Until one night in October, the Grand Prairie house was filled with everything the single parent of three worked for over the last 20 years: appliances, clothes, furniture, commissioned artwork. Two months later it sits empty, nearly everything sold to pay off medical bills while Nevels waits in the Ronald McDonald House in Houston for a liver and a lung that could save her teenage son's life.
Tyler Nelson, 16, needs the organs soon or Nevels fears she will watch helplessly as her son dies from complications of cystic fibrosis.
Tyler keeps the pager in his pocket. It will alert him if doctors find a matching donor. He'll have to be at the hospital within the hour, which is why they're so far from home.
"When you're in a situation like this, someone has to die for someone else to live," said Nevels, a 40-year-old personal finance and small business consultant.
The agonizing wait plays emotional warfare in Nevels' mind. One moment she thinks about whether her life could've been different if she had a healthy child. Then she looks at Tyler's wide, braces-filled smile and melts.
Tyler, who wants to be a pilot, doesn't complain about his illness. Traci Randermann, one of his teachers at South Grand Prairie High School, said you'd never know he was sick because he masks his suffering with laughter and good deeds.
"We've been around him for two years, and I've never heard him say, 'I'm having a bad day,' " she said.
Tyler's father, Jaroby Nelson, once told Tyler that it's OK to show his emotions. It's OK to get mad once in a while.
"Daddy," the boy answered, "I understand, but there are a lot of people doing worse than I am. Homeless people, people losing their houses, people who don't know where their next meal is coming from."
That same cheerfulness in spite of his health inspired the teenager several years ago to make 60 Thanksgiving dinners, package them up and deliver them to Dallas' homeless.
For most of his 16 years, Tyler was just an ordinary boy. He played football and basketball and avoided the complications of cystic fibrosis – a genetic disease that ravages the lungs and digestive system. He was the smallest player on his teams, but the fastest runner.
His disease didn't start hampering his athletic ability until seventh grade, when coughing fits interrupted the back-and-forth trips on the basketball court.
Then came frequent visits to Cook Children's Medical Center in Fort Worth, where doctors examined his body. In October, the internal bleeding caused by a cirrhotic liver became too much, and they sent Tyler to Texas Children's Hospital in Houston.
Together Tyler and his mother wait out the days. In the meantime, they're working to make others aware of the need for donors. They established a website (www.giftstotyler.org) that provides links for others to sign up and become donors.
"There are a lot of kids at the Ronald McDonald House and the hospital that need transplants," Tyler said. "In registering, you help kids have a second life."
The two aren't alone in the fight. Nevels' 2-year-old daughter, Alex McFarland, is also in Houston. Tyler's 17-year-old brother, Jeremy Nelson, moved from Grand Prairie to Houston to finish the last semester of his senior year in high school. And Tyler's father makes weekend visits from Grand Prairie.
NFL fullback Tony Richardson, who met Tyler through the Make-A-Wish Foundation, keeps in contact on a daily basis.
Nevels, who also teaches a grant-writing class at Cedar Valley Community College, recently learned that all nine of her students found donors who would support cystic fibrosis or organ transplant patients as a tribute to Tyler and his mother.
At some point, Nevels will return to her career and the house she emptied to be with her son.
"I couldn't care less about the stuff I have in my house. Sell it. Get rid of it," Nevels said. "All we need are organs."
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