One boy’s gift

At his first public speaking event, Timothy Schwab once said, “I want to thank my mom and dad for keeping me alive.” He was only 5 years old at the time.

Timothy was born with cystic fibrosis, a genetic disorder that can critically affect the lungs, pancreas, liver and intestine. “We didn’t know how to react,” says Tanya Schwab, Timothy’s mother, of his illness. Both Tanya and her husband, Thomas, had never heard of the disease before. But after some research they soon found out that no one case of cystic fibrosis is alike, that the symptoms vary, and even more alarming – there is no cure.

“We answered his questions as he [Timothy] asked,” Thomas says. “We spoke at a level he could understand, and we never told lies,” he says. When Timothy was in kindergarten, the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation went to his school and talked to the kids about the disease. Timothy soaked up all the information given to him and from that moment on he decided that he too wanted to spread awareness.

“Kids know kids better than adults,” Timothy says. As the newly appointed youth council president for Little Smiles – a non-profit organization that helps children with disabilities – Timothy works with other children to continually spread the word through either events or community service. Timothy’s father says his son (who is now in the eighth grade at Tradewinds Middle School) had some summer reading assignments. Instead of just reading them, Timothy created a “Reading with Timothy” hour, where he would read these stories, with animation and character voices, to the kids at St. Mary’s pediatric ward. He wanted everyone to enjoy the stories, not just him. He was even this year’s honorary chairman for Little Smiles’ annual event Stars Ball – a black-tie gala event reminiscent of the

Academy Awards, where the children are the stars.

With emerald-green eyes and eyelashes women would kill for, the 13-year-old teenager is riddled with an exuberant energy. He loves to dance, play the drums, sing and travel to his family’s gingerbread-style cottage in Maine, where he eats some of his favorite food – lobster.

All in all, he’s a regular teenager. Sure, he has a feeding tube surgically implanted to help him absorb calories, and sure, he has to go in to St. Mary’s Medical Center for a “tune-up,” where he gets pumped with antibiotics and receives aggressive respiratory therapy, but he’s like any other kid who has a laundry list of interests.

And someday he hopes to be a doctor. He’s enrolled in advanced classes, and his favorite subjects are math and science, so there’s no doubt he’s on the right track.

But even though he’s a teenager, he has a worldly outlook on life that for most could only be obtained with time. “Never give up, live life to its fullest and have no regrets,” he says.

Genesis Assistance Dogs

About seven years ago – right before Christmas – Jeffrey Eagle went out for his morning run on Flagler Drive in West Palm Beach. He had passed the Southern Boulevard Bridge when suddenly another runner, who was only but a few seconds behind him, was hit by a car.

Two years later, while out grocery shopping, Eagle and his wife, Charlie, spotted a woman in the produce section with a service dog lying beside her. Intrigued, Charlie struck up a conversation with the woman. She was with an organization that trained dogs for people with disabilities. She further explained that her husband, a quadriplegic, had his own service dog to assist him throughout the day. Jeff inquired further about her husband’s condition to which she proceeded to tell him the details of an ill-fated morning: Her husband went out for a run on the Southern Boulevard Bridge and was hit by a car. It was then Jeff realized the man she spoke of was the very same person he had encountered years ago.

“We are both believers that there are no coincidences,” Jeff says of him and his wife. According to the couple, it was more than serendipity; it was destiny. And so without a shred of hesitance, the two began a new philanthropic journey that involved training service dogs.

“It was very difficult at first. You know going in that there is no possibility of keeping the dogs,” says Charlie of her inevitable attachment toward the puppies. “But when you see the look on a child’s face when they meet the dog for the first time, it’s worth it,” she says.

In May 2012, the Eagles helped create Genesis Assistance Dogs, Inc. – a non-profit charity focused on training dogs to assist people with disabilities, such as autism, post-traumatic disorder and diabetes.

The organization has an advisory board comprised of physical therapists, medical professionals, experts on autism, and members of the Veterans Administration – all who advise how to make the right match between a service dog and its new owner.

Genesis trains Labradors, golden retrievers and rescue dogs, and each dog is trained for a specific disability or illness.

By properly training quality dogs, matching them accordingly and maintaining an extensive follow-up with its clients; Genesis is well on its way to transforming the lives of many for the better. “It’s a lot of work, but when you’re dealing with changing someone’s life you want to make it right,” Jeff says.

Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation

In 2004 Ryan Licht Sang stopped taking his prescribed mood-stabilizing medication. Like many people before him who suffered from bipolar disorder, he too felt his illness could be controlled. But after a manic episode ensued, he self-medicated, and on Aug. 24 he died in his sleep. He was only 24 years old.

Sang had displayed early onset symptoms when he was around 5 years old, but in 1985 a child could not yet be diagnosed bipolar. So for his mother, Joyce, it was quite challenging.

“I was told I was being an overprotective mother,” she says. According to Joyce and her husband,

Dusty, Ryan was charismatic, intelligent and could see the world in a beautiful way that many could not. Unfortunately, it came with a price. For every incredible high he would experience, there was a soul-crushing low awaiting him.

According to Dusty, people with bipolar disorder process data and information differently, thus creating different behaviors, moods and reactions. “It’s a medical illness of the brain; not a mental illness,” he says.

At the cemetery – after Ryan’s passing – Joyce, who had more than 30 years of non-profit experience under her belt, turned to Dusty and instinctually said, “We have to start a foundation.” So they created the Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation and spent the next two years traveling the country assembling the best medical committee they could find.

The foundation focuses on two initiatives. The first is to fund research in what they call “The Quest for a Test.” According to the Sangs, there is no empirical research that determines whether or not an individual has the disorder. The only symptoms are the behavior and often times it can take up until 10 years to diagnose. “Can you imagine having cancer or diabetes for 10 years without knowing it?” Dusty says.

The second initiative is to foster awareness and understanding to ultimately eliminate the terrible stigma associated with bipolar disorder. “If you apply for a job and tell them you have bipolar disorder or cancer, which do you think will be viewed differently?” Joyce asks.

The foundation also underwrites an education and training program developed by Johns Hopkins Medicine. It’s designed to train faculty members, parents and students to recognize the behavioral symptoms associated with bipolar disorder and to further understand it. The program is called Adolescent Depression Awareness Program and is present in high schools both in public and private.

Having dealt with the disorder firsthand, Joyce offers some parental advice for those with bipolar children. “Tell them how much you love them. And be sure to talk to the child you have, not to the child you want.”