thedrifter
07-04-05, 03:18 PM
'During our children's lifetime'
July 04, 2005
DIANE MOUSKOURIE
DAILY NEWS STAFF
EMERALD ISLE - Randy Hebert sees everything, intently aware of his surroundings.
A respirator's slow rhythmic hum fills the room as his eyes move from side to side. His attention remains constant as the conversation ensues.
With the exception of facial expressions and eye movement, Hebert, 42, has no control of his body's muscles. It's through those face and eye movements that he communicates with his wife, Kim, his two children, Nicole, 11, and Kyle, 10, and his nurses, Sylvia Whittaker and Yvette Williams.
"His women do everything for him," Kim Hebert said laughing.
Randy Hebert, a retired Marine major once stationed at Cherry Point, started showing signs of his illness in 1994, soon after he returned home from the first Persian Gulf War. After more than a year of medical tests, doctors found he had contracted amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or ALS, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease.
The doctors told Kim Hebert it was a direct result of his experience in the Gulf, she said. The military, too, linked his illness to the war, she said.
"After a thorough investigation, they were able to pinpoint a particular area of exposure," Kim Hebert said. "The men who were over there were 90 percent more likely to get ALS than someone who was not over there."
ALS, a motor neuron disease, attacks the nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, damaging upper and lower motor neurons. When the motor neurons die, the ability of the brain to initiate and control muscle movement is lost, robbing its victims of mobility and even breathing.
Randy Hebert describes his condition as being in a dream with someone chasing you and being unable to move.
Eventually, the progressive loss of motor control leads to complete paralysis and death.
"ALS pretty much robs you of everything but your mind," Kim Hebert said.
Her husband's most outspoken advocate, Kim Hebert remains by his side constantly. The couple met in 1988 and dated for about four years before they were married. He was 30. She was 29.
"He was never getting married," she said with a quick laugh. "He dated me for four years, and he liked me a lot."
But then he went to Iraq.
"War changes a person, so I guess that's when he decided he couldn't live without me," she said.
Shortly after marrying, the couple had their two children. Soon after Kyle was born, Randy Hebert began to get sick.
"Randy was always the life of the party," Kim Hebert said, recalling the dating years. "He was the one who would go to a party and meet everyone there. By the time he left the party, he remembered the names of everyone."
Despite his condition, Randy Hebert remains upbeat, sharing jokes and devising numerous lists, Kim Hebert said laughing. He attributes his strong spirit to his faith in God, he said.
"Randy sits in that chair and comes up with all kinds of nurse honey-do lists, wife honey-do lists and more nurse honey-do lists," she said. "You could say he's spoiled - no pampered."
He was always active and very social, his wife said. And he has always loved the beach. Their home sits about two blocks from the Atlantic Ocean, and not many days go by that he does not go out there to sit in the sun and watch the surf, she said.
Last summer, the couple auctioned off his 1973 Corvette. The money bought materials to build a handicap access, so others in wheelchairs can go to the beach, too, Kim Hebert said.
Aptly, it was named "Randy's Way."
Mostly, Kim Hebert speaks for her husband, their eyes locked on each other. She has become so accustomed to it, that it seems as if she can read his mind.
She knows the meaning of each minute change in his expression. If she gets something - a date, a place - wrong, one look from his intense blue eyes lets her know.
"He can remember all kinds of names and dates," she said. "I can never remember anybody's name."Nurse Sylvia Whittaker stands directly next to Hebert's wheelchair facing him. In a rapid-fire progression, Whittaker repeats the alphabet.
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G," she says. "F, no G."
As she rolls through the letters, Randy Hebert focuses somewhere else until she hits the correct letter. Then he shifts his eyes to focus on her. This painstaking ritual continues until they stumble across the word he wants to say. They have become so adept at the process that sometimes the three women can guess the words before the spelling process is complete.
This system has become routine in the Hebert household. It is much easier than the computer system he has access to, Kim Hebert said.
When asked what has been most difficult, Randy Hebert's eyes gush tears. Spelling it out he said, "not being able to play with my children."
"I'm sorry I got so emotional," he said.
Despite their difficulties, they continue to take one day at a time. Their faith and beliefs keep them strong, Kim Hebert said.
"My husband has always had courage and faith," she said. "Through his strong faith, he has brought a lot of people to the Lord."
Being sick has also placed the Heberts on a different track than they once planned. They have been active in the Jim "Catfish" Hunter ALS Association. In 1998, Hunter, a former Major League Baseball player and North Carolina native, was diagnosed with ALS, the disease that would compromise his living condition and contribute to his death a year later at age 53.
Kim Hebert and the wife of another ALS victim, who died, organized a local ALS walk during the summer of 2003 and raised $125,000. The two women have scheduled another walk in September and hope to raise at least $150,000 this time, she said. Teams have already begun registering.
"We know we will probably not see a cure for ALS during our lifetime," Kim Hebert said. "But maybe it will happen during our children's lifetimes."
