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Cerebral Palsy - Back to News Menu
Binding ties: A family copes with cerebral palsy
By Paul Dunn, The Daily Reflector
June 13, 2005 - Chase Ralston rarely misses a chance to cheer on his older sister, Brianna. He's there when she swats home runs for her Greenville T-Ball team, there accompanying her on a toy piano when she strums her guitar, there in the seat beside her when she rides the school bus home from Wahl-Coates School and there when she wants him to watch television with her.
"They are extremely close," says their mom Melissa Ralston, who's lived in Greenville with husband Greg for the past three years. And that's been the "best thing that could ever have happened," she says.
Strengthening the muscles
The exercise equipment at the Greenville Aquatics and Fitness Center can prove challenging to even the most able-bodied. So the other week, when I noticed Melissa and Brianna negotiate one of the machines, I stopped to admire them.
Brianna's blue wheelchair sat empty a few feet away, necessary because of her cerebral palsy.
The fair-skinned, raven-haired 9-year-old sat in her mother's lap as their two sets of hands pulled the bar connected to the weights. This wasn't playtime at the gym; that much was obvious.
Occupational therapist Gina Branch stood nearby as Brianna and Melissa wrestled the weights. Branch's been working with Brianna once a week for the past two years. Brianna's cerebral palsy differs little from other cases Branch's seen in the past five years, though mom and daughter have fought against it as forcefully as anyone, Branch says.
"Her (Brianna's) attitude is great, and she has a great support system, too," says Branch, 39. "She smiles and wants to go to the movies and talks about her friends."
For Brianna, the weights are a means to a clearly defined goal: "It's a lot of work there (at the Aquatics center), but I do the weights to get strong so I can play T-Ball all the time," she says.
A young couple's struggle
In 1996, Ralston was pregnant and terrified – for good reason: She was about to have her second child, a decision she and Greg arrived at after much soul searching.
Four years earlier, she'd given birth to Brianna 10 weeks prematurely. Somewhere along the line – doctors don't know exactly when or how – Brianna developed brain damage. A brain scan at 3 weeks old revealed Brianna's cerebral palsy, defined as brain damage at or prior to birth.
The birth shocked the young couple, then in their late 20s. Melissa recalls grappling with what she calls the "5 stages of grief." Shock came first. Then denial. And then more denial.
"I spent the first three years of her life trying to get her functional," says Ralston, who has an associate's degree in physical therapy. "I was constantly doing therapy on that poor child."
The lack of substantial information on Brianna's condition made Ralston's second pregnancy that much more daunting. The couple wanted another child to help care for Brianna while Melissa and Greg were still alive and in case something befell them. The possibility of another early birth and potential brain damage to their second child pricked their consciences without letup.
"With Chase, it was very scary," Ralston recalls. "I didn't know how I would handle that (another early birth)."
Though Ralston carried Chase to full term, his birth didn't initially end their fears. It had taken three weeks to determine Brianna's condition.
But as Chase developed, the couple's fears eased. "With every milestone, I breathed a sigh of relief," Melissa says.
Just a year ago, Melissa gave birth to her third child, a blond-haired girl named Hailey. As with Chase, the Ralston's anxiety eased as the smiling infant grew into a toddler.
A blessing and a challenge
Melissa Ralston calls Brianna a "blessing." "Because of her (Brianna), we don't sweat the small stuff," Melissa says. "That's made our marriage stronger."
But occasionally – as when Ralston attempts to take all three kids out at once – the blessing disguises itself, she admits.
"For me to go out with all three children is just a very big deal," Ralston says. "At those times, there's a touch of resentment in me."
Because of her physical condition, Brianna must rely on family members to help her perform even the most rudimentary tasks, such as brushing her teeth, bathing and dressing. Brianna's able to watch television independently, but that's about all, her mom says.
"She's so dependent on us that it's hard for us to divide up our time equally (to the other kids)," Ralston says.
Brianna is equally as dependent during class at Wahl-Coates Elementary School, where her personal assistant stands ready all day to help her function as seamlessly as possible.
In the fall, Brianna will enter fourth grade at Wahl-Coates Elementary School, where she studies reading and mathematics in a special education setting but spends the rest of her time in mainstream classes.
Though Brianna's classmates are beginning to notice her underdeveloped social skills and maturity, they have nevertheless accepted her as one of their own, Ralston says.
"The kids in her classes are absolutely great with her," Ralston says. "She'll mimic and try to do and say what the other kids do. The other day, she told me, 'Whatever, Mom.' With this kid, I just have to laugh."
Melissa has not worked outside the home since Brianna was born. The Ralston's augment Greg's income from his job at Weyerhaeuser Co. with CAP-C Medicaid, which the state approved in 2004. They've applied for the more extensive CAP-MRDD Medicaid program, but have not yet been accepted. Social worker Kelly Daniels, who is paid through Medicaid, spends about 20 hours a week in the summer and 13 in the winter helping around the Ralston household.
Brianna's health initially caused what Melissa calls a "huge financial struggle" for the family. Brianna's motorized wheelchair, for instance, cost $13,000, though insurance covered most of that expense. Other pieces of Brianna's life, such as a walker and therapeutic standing frame, also carry monumental price tags.
Special surgical implants, though partially covered by insurance, can exact a financial toll, too. Doctors recently implanted a Baclofen pump – a disc filled with Baclofen, a muscle relaxant – in Brianna's abdominal wall, which sends the medication directly to her spinal column.
"Before the implant, she used to be pretty stiff," Melissa explains. "Now, her muscles are a lot calmer."
Hopes and dreams
The Ralstons can't bear to see Brianna excluded from mainstream society.
She watches, for example, with eager anticipation as her brother Chase performs gymnastics or plays soccer. Determined and independent, she wants to play, too, but doesn't fully understand the scope of her condition, Melissa says.
"She'll say, 'Mommy, I'll try. I'll try.' What do you say to that?" Melissa asks.
But despite her disability, Melissa goes out of her way to make sure her eldest daughter stays active. In addition to T-Ball, Brianna helps lead cheers for her Special Olympics team, "Cool Cats," periodically goes to the neighborhood pool and attends a summer camp for kids with disabilities.
"I like to meet new friends at the pool," Brianna says.
Melissa hopes that trend continues for a long time but hesitates to ask Melissa's doctor for a life expectancy prognosis. Some severely disabled cerebral palsy patients have died in their teens, she says.
"It's one of those questions you kinda want to know, but you don't want to ask the doctor," Melissa says. "I kind of hope she goes before I do, so she's taken care of."
Beyond that, Melissa's hopes for her daughter ring like any caring parent's. She wants Brianna to go to the prom. She wants her to have friends. She wants her to find a job she enjoys.
"We just want her to have a happy life," Melissa says. "When she accomplishes something, it's momentous. When you see the pride and joy on her face, it's a great feeling."
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