Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, August 26, 1993 TAG: 9308260431
SECTION: NEIGHBORS PAGE: E-10 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETSY BIESENBACH STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Despite cerebral palsy so severe he is unable to speak or to control any part of his body but his head, David managed to be in the middle of things, interacting with his classmates and his teacher.
David is small for his age, but he's bigger than he was five years ago. He still has a wide, happy smile that he doesn't mind showing. His arms and legs are thin, but tanned from hours spent in the family's wading pool.
His eyes are blue and expressive, but his face has lost its babyish look. Without a smile, it sometimes looks like the face of someone much older.
He lives with his parents, Steve, who works at Ingersoll-Rand, and Carolyn, the clerk of Salem's General District and Juvenile and Domestic Relations courts. He also has a sister, Katie, 4. They live in Southwest Roanoke County.
Since kindergarten, David has been mainstreamed into regular classes as much as possible. For five years, he has taken a two-hour ride across the county to Mountain View Elementary; but in September, he will be a fifth-grader at his home school, Back Creek Elementary.
In many ways, David is like any other kid. Aside from his neurological problems and their side effects, he is healthy. He likes to play in the pool, go on picnics, shop for toys. He wants to go fishing. His biggest wish is to take a ride in an airplane.
David does well in school, making B's and C's. Last year, he did 10 pull-ups in gym class.
David is popular with his friends, who even invite him to skating parties although he can't skate.
David is very independent, his mother said, especially since he got the motorized wheelchair he controls with his head. Sometimes, when they're shopping, he goes off on his own. He took a solo tour of his new school. He has learned how to open the backyard fence, so when he gets tired of hanging around the house, he rolls himself next door to his grandfather's and parks on the wheelchair ramp there until someone notices him and lets him in.
Like most kids, he is shy at first about being interviewed, but by the time it's almost over, he's warmed up and clowning around.
"Pucker up, heart-throb!" he says, to his mother's embarrassment.
Since preschool, David has used a device called a "light talker" to communicate. By pointing a flashlight attached to his cap at blinking lights on a board, David can make the device produce up to 128 preprogrammed phrases, such as: "My name is David Robbins."
The device is hard to use and harder to program, but without it, David would be unable to communicate with other human beings except by eye contact.
Although David can make his basic needs known with the light talker, he can't say what he is thinking. It's frustrating for him, and he bangs his hands against the light talker and stamps his feet against his chair when it is too slow or the right phrase isn't programmed into it. The 6-year-old light talker has been repaired many times.
This is where David's story turns into a plea heard over and over in these days of high insurance costs. David needs new equipment that his father's insurance company won't cover. And he needs donations from strangers to get it.
The Robbinses want to replace the light talker with a newer, more sophisticated device called the "Liberator." Since David has never been able to speak, Steve said, the equipment is considered to be nonrehabilitative, and is not covered.
Are the Robbins angry about this policy?
"Don't get me started!" Carolyn laughed. She was quickly interrupted by David, who, although he reads at a first-grade level because of perceptual problems, knows an awful lot about doctors, hospitals and insurance companies.
"Yes! Yes!," David said with his light talker.
The Liberator is easier to operate and program than the light talker, and with it, David will be able to perform word-processing tasks that will help him express himself better. He can participate in his classes more independently by printing out homework and answers to test questions from the Liberator.
The Robbinses are planning to rent one at a cost of $400 per month, which would be applied to the purchase price. But if they are unable to buy it within four months, they will forfeit the money they have spent.
The Liberator costs $8,000. The Robbins' will get $1,500 for turning in the old light talker, and they were given $2,000 from the Chance Crawford Softball Tournament. The Scottish Rite Temple donated $500, Carolyn's co-workers pitched in $190, and Steve's company is selling 1,000 tickets for a raffle. Despite this help, they are far short of the purchase price.
"I think he has a real purpose," Carolyn Robbins said. "Every day, we get closer to what he's going to do. I expect great things for him."
Contibutions sent may be sent to the Robbins family at 6519 Old Mill Road, Roanoke, Va. 24018.
by CNB