Ellie
July 04, 2005
DIANE MOUSKOURIE
DAILY NEWS STAFF
EMERALD ISLE - Randy Hebert sees everything, intently aware of his surroundings.
A respirator's slow rhythmic hum fills the room as his eyes move from side to side. His attention remains constant as the conversation ensues.
With the exception of facial expressions and eye movement, Hebert, 42, has no control of his body's muscles. It's through those face and eye movements that he communicates with his wife, Kim, his two children, Nicole, 11, and Kyle, 10, and his nurses, Sylvia Whittaker and Yvette Williams.
"His women do everything for him," Kim Hebert said laughing.
Randy Hebert, a retired Marine major once stationed at Cherry Point, started showing signs of his illness in 1994, soon after he returned home from the first Persian Gulf War. After more than a year of medical tests, doctors found he had contracted amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or ALS, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease.
The doctors told Kim Hebert it was a direct result of his experience in the Gulf, she said. The military, too, linked his illness to the war, she said.
"After a thorough investigation, they were able to pinpoint a particular area of exposure," Kim Hebert said. "The men who were over there were 90 percent more likely to get ALS than someone who was not over there."
ALS, a motor neuron disease, attacks the nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, damaging upper and lower motor neurons. When the motor neurons die, the ability of the brain to initiate and control muscle movement is lost, robbing its victims of mobility and even breathing.
Randy Hebert describes his condition as being in a dream with someone chasing you and being unable to move.
Eventually, the progressive loss of motor control leads to complete paralysis and death.
"ALS pretty much robs you of everything but your mind," Kim Hebert said.
Her husband's most outspoken advocate, Kim Hebert remains by his side constantly. The couple met in 1988 and dated for about four years before they were married. He was 30. She was 29.
"He was never getting married," she said with a quick laugh. "He dated me for four years, and he liked me a lot."
But then he went to Iraq.
"War changes a person, so I guess that's when he decided he couldn't live without me," she said.
Shortly after marrying, the couple had their two children. Soon after Kyle was born, Randy Hebert began to get sick.
"Randy was always the life of the party," Kim Hebert said, recalling the dating years. "He was the one who would go to a party and meet everyone there. By the time he left the party, he remembered the names of everyone."
Despite his condition, Randy Hebert remains upbeat, sharing jokes and devising numerous lists, Kim Hebert said laughing. He attributes his strong spirit to his faith in God, he said.
"Randy sits in that chair and comes up with all kinds of nurse honey-do lists, wife honey-do lists and more nurse honey-do lists," she said. "You could say he's spoiled - no pampered."
He was always active and very social, his wife said. And he has always loved the beach. Their home sits about two blocks from the Atlantic Ocean, and not many days go by that he does not go out there to sit in the sun and watch the surf, she said.
Last summer, the couple auctioned off his 1973 Corvette. The money bought materials to build a handicap access, so others in wheelchairs can go to the beach, too, Kim Hebert said.
Aptly, it was named "Randy's Way."
Mostly, Kim Hebert speaks for her husband, their eyes locked on each other. She has become so accustomed to it, that it seems as if she can read his mind.
She knows the meaning of each minute change in his expression. If she gets something - a date, a place - wrong, one look from his intense blue eyes lets her know.
"He can remember all kinds of names and dates," she said. "I can never remember anybody's name."Nurse Sylvia Whittaker stands directly next to Hebert's wheelchair facing him. In a rapid-fire progression, Whittaker repeats the alphabet.
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G," she says. "F, no G."
As she rolls through the letters, Randy Hebert focuses somewhere else until she hits the correct letter. Then he shifts his eyes to focus on her. This painstaking ritual continues until they stumble across the word he wants to say. They have become so adept at the process that sometimes the three women can guess the words before the spelling process is complete.
This system has become routine in the Hebert household. It is much easier than the computer system he has access to, Kim Hebert said.
When asked what has been most difficult, Randy Hebert's eyes gush tears. Spelling it out he said, "not being able to play with my children."
"I'm sorry I got so emotional," he said.
Despite their difficulties, they continue to take one day at a time. Their faith and beliefs keep them strong, Kim Hebert said.
"My husband has always had courage and faith," she said. "Through his strong faith, he has brought a lot of people to the Lord."
Being sick has also placed the Heberts on a different track than they once planned. They have been active in the Jim "Catfish" Hunter ALS Association. In 1998, Hunter, a former Major League Baseball player and North Carolina native, was diagnosed with ALS, the disease that would compromise his living condition and contribute to his death a year later at age 53.
Kim Hebert and the wife of another ALS victim, who died, organized a local ALS walk during the summer of 2003 and raised $125,000. The two women have scheduled another walk in September and hope to raise at least $150,000 this time, she said. Teams have already begun registering.
"We know we will probably not see a cure for ALS during our lifetime," Kim Hebert said. "But maybe it will happen during our children's lifetimes."
Ellie