The message is ready to be sent with the following file or link attachments: Shortcut to: http://www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/print/CTVNews/1111607128220_107016 328/?hub=WFive&subhub=PrintStory Help and Hope W-FIVE Staff It's minutes before show time, and 21-year-old Adrian Anantawan's adept fingers prