Several years ago we donated Ammon’s first gait trainer to his former preschool class. A gait trainer is a type of medical equipment that supports a child in a standing position and allows them to focus on walking, without the fear of falling. A gait trainer and similar equipment can easily cost thousands of dollars, and Ammon’s was no different. Reality is that specialized equipment, almost unique and one-of-a-kind, tends to be exceptionally expensive. Ammon’s wheelchair alone costs well in excess the amount we paid for our SUV, and it doesn’t even come with radio, AC, or heated seats.
In our neighborhood is a family with a beautiful little girl in need of a gait trainer or similar physical development equipment. This past week, we thought we would inquire after Ammon’s old gait trainer and see if we could possibly get it back to give to this family. Fortunately, Ammon’s old preschool class is in the same school as his current elementary class, with the classrooms right across the hall from each other.
Upon walking in Ammon’s current elementary class this week, and with the gait trainer on her mind, Summer thought she recognized it sitting next to the wall with some of the other specialized and unique equipment. It looked older, it looked used. Then Summer saw across one of the bars Ammon’s name that she had painted on there long before. The letters were worn, faded, and scratched after the ongoing years of use, but there was no mistaking Ammon’s name. This was his old walking friend.
A strong mix of emotions poured over Summer, similar to what I felt when she told me about seeing the gait trainer. Before the cancer treatments and seizures put on hold so many of Ammon’s physical abilities, there are cherished memories of Ammon exerting all his strength simply to walk on the sidewalk, two houses down and two houses back home. These almost daily walks were physically exhausting for Ammon. He would lean forward as much as the gait trainer allowed, and then with virtually every muscle in his little body (arms flexed, neck contracting, stomach tight, and legs pumping), Ammon would will his way forward, and he would walk.
Why put our son through so much struggle, effort, and apparent discomfort? Why put any child through this? Here’s why.
As Ammon would take each hard fought step, as he would lean forward as far as he could, as he literally walked down the sidewalk on the tips of toes, his face shone bright. With mouth wide open and eyes alert, he would smile with each accomplished step and each word of encouragement. His radiant happiness and satisfaction were apparent as his occasional joyful shout-outs conveyed, “Look Mom, look! I can do it! I can do it!” This is why Ammon would frequently get so excited when it was time to be with his friend the gait trainer. This is why Ammon’s name was proudly painted across one of the bars. In a day now past (and with hope to return again), Ammon’s gait trainer was not just another piece of extremely expensive equipment, it was part of Ammon, a part that allowed him, if only briefly, to be just like every other kid, to be free.
As Summer looked at Ammon’s old walking friend, one of the classroom aide’s had wheeled a young new class member over and started the process of moving and securing him into the gait trainer. “That’s Ammon’s gait trainer,” Summer briefly thought, “we need it back, we need it for a friend in our neighborhood.” As quickly as the thought came, it left, as Summer watched the little boy, barely 5 years old, finish getting buckled in and ready to go. This small boy had recently graduated from the pre-school class across the hall, and now was a proud kindergartner with all the other elementary age children in Ammon’s class. It appeared that Ammon’s gait trainer had also graduated, and followed this young boy on new learning adventures. Adventures that neither could experience without the other; freedom that could only be discovered together. Ammon’s gift was right where it was always meant to be. With awe, Summer watched as this sweet little boy with focused effort leaned forward as far as the gait trainer would allow, and with all his strength and great exertion, he began to walk. And his face shone bright.
For a minute or two Summer watched the young boy walk through the classroom, with joy spread all across his face. Ammon’s painted name on the bar of the gait trainer likely received a few more scratches that day. The letters spelling Ammon’s name might not be immediately discernible for those not knowing the history of this particular gait trainer. But for us, it has become a blessing to realize that Ammon’s old walking friend was now helping this little boy experience the joy of a simple walk. Considering how much this gait trainer had become a part of Ammon’s life and even an extension of Ammon himself, in many regards it was rewarding to witness Ammon, with the strong arms and sure support of a gait trainer, be the one helping so many others learn to walk.
