My son, Camryn Damon, is six years old. He is a living, breathing medical miracle.

Camryn was born at five months, weighing just 14 ounces at birth. He was not expected to survive. He was born with a whole host of medical problems, some, of which, still affect his life today. He cannot walk (he has always used a wheelchair) or talk, he is ventilator-dependent, he has very low muscle tone, and he has brain damage that's left him with the mind of an infant. Camryn needs 24-hour medical care; he's been in and out of the hospital too many times to count.

Yet even with all his medical problems, my little boy brings me more joy than  you can imagine. He smiles/laughs often, he loves people, and he loves looking at his reflection in the mirror that hangs above his hospital bed. He loves playing with his toys, and he loves being with us, his family.

Whenever we take Camryn out in public, people are sad to see how sick he really is, but we are determined to give him a good life. We believe he deserves to have fun, have a chance to do things like take him to concerts, movies, or out to eat at restaurants, or to festivals, where he absolutely loves to people-watch.

Whenever Camryn ends up in the hospital, Alan, I, or our older children (Carissa-12, Calliope-13, and Carsyn-15) are there, praying over him, holding vigil at his bedside, wishing for the best, praying for a miracle that he makes it through yet another crisis. We are determined to be there for him, even in times of medical crisis.

If it were not for the constant care (or the compassion of concerned doctors and nurses), Camryn would have not lived to the age of six. He is a regular fixture in our lives--and in the lives of others. I only wish people who do not know our son can see just how happy of a child he really is and see the beauty in him, even in light of all his medical concerns.

                                        *THE END*