My late daughter’s first school dance helped her feel less alone

My late daughter, Jasmine, was 16 when she attended her first school dance. For most teenagers, this would have been just another Friday night, involving some awkward slow songs and maybe a few embarrassing photos. But for Jasmine, it was something she had been dreaming about for years that I had quietly hoped she would get to experience.

Cystic fibrosis (CF) shaped every part of Jasmine’s life. Her days revolved around bronchial drainage treatments and nebulizer sessions, leaving little space for spontaneity. Every morning before school, she sat at the kitchen table with me, counting out her pancreatic enzymes and swallowing them with water. She always carried extra medications in her bag, along with backup enzymes and a list of emergency instructions I had laminated for her teachers and the school nurse.

She had always been careful. For years, Jasmine told her friends she was too busy to attend the school dance. The truth was that she was scared. Crowded rooms could trigger coughing fits, and perfume in the air could make it hard to breathe. Missing even one round of bronchial drainage or nebulizer treatments could mean a night in the hospital instead of the gymnasium.

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But that spring, something shifted. Maybe she was tired of always saying no. Maybe she just wanted to feel like other girls her age, even if only for a few hours. I noticed her glancing at the dance flyer that hung on the fridge. I looked at her and said, “You should go, Jaz. I will help you get ready.” That was all the encouragement she needed.

For the next two weeks, Jasmine prepared. She picked out a simple blue dress that made her feel brave. I helped her adjust her treatment schedule so she would have enough energy for the night. I made sure she did her bronchial drainage right before leaving, and I helped her pack her clutch with enzymes, medications, and a small bottle of water.

Jasmine checked her phone twice to make sure I could reach her. I drove her to school, telling her not to worry and to enjoy herself. I was a proud father watching my Jasmine leave the car and immediately run to her friends, who cheered when they saw her and quickly pulled her into the school. The music was so loud I could hear it outside. As I drove away, I was both excited and nervous for her, as any father would be.

More than her illness

Jasmine was careful the whole night. She took breaks outside in the cool air whenever she felt her chest tighten. She slipped away to the nurse’s office to take her medications and enzymes before eating anything. The school nurse gave her a reassuring smile every time she checked in. It wasn’t easy, but Jasmine managed. She did not let CF keep her from the things she wanted to do.

She was not expecting to meet anyone special. She just wanted to make memories. But halfway through the evening, a boy from her English class asked her if she wanted to dance. She later told me he was shy and taller than she remembered, but he seemed nervous, too, which made her feel braver.

They danced to a slow song surrounded by the blur of other students. She told him about her CF and her daily treatments, and showed him the bottle of enzymes in her clutch. She explained to me that he listened closely and then shared his own fears and worries, the ones he never talked about with anyone.

Jasmine realized then that everyone carried some sort of invisible weight or worry. Hers just happened to involve a lot of medications and a strict routine. For the first time, she said, she did not feel so alone in her difference.

The dance ended. I was waiting outside in the car, pretending to read while glancing up every few seconds. She got in and told me everything, talking quickly about the music, the snacks, her friends, and the boy who had listened to her story without flinching.

The next morning, Jasmine sat at the kitchen table again, lining up her enzymes and taking her regular medications. She was tired but happy. I poured her juice and smiled, telling her I was proud she had gone. Jasmine knew there would always be more nights spent doing treatments than going to parties, but she also knew she could live a life full of both challenges and joy.

She was 16, she had gone to her first school dance, and she had met someone who saw her as more than her illness. For Jasmine, that was enough. And for me, as her father, it was everything.

Note: Cystic Fibrosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Cystic Fibrosis News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to cystic fibrosis.