Most people know, or at least remember, what it was like to feel unwell at school. For Wayne it was no different. He felt achy and under the weather that Wednesday, 26 May 2004, so he went to see the school health nurse. Concerned that Wayne's glands were up, she phoned home to suggest that his mother take him to see a doctor. For precaution's sake, that's what they did.
They were understandably surprised when their simple visit to the doctor ended up requiring blood tests at North Shore Hospital. Their concern heightened when the house surgeon requested that Wayne remain under observation overnight, as he had a "serious blood disorder." Unable to obtain any further information, Wayne's family left the hospital that night with an indescribable sense of foreboding.
Nothing could have prepared them for the shock of the next morning.
"Wayne has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia."
The haematologist's announcement met stunned silence. Confused, it was Wayne himself who spoke first. His Year 12 mathematics had taught him that the term 'acute' was used to describe a small angle.
"Does that mean that it's a small leukaemia?"
"No." The haematologist paused. "It means that it's very aggressive."
Life as Wayne knew it was suddenly over. He was transferred by ambulance to Auckland City Hospital and started immediately on a four week course of chemotherapy.
It was best case, worst case scenario. Though cancer was the worst diagnosis anyone could expect, there was every reason why Wayne, in his prime, should go into remission. Until when, on 9 June, two weeks into his chemo, Wayne woke in the middle of the night with a sharp stabbing pain below his left eye.