Ryan’s Mıracle

FOUR YEARS AGO, MY son, Ryan White, died. Ryan, a hemophiliac, contracted a fatal illness from a type of blood product critical to people with hemophilia. But at the time no one realized that a new and deadly virus was then lurking in the nation’s blood supply.

Ryan had just turned 13 when he was diagnosed in December 1984. I was a single mother. We lived in Kokomo, Indiana. Ryan had been born there, as had his younger sister, Andrea. So had I and my ex-husband and my parents. My mom’s big worry when I was growing up was that I might marry someone who would take me away from Kokomo. You weren’t ever supposed to leave Kokomo. Kokomo took care of you. It was home. Then Ryan was diagnosed with AIDS.

When Ryan first became sick, we took him to the James Whitcomb Riley Hospital for Children in Indianapolis, where they discovered that Ryan had a rare form of pneumonia that usually indicates AIDS. But it was a few days before his physician, Dr. Martin Kleiman, knew for sure. I didn’t want to tell Ryan until after Christmas. Ryan loved Christmas, and Dr. Kleiman couldn’t