendal to come up north in the first place, I hand-balled this item of business to him.
With that, the time had come for me to leave. I said my ‘goodbyes’ to Gina and Kendal, and offered my hand to the boy. Again he returned the handshake. But this time, he looked me in the eye and his grip was much firmer.
PREPARATION TO LEAVE MELBOURNE
Wednesday, 15 April - My mobile phone rang mid-morning. It was Ross calling to advise me that Kendal had been unable to get seats on both of my flights back to Hervey Bay on the coming Monday, but had done so on the following Wednesday, 22nd April. Although Gina had still showed some reservations about Kendal travelling as an UM, Ross had persuaded her it would be okay. So with the travel arrangements taken care of, that now left Ross with only the home-schooling to be sorted.
The main thing on my mind before departure was devising the best possible diet. Due to my late wife’s obsession with activities in the kitchen, I learned very early in our marriage how to prepare good meals. Mona had been an excellent teacher. My concern, therefore, was choosing the most appropriate ingredients, not what to do with them.
Fortunately, the rehab unit I had established was served by a very competent consultant nutritionist, Michelle Wright, (formerly Michelle Sarah until her marriage in 2002). Michelle had been a part of the rehab unit since its early days, and was one of Ross’s old school friends. Also, she had been rescued in that same blizzard by the same classmate who’d saved Ross, and after whom Ross had named his son. So I contacted her immediately to say “G’day” and arrange a meeting. As luck would have it, she was going to be at the unit that afternoon, and had fifteen minutes to spare during her tea break.
I met with Michelle at three o’clock, and picked her brain as intensely as I could during the short time available, taking written notes as I went. Basically, what she told me was, more-or-less, what I expected. Kendal had to avoid all processed junk foods totally, strictly limit his intake of other processed non-junk foods, and concentrate on fresh foods, primarily plant-sourced. To illustrate this, she roughly drew a food pyramid. At the narrow apex of the pyramid were sugars, fats and oils to be consumed in the very least amounts. Half way down the pyramid where it was wider, moderate consumption of low-fat dairy products, various lean meats, fish and eggs were okay. But it was foods at the very wide base of the pyramid, where Michelle had written fruit, vegetables, low-sugar cereals and wholemeal bread, that were to represent the bulk of Kendal’s calorie intake. The necessity for change was obvious, as his current food pyramid was very much upside down. The boy was in for a real shock.
Apart from Michelle’s food pyramid and strong menu suggestions, another potential weapon in my arsenal was a thirteen-year-old boy named Donaldson Briggs. He was the youngest son of my neighbours, and the typical ‘kid next door’ who was called ‘Donny’ or ‘Duck’ by other children. He reminded me of Charlie Bucket, the main child character in the movie ‘Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory’.
With both his grandfathers now deceased, I was almost looked upon as some kind of substitute grandpa by Donaldson, which was fine with me. Last year, he had even asked if he could call me Pop. I’m sure the boy would have walked barefoot on hot coals for me if I had asked him to. I had come to know him, his parents and two much older siblings well.
Although standing about the same height as Kendal, in build, Donaldson was about as opposite as it gets. His physique was quite lean, but without being unhealthily skinny. His parents, Eddie and Maggie, were ‘greenies’ and vegetarian, committed to healthy eating, and had raised their kids that way. But with Donaldson, they had done so not just as a matter of principle, but also out of medical necessity. Unfortunately, the boy had been born with a genetic condition called Phenylketonuria (PKU). Occurring in one birth out of every ten thousand, it is a disorder that prevents the body completely metabolising animal proteins. This can result in toxins causing serious problems such as mental retardation. Sufferers, therefore, have to live a strict vegan lifestyle, and drink a specially formulated daily liquid concoction to offset the loss of animal protein in the diet. Fortunately, Donaldson had a good family and was managing his situation well. But more important for Kendal and me, he was intelligent, kind-hearted, and had a very imaginative sense of humour. I hoped that Donaldson would be a good friend to Kendal, maybe even a ‘dietary role-model’. I was looking forward very much to introducing the boys to each other.
