On August 27th, 2001, my family received one of our most precious blessings; a healthy baby boy. Thomas Joseph Cannon became the second edition to the Cannon Clan. I remember being with my Nana patiently awaiting the news of my baby brother coming home. As I anticipated his arrival, I remember promising to finish all of my peanut butter sandwich even though the last thing I could think about was eating. Once my parents finally got to my Nana’s to pick me up, I triumphantly sat next to my new baby brother in the back seat. From that moment on, I knew my brother and I would be best friends.
As the days and weeks went on, my love and infatuation with my new brother Tommy only grew. I begged my mom to participate in all of the daily tasks that had to do with my brother. I helped hold him, feed him, and even change his diapers. One time my mom even found me curled up in his crib with him despite the countless times she told me I could squish little Tommy. Despite many older siblings feeling jealousy when a new child is born, I could not have been happier. Watching him grow was so rewarding to me even though I was still young myself.
Tommy continued to grow and hit milestones. He learned to hold his own bottle, smile, say his first words but there was one milestone he did not seem to hit; being able to walk. As he reached the age where most babies begin their stumbling journey, he was not even crawling yet.
At three years old, Tommy was diagnosed with a neuromuscular disorder known as Spinal Muscular Atrophy. SMA left Tommy without the ability to produce a protein that is critical in controlling muscle movement. This diagnosis explained his inability to crawl or walk. But there was still hope. Tommy had been diagnosed with Type III, the most mild form of SMA. This meant that Tommy could possibly be able to walk for a little while. Fortunately, after a lot of prayer, encouragement, and physical therapy, Tommy began to walk. With lots of practice, his endurance only grew stronger. At the height of his strength, he could almost run.
Unfortunately, once Tommy turned twelve he began to decline. His walking became less frequent and everyday tasks became even harder than they were before. By thirteen he completely lost the ability to stand on his own and walk. His long time hopes of being able to play football was now entirely crushed. Our worst fear had come true; Tommy was now bound to his wheelchair.
My whole life, I have been a caretaker to Tommy. From being a helpful hand to my mom as a baby. To teaching him how to use his walker and even carrying him on my back when the walk was too long. Now, my responsibilities have become a lot more difficult. From lifting him in and out of his chair, helping him get dressed, getting him in and out of the car, and even more unimaginable things that you would hope to never have to help your younger sibling do. To watch him regress and struggle has taken a hit on my heart that nothing else could. A lot of the time I feel angry that I can walk and he can’t because I feel like my physical ability could have been so much more beneficial to my brother. I would do anything in this world to switch places with him, but I can’t.
Although life has gotten even more difficult for Tommy, his strength never ceases to amaze me. He always has a smile on his face. His laugh and positive attitude is contagious. It is impossible not to be inspired by him. Every time he falls, he gets right back up, literally. His disability has not kept him away from his love for the game of football. As the manager of his high school football team, he reminds his teammates every day how blessed they are to be able to play football and to have the ability to live their lives with no physical restraints. His frustration only turns into determination to overcome his disability and break all barriers; physical and mental.
Tommy has been the greatest gift in my life. Every time I want to give up, I picture his piercing blue eyes and bright smile. I picture his wheels for legs and how blessed I am to be able to walk. I hope to one day be financially stable enough to pay for Tommy to get the best treatment possible in hopes that he will be able to gain some of his strength back. I love him dearly and he his my hero.
“Remember boys, to play this game is a blessing.” - Tommy Cannon
