For the Love of a Son: A Miracle

Yesterday, November 12, when I began this post, was Joan's son Gary's birthday. Not long ago, Joan recounted the story of how close she came to losing him—and the miracle that he is still with us today.

Because of his birthday and because I found these pictures of him and his sister, taken when he was a baby I remembered this story and decided to share it.

Debbie holding her baby brother, Gary Zimmerman with their Grandma Muirhead close by

Debbie, making sure her baby brother is safe.

Now, I'll tell you, to the best of my ability to remember all that Joan told, me with the help of Gary's and Debbie's memories, the events that occurred approximately a year and a half to two years after that picture was taken.

Being a young mother has it's anxious time, but none so great as when a child develops life-threatening symptoms that stump the doctors. When Gary was two years old, his legs began giving out, losing strength and coordination. He was quickly losing the ability to walk, and he was in pain. Debbie remembers her parents wrapping his legs in hot towels to afford him some relief.

He'd been a healthy baby until that time successfully reaching all the usual milestones of babyhood accomplishment: rolling, crawling, walking, and talking. So the sudden weakness and uncontrollable muscle movements were alarming. Joan was terrified.

Gary became a case of great interest at Children's Hospital in Denver. Joan told me about a hoard of doctors convening in a room to observe Gary, making him walk as best he could over and over again, as they tried to diagnose him. (Gary's earliest memories are of his stay at Children's. He remembers getting his finger poked every morning, a rocking horse.) After a lot of time and consultation, they finally decided Gary had dystonia: "a disorder characterized by involuntary muscle contractions that cause slow repetitive movements or abnormal postures. The movements may be painful, and some individuals with dystonia may have a tremor or other neurological features.… The cause for the majority of cases is not known."

That was probably the hardest part for Gary's parents and loved ones—the unknown. Not knowing what was wrong, not knowing why, not knowing what could be done, not knowing if he would survive.

The doctors finally recommended a very risky brain surgery that could be performed by a neurology specialist in New York City. What an agonizing decision Joan and John had  to make. They wondered if it was the right thing to do even as they tried to find the financial means to do it. It seemed the only hope for curing him, but there were no guarantees that it would work. I know there were a lot of prayers on his behalf.

Sometime after they brought him home from Children's Hospital, Gary began getting well. In fact, as I understand it, his recovery was almost immediate. The doctors had no explanation for this turn of events, but there was great rejoicing by all who knew and loved this precious child and his family. There was never any recurrence of symptoms. 

Joan, a young mother

Four Generations: Grandma Muirhead, Joan (holding Gary), Dad, and Debbie in front

Joan, Gary, Janet and Debbie (in front)

These pictures were taken the summer I was fifteen— the summer I lived in Craig, Colorado, with my sister, Joan and her husband, John. I was hired to look after their two children, whom I adored, while both Joan and John went to work each day. And, because I was there with the kids, they occasionally went out in the evening for a date night

On one such night, after my niece and nephew were tucked into bed and sound asleep, I made sure all the doors were locked before going to sleep myself. When Joan and Johnny came home, they realized they'd forgotten their house key. They pounded on the door, but we all slept through it. They came to window next to the bed where I slept and tapped on it, yelling my name. I slept through it. They finally managed to break into their house.  Shortly after they got inside, Gary began to cry. I awakened immediately, jumped out of bed, and was rushing to his crib when I saw Joan, heading the same way. I guess my brain was tuned for certain sounds—the babies—not the adults.

How honored I was that Joan, such a dedicated, loving, caring young mother would entrust her children to my care—even after that episode. At that young age, I certainly didn't know all that I needed to know in order to be the perfect nanny. I'd had no formal instruction, just the experience of living with younger twin sisters and a little brother—and holding them every chance I got when they were babies. Years of experience and college classes in child development have taught me a lot that I wish I had known when my children were growing up. But I can't remember making any big mistakes (though probably a lot of little ones and maybe some close calls) while watching Debbie and Gary.

I took them to playgrounds, walks around the neighborhood, and 'picnics' at the sandstone rock formations at the end of a street they lived on. I had a little camera and took a lot of pictures. Was I risking injury when I sat Gary on the edge of a merry-go-round and stood back to take his picture? I'm glad he didn't fall off. Did I push them too high on the swings to be perfectly safe? I don't know, but there were no serious accidents. They were fed and rocked and read to and happy, so I guess love was enough, and they survived the summer of the teenage nanny.

Both Deb and Gary have grown to be responsible, successful, caring, compassionate adults. Through the years, though separated by many miles, Joan and I talked a lot. Anecdotes about our children, of course, were frequent topics. There's no doubt about her love, concern, and admiration for her kids. Love carried all of us through their growing-up years of joy, sorrow, worry and delight, weddings, babies, achievements, illnesses, and accidents.  The bond of love deepened even further during the years and months of Joan's cancer as we all got together more frequently.

Joan was always a wonderful mom, and the best big sister. We miss her.