Federal Way High graduate triumphs over cerebral palsy with aid of blind grandmother and friends

Sitting in his wheelchair, sporting a blue graduation cap and gown, Nicholas Homblette smiled and reached out for his grandmother.

"Ahhhhh," Georgenne Harvey said Monday, wrapping the disabled 18-year-old in a massive hug. "Are you Grandma's big boy?"

With difficulty, Nicholas turned to his grandmother. His body rocked in his wheelchair with the effort. Then he lifted his arms to embrace her. For Harvey, that small gesture is her greatest reward for struggling to give her disabled grandson a normal life.Nicholas can't walk and he can't eat without a feeding tube after he was left with cerebral palsy from a brain injury when he was shaken and beaten as an infant by his young mother's boyfriend, who was never charged for lack of evidence. Nicholas is only now learning to talk.

Harvey, 61, lost her vision when she was a teenager, the result of a congenital eye problem.

Yet for 18 years she's been the sole support of her grandson, after she ignored doctors who told her he was too profoundly disabled to be cared for anywhere but in an institution. Having gone away to a boarding school herself once, Harvey wanted more for her grandson, whose mother was never a part of his life.

Last night, after 12 years in special-education classes, Nicholas donned a cap and gown and graduated from Federal Way High School with the Class of 2008, culminating five years of miracles for grandmother and grandson, as the best of human nature trumped the worst.

Along the way, Harvey learned that wanting a severely disabled child to have a normal life and being able to afford one were two different things.

Harder and harder

The older Nicholas got, the more he weighed and the more difficult it was to lift him — not only in and out of bed but in and out of vans to take him places. While Harvey used sound-based equipment to compensate for her lack of sight to give him medicine, she could do nothing about lifting him into vans and getting volunteers to drive him to school plays, church and other activities.

But stories five years ago in The Seattle Times about Nicholas and Harvey — who at the time went by her married name, Georgenne Robbins — transformed their lives.

Readers from Seattle to Florida contributed $70,000 to buy Harvey a van with a wheelchair lift, add a lift system to their blue-gray rambler in Federal Way — and establish a trust fund.

Harvey's neighbor and friend Caroline Miller volunteered to drive and help with other tasks. Many others came into their lives as well.

"I couldn't believe it!" Harvey said the other day. "It still doesn't seem possible."

Just as the fairy tale was in full swing, Social Security officials stepped in, saying Nicholas and Harvey could not receive the money while also receiving Social Security benefits. Reconfiguring the trust fund solved the problem.

Then Harvey's beloved van was totaled and the insurance company refused to compensate her for the new lift or provide enough money to replace the van.

"I thought, 'What am I going to do?' " she said.

A friend saw an ad for a green 1998 van with wheelchair lift and even a TV inside for Nicholas to watch — all for $17,000. And once again, their transportation problem was solved.

However, when the new van needed repairs, Harvey gave $500 to a friend of a relative who said he could fix it, but the man disappeared with the money.

Then Harvey stepped from the van and fell, tearing ligaments in her knee. She worried about who would care for her and her grandson. Miller came to the rescue.

Over the years, Nicholas grew, but due to scoliosis and long hours sitting in a wheelchair he became increasingly pained and bent to the side in the shape of a C. Harvey suspected the pain affected all aspects of her grandson's development but didn't know what — if anything — could be done to help.

Children's Hospital & Regional Medical Center in Seattle donated spinal surgery that made it possible for Nicholas to sit up straight.

For Harvey, the dark side of human nature is counterbalanced by the saints — people like Miller and Dan Parnel.

Miller, a former teacher, said she asked God to give her a reason to get up in the morning after retirement. That's when she found herself led to Harvey. In the past five years her role has increased as Harvey's health declined both from diabetes and knee surgery. Now Miller changes Nicholas' diapers, feeds, bathes, dresses and drives him.

Five years ago, Parnel read about Harvey and Nicholas and not only decided to donate money, but to get involved as well. He takes Nicholas on monthly outings: trout fishing, the Museum of Flight, baseball games or walks along the Redondo Pier or to Celebration Park.

"We do guy stuff," Parnel said. "I'm a Christian and I believe it's my responsibility to give back to those less fortunate."

Lives he has touched

Nicholas' room is decorated with graduation photos, a graduation announcement in blue and white, and a high-school annual filled with inscriptions from friends and teachers:

"Nick, I will miss you, Kristi."

"You are cool, Nancy."

"I will miss driving you to school ... "

Nicholas' teacher, Carol Hamlin, may miss him most of all.

He "always has a wonderful smile. It's like I can see eternity by looking into his eyes," she said.

"I think all of us have a job to fulfill," Hamlin said. For Nicholas and students like him, "their job is to teach us patience and compassion, and it's our job to learn from them. That's why I'm in the field I'm in."

Next year, Nicholas will begin the school district's Transitional Employment Program. For three years he will learn skills that will help him hold a job.

"I have every reason to believe [Nicholas] will be among the employed at the end of three years," Hamlin said.

When Harvey thinks of the passing years and her grandson's future, she wraps it in prayer. As he received his diploma Monday night, another prayer was answered.

Her reward, however, is in the progress he's made in his ability to communicate, especially since his surgery at Children's Hospital about a year ago. He's now more alert, and makes clear attempts at speech.

"Grandma," he said Monday. "Grandma!"

He reached out to the most important person in his life, frail arms pointing toward her. Harvey hugged him.

"There is nothing like a Nicky hug," she said.

Nancy Bartley: 206-464-8522 or nbartley@seattletimes.com