THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, July 6, 1996 TAG: 9607060342
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Charlise Lyles
LENGTH: 77 lines
Graduation season has come and gone - all the kudos for accomplishments, the honors, pomp and circumstance.
But Judy Hitchcock still thinks of Radford University's ceremony. Her daughter, Jane Vukovitz, was awarded a master's degree in education and a special award.
Jane was not at the ceremony.
She died Dec. 30, at age 26.
Her death certificate states the cause as ``cachexia.'' Judy Hitchcock puts it more simply:
``Starvation.''
For nearly 10 years, Jane battled bulimia. The strange affliction of image possesses 11.5 per 100,000 people, mostly young women, sending them on uncontrollable bingeing and purging sprees.
One day, as a teenager, Jane asked, ``Mom, am I fat?''
Five feet 5 inches tall, about 125 pounds, she was a beautiful young lady. ``Soft-spoken, a little shy. Neat, clean,'' a friend said. She wore sweaters, a simple string of pearls, nothing flamboyant or raunchy like other punk-rock-era kids.
Jane asked other questions: Where to buy diet pills?
``Mom, am I fat?''
In 1987, Jane finished at First Colonial High School and headed to college.
``She was going to be a teacher,'' said Hitchcock. ``That was the only thing she ever dreamed of.''
She met an athletic boyfriend. ``He had her running five miles a day,'' Hitchcock said.
At Thanksgiving break, Jane came home and bought Ex-Lax.
``Mom, am I fat?''
Summer vacation, she came home weighing 110 pounds.
In December, she phoned home. ``Mommy, you'll have to come and get me.''
88 pounds.
She spent the next 2 1/2 years battling what Hitchcock came to call ``the Beast.''
First there was denial. Then inpatient treatment. Outpatient. Group therapy.
Hitchcock could tell when the bingeing and purging peaked. Jane's eyes dulled gray. Her lips chapped. ``Her hair looked completely dead, no luster to it, just like straw.''
In 1994, Jane returned to school, convinced she had wrestled it down.
``These young girls think they have it under control, and it has them,'' said Hitchcock.
``So many times I tried not to lose my temper. I'd say, `Jane, I just don't understand.' And she'd say, `I'd stop, but I can't.' ''
Jane died in her sleep.
But she conquered ``the Beast.''
Her drive, passion to teach, to bring meaning to many lives, never ceased. Even as the illness weakened her, she took the tough path in class. In summer, she tutored. She went to Harlem to design a school curriculum.
Everyone from professors to cafeteria workers wrote two- and three-page letters, typed, single-spaced, praising Jane.
``She came, she worked hard, and she made all of us richer, much richer, for having known her and her desire to contribute to the happiness of others as she prepared for her life's career,'' wrote Professor Harvey R. Jahn. ``Jane was a giver in every sense of the word.''
Clearly, she was a woman of substance, possessed of inner and outer beauty, much more than the physical image that consumed her.
It's July now.
From her apartment window, Hitchcock sometimes sees suspiciously thin girls in bikinis walking along the beach. Or she sees them on the TV in her living room that faces Jane's photograph on a wall.
And she wonders whether they're asking someone, ``Am I fat?''
Then her eyes fall on the shelf where Jane's red, gold, blue and black master's hood sits. Next to it is a Radford University memorial award.
Each year it will be given in the name of Jane L. Vukovitz ``to a student who excels in character and scholarship.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
Jane Vukovitz by CNB