Sunday, 19 April - This being my last full day in Melbourne before heading home, Ross invited my son, Darren, his family, and me to a barbecue lunch. I welcomed this opportunity for a final get-together with the Boyds, and meet some of his friends. It was also an unexpected bonus when I saw Kendal and Gina had been invited, and he greeted me with eye contact and another firm handshake. It was a good sign, but I was interested to see how the boy would behave at a ‘greasy food fest’ like a backyard barbecue.
Not surprisingly, he pigged-out, eating two sausages, two burgers and a chop, most with slices of white bread. In doing so, he totally ignored the healthier salads and boiled rice, and got stuck into the sugary soft drinks. Whether he was doing so out of pure habit or the knowledge that his world was about to change radically, I didn’t know. So I just said to myself, “Make the most of it, kid, because it’s the last you’ll have for a long time.”
It was as I was finishing my own meal that Ross came over and sat next to me. He pointed at a guy aged about forty who appeared to be chatting-up his wife, Sally. Ross asked, “D’you know who that is?”
The man looked vaguely familiar. But unable to place him, I shook my head, so Ross continued, “That’s the chap Sally and I named our son after.”
The penny dropped immediately. It was Wesley Auld, the journalist and Ross’s childhood school friend. Here was the guy who had saved Ross twenty-seven years earlier in the blizzard. He was also the man who’d written a feature piece in the print media on the rehab unit in 2001, while it was treating a teenage alcohol abuser. The young fellow in question, named Jac, was aged just seventeen at the time, and had been diagnosed with PTSD after enduring a number of traumatic incidents, both in Australia and California. He and Wesley were very close friends, and Wesley had pulled some quite big strings to get him admitted at short notice.
I nodded my head. “Yes, now I remember him. I guess he must be a good mate.”
Ross also nodded. “That’s for sure. Ten of us owe him big time, which is why I have a bit of a favour to ask.”
“Hello, hello,” I thought, “what’s Ross up to?” So I asked him what the favour was.
It seems that Wesley liked to write the occasional human-interest story. Ross felt that what I was going to do with Kendal may just be suitable.
“...If I’m successful,” I interrupted. “Nothing’s guaranteed, Ross, you know that. And what about his and his mother’s consent?”
Ross had already considered every angle. So he asked me to keep detailed notes of what I do with Kendal, plus take a large number of digital photos during the process. That way, if things did work out well, we could offer the material to Wesley for a price, with the proceeds going into a trust fund for Kendal. Such a story may even inspire other obese teenagers to turn their lives around.
I replied by asking, “When did you become such a philanthropist?” To this, he smiled slightly and replied, “When I saw just how miserable Kendal was becoming...I knew that something well and truly had to be done, not just for his sake, but for all the other fat kids. There’re just too many, Dennis! And no way am I going to let my Wesley and Angela end up like them!”
My ex-student was quite right, and I understood his frustration. Two or three decades ago, kids like Donaldson were the rule and kids like Kendal were the exception. Nowadays, things have turned around through a hundred and eighty degrees. It has become less common to see healthy kids without an ounce of fat anywhere on their bodies. A majority of them have some expansion of the waistline. So I agreed to the request. We may not have been able to change society, but if Ross and I could make a difference in Kendal’s life, and those of a few others, then all well and good.
I asked him, “Have you spoken to Wesley Auld about your idea?” It was to my relief when Ross told me that he hadn’t. For me, it meant there would be no other pressure except the expectations of the four people involved. And that was just the way I wanted it to stay for the time being.
For the rest of the afternoon, my family and I enjoyed the hospitality of Ross and his family. I also chatted informally with Gina and Kendal. Now that his travel to Queensland was confirmed, he wanted to know more about what would be happening during his prolonged stay with me. They were questions that I answered in general terms. I did not go into details on purpose. The less he knew of what he was in for the better. I didn’t want him stressing about it.