by Mary Moody
Lynne keeps a daily diary in which she records everything that happens with Isabella. Her feeds, her medications, her bowel and bladder movements, her sleep and her general state of mind. Often little Isabella is happy and will appear engaged and interested, making eye contact and smiling broadly. At other times she is distressed by severe seizures or the nausea that is part of the cyclic vomiting. It’s heartbreaking.
One aspect of this journey that has troubled me has been the attitudes of some – though certainly not all – members of the medical profession. Initially there seemed to be a lack of faith in Lynne and Ethan because they were young, inexperienced parents. During a couple of consultations when they reported their observations about Isabella, their version of events was doubted. Indeed there were suggestions that they had exaggerated the seriousness of Isabella’s condition, or embellished her reactions to certain feeding regimes or medications. This was outrageous, given that as her parents they were living and breathing her problems night and day while the ‘experts’ were only seeing her for ten or fifteen minutes at a time. It was in response to this that Lynne decided to keep her detailed diary.
At one point, unconvinced that they were making accurate reports, one doctor wanted Isabella to be admitted to hospital for several weeks so she could be kept under observation. Lynne and Ethan took turns to stay with her and it didn’t take long for the nurses, and then finally the doctor, to agree that Isabella’s parents’ description of her behaviour and reactions was totally accurate.
Lynne and Ethan decided to try for their second child when Isabella was about two and a half years old. They had been seeing a genetic counsellor to determine the odds of having another child with a disability, yet no definitive answer could be given. So they went ahead, feeling optimistic that this time their child would be healthy and normal. The geneticist was disapproving, feeling they were irresponsible for choosing to risk a pregnancy until given the all-clear. That could have taken years.
Lynne had a healthy pregnancy; the baby appeared one hundred percent fit in routine ultrasounds. Lynne and Ethan declined an amniocentesis at eighteen weeks because of the risk of miscarriage. This test is routinely used to check for genetic and congenital disorders, and was recommended by the geneticist. Again their decision was frowned upon. Confident in their own judgement they went ahead with a homebirth under the supervision of a midwife. Caius was born blissfully, without the slightest complication. It was such a joyful moment after what had been a tough few years.
During the course of Isabella’s treatment her parents also declined surgical intervention. There is an operation that can prevent a child from vomiting; called fundoplication, it literally means that the upper curve of the stomach is wrapped around the esophagus and stitched. Ethan and Lynne talked to a lot of people about this procedure, sought second and third opinions and decided, ultimately, that it would make Isabella’s life more miserable because of the long periods of unrelieved nausea that would result. There was criticism of this decision.
They certainly were never opposed to surgical procedures per se – indeed last year she underwent a quite risky removal of her tonsils and adenoids in the hope it would help her breathe more easily. It was a success. But a recent operation under a general anaesthetic to remove some baby teeth which had become embedded in her gums resulted in a serious bout of pneumonia because she inhaled fluid at some point during the procedure. So everything brings a risk and therefore the decision to ‘intervene’ is at times a very troubling one.
It’s my belief that parents should be listened to with much greater respect by the medical profession. Their decisions about the care of their child should also be honoured. There can be prejudice against young parents and there is sometimes an arrogant view that ‘doctor knows best.’ The doctor isn’t the one getting up to the disabled child three times a night, or cradling them when they become distressed with constipation (from the medication) or bouts of violent vomiting.
Fortunately the vast majority of the specialists and paediatricians and nurses have been fantastic and have recognised the devotion with which Ethan and Lynne care for their precious daughter. Indeed the head nursing sister at our local hospital, where they used to take Isabella when they lived at the farm, told me they were the most wonderful parents she had encountered in all her decades of paediatric nursing. All we could do was give them our unqualified support in the knowledge that all their actions were directed at making Isabella’s life as happy and comfortable as possible. Watching them cope with her continuing problems was certainly a reality check for me, balanced as it was against the more superficial and trivial aspects of my life and career.
8
Perhaps the Channel 9 executive had spoken the truth when he told me the daytime chat show would eventually go ahead, for one day in 2006 an email popped up in my inbox from the network’s casting director, Henrie Stride. I assumed Henrie was a bloke, but she turned out to be a warm and friendly young woman, who told me the network was developing a new show, and that she wanted me to come in for an interview with Mia Freedman, the network’s creative services director. Was this The Watercooler reincarnated, or something completely different? I was intrigued, and agreed to a meeting the following week.
I knew a little about Mia Freedman, who was a high-profile, clever young journalist who had trained on magazines at Australian Consolidated Press – the same background as my own. I was curious about her role at Channel 9, having followed the reports of the continuing upheavals at the network in the pages of the press. My memory of working at the station all those decades ago was of a very male-oriented environment, and I was aware that more recently the network had scored with programs like The Footy Show, which gave good ratings, and tried to compensate for failures in other areas, such as news, current affairs and the morning show.
For the interview I dressed in a strappy sun frock and high heels, having picked up a few clues from my previous casting experience, and decided to indulge in a spray tan to colour up my pale, freckly skin. Henrie met me in the foyer and once more I found myself in the lift heading for the executive suites on the third floor. Mia greeted me enthusiastically. A beautiful, delicate young woman with an open face and ready smile, she immediately engaged me, saying: ‘You are hot, Mary. Just look at you. Do you mind me asking how old you are?’
I was thrown off guard, not by Mia asking my age but by her use of the word ‘hot’, which I had never heard in this context before (I would hear it many, many times over the next six months). It’s youth-speak. When she said I was ‘hot’ I momentarily wondered if I was having yet another menopausal hot flush, but no, it turned out that she meant that I looked young and groovy for a grandmother of eight. I was off to a good start.
After chatting broadly about the concept for the new show I confessed to Mia and Henrie that as I don’t watch daytime television and have never subscribed to pay TV, I hadn’t seen the American program The View. But I told them I had a good friend in Bathurst who watched the show religiously. ‘I learn a lot and I laugh’ was the way my friend described it. Mia loved this take on it; she repeated it several times, smiling widely.
The program we discussed that day was to be called The Catch-Up, and sounded similar in most respects to the one that hadn’t made it to air two years before. Mia and Henrie told me they planned to interview a lot of potential cast members but were not doing auditions, which was a great relief to me. They aimed to make up their mind quite quickly and let me know. Was I available the following year, five days a week?
I said yes.
Within three weeks they had narrowed down the field. Mia wrote:
Our casting blueprint was always: interesting, complex, smart, funny, warm women who are prepared to laugh at the world and themselves, be honest about their experiences and express their opinions.
Of all the women we spoke to about this project (and there were dozens), Henrie and I have whittled it down to four we adore – and you’re one of those four.
The concept was to throw together a mix of women of different ages and perspectives. We were told we had been chosen for what we could ‘bring to the table’ in terms of our varied lives and experiences.
It would seem that my main qualification, apart from my previous experience on ABC-TV’s gardening show, was the fact that I was both a mother and grandmother, and had ‘lived’ life, especially in the last few years; Libbi, of course, had a high-profile media career and had recently had her first child at the age of forty-one; Zoe was enthusiastic and bubbly and had worked in radio and television, but she was also a single mother with two young daughters; Lisa was a successful businesswoman who had survived abuse as a teenager, and later a period of drug addiction, a succession of miscarriages and, more recently, aggressive skin cancer. Lisa’s right-wing politics were also fundamental in her selection for the panel. There was a strong view from the production team that we needed to have lively debate on the show – that it would be ratings death if we were ‘in violent agreement’ – a term used often during the pre-production period.
Our different physical appearances were another factor in the casting: a blonde (Zoe), a brunette (Libbi), a redhead (me) and a sultry ebony (Lisa). Libbi’s weight loss and association with Jenny Craig was appealing to women viewers at home with similar issues, and she was confident and sexy on camera. Lisa and Zoe were both stunningly good looking. I was to represent older viewers, but from the more youthful perspective of a typical baby boomer. I wondered why there had been no attempt to include a multicultural aspect to the casting – I had suggested several fantastic Aboriginal women who I knew could hold their own in a lively debate. Libbi’s Jewishness was the only bit of ethnic variation in an otherwise very vanilla panel.
The game plan we were presented with was simple. During the early weeks of the program we should establish our individual characters and personalities by gradually revealing snippets of personal information about our lives. Then, when we had the viewers charmed and ‘on side’, we should be more forthcoming about our views and engage in high-spirited conversations, taking totally opposing sides on the issues of the day. We could become heated and express our views passionately, but we must never, ever get personal or unpleasant with each other on camera. We were to portray the image of four good friends who were genuinely fond of each other but quite comfortable agreeing to disagree. Not particularly easy given that we hadn’t even met!
Mia, Henrie and the executive producer, Tara Smithson, were busy organising a get-together that would be spread over several days so that we could relax and get to know each other. We had been asked to submit a short biography so we could discover a little bit more about each other before we were brought together for that first meeting. It would also provide the basis of a media release when Nine’s CEO, Eddie McGuire, and other network executives gave us the green light to proceed.
I sent a fairly dry, factual summation of my career highlights and some brief personal details, as did both Libbi and Zoe. Lisa sent a long and involved first-person account of her life and her various triumphs over adversity that read something like a misery memoir. It detailed childhood abuse, overcoming adversity to build a brilliant career, and a passionate romance with her husband, David Oldfield, based around a shared love of military history, scuba diving and pistol shooting. It would soon make its way into the wider world of the media.
Mia sent us an excited email detailing a three-day ‘love-in’, which would begin with two days of getting to know each other and workshopping our chemistry and conversation skills. On the third day, we would be given full hair and make-up, and a ‘screen test’ would be shot that would immediately be sent around the network for final approval.
‘The mantra I have in my head for this show? I learn something and I laugh . . . that’s the key,’ Mia wrote.
Our first meeting was in the boardroom. Déjà vu. I was a little late because of a prior commitment that I couldn’t change, so by the time I arrived my co-hosts were having a casual lunch of salads and sandwiches. It was the first time I had met the executive producer, Tara, who was bright and bubbly, but of course the most important mission was meeting and getting a handle on the other ‘girls’.
‘Aren’t we having wine?’ I asked, typically.
I thought it would help to relax everyone, and it certainly did, although Libbi abstained as she was still breastfeeding her baby, Che. A couple of glasses later we were laughing and exchanging banter like four old friends. We were all obviously excited and feeling pretty good about ourselves. Even Lisa, who I feared would be a dragon lady, turned out to be warm, funny and engaging. Libbi was more serious than I expected, with a quick wit and the great sense of humour that had been prominent in her previous work. I liked her immediately. Zoe was also warm and funny and I thought together we would make an interesting team.
The mood sobered slightly when we were told it was time to meet Eddie McGuire. I had done some last-minute research on Eddie because, never having followed sporting programs or quiz shows, I had only a vague idea who he was. I recalled reading in the media pages that he had been appointed CEO of the network some time back, but gave it scant thought. My son Aaron, who plays AFL and knew all about Eddie’s passion for the Collingwood Football Club, gave me a quick background briefing, which was a lifesaver.
We were ushered to the inner sanctum of his office and were immediately put at ease. A man of considerable charm, Eddie is the sort who can mix it with anyone from Australia’s richest and most powerful (including the Packers) to the most rabid footy fan. And even women, as I soon discovered. He enthused about his hopes for the program, and gave us some tips on how to avoid talking over the top of each other when debating issues on the panel, gleaned from his years in broadcasting.
For some reason I felt a need to strike a blow for those of us for whom sport is not the meaning of life. I suggested to Eddie that I didn’t regard sport as news, that it irritated me to see sport constantly on the front page of the newspaper, and not on the back page where I felt it belonged. I was rather foolishly waving a red rag at a bull, but that’s my way. He disagreed, but charmingly so. The others looked at me askance. Why was I baiting the boss? I suppose I just wanted to make it plain where I was coming from, and what he could expect of me on the show.
The morning of the third day, the screen test, we were given a makeover bright and early by the make-up artists and hairdressers. It was fun being transformed into glamour queens – little did I realise how I would eventually come to resent being imprisoned in the make-up chair for two hours every morning.
We talked through the topics we would debate before the cameras. I was disturbed that most of our discussion topics revolved around celebrities. Mia and Tara took the view that the broader issues facing women at home could best be tackled through this window. If some famous actress was having weight-loss difficulties or marital problems or addiction issues or psychological problems, we could thrash it out by using the celebrity as a ‘hook’.
I couldn’t imagine how some of the vacuous American bimbos depicted in women’s magazines were significant or relevant to the more grounded and intelligent audience I hoped would watch our show. But I also felt I was on thin ice, since I really had no idea who any of these celebrities were, or what they had done. How could I talk confidently about people I had never even heard of?
We were introduced to a good-looking young man who was to be our link to this celebrity gossip. Mia was very excited when she told us that Pete Timms was to have a regular spot on the show. Zoe and Lisa gasped with apparent delight, Libbi looked bemused, and I sat looking blank. It turned
out he had been a finalist on the original season of Big Brother, had gone on to become a minor celebrity in the gossip columns, and was now working for Woman’s Day magazine. I tried desperately to look enthusiastic.
All made-up and ready to record the screen test, I dashed into the Channel 9 loos for a nervous pee, and realised Libbi was in the next cubicle.
‘How long do you think we’ll last?’ she asked.
‘A week, a month, who knows?’ I responded. We giggled. It would be a great adventure, if nothing else. It was our running joke for the next five months. ‘Still here!’ we’d laugh disbelievingly.
The day we shot the screen test I was uncomfortable with the subject matter chosen for debate. Libbi and I had both suggested various political issues that could be debated, but the view from the production side was that politics was generally a turn-off. It was deemed boring for women at home. We had a half-hearted attempt at discussing the coup in Fiji, which was plastered all over the front pages that day, but none of us knew very much about what was going on in Suva, and there was certainly no time for research to help us discuss it. It worked against our push for more serious content.
In the end we talked about fashion, discussing how men and women have a different view about what clothes make a woman look good (I had no view on this) and the drug habit of some rock star whose name was totally unfamiliar to me.
After the screen test I emailed Libbi:
For me it was a struggle to think of much to say about any of the topics – it was over before it began. It felt like a lot of 30-second grabs – not a proper conversation.
Anyway, when I got home I just sat on the floor and cuddled Isabella (sprung from hospital this afternoon) and remembered that real life is more important than the superficial stuff of women’s magazines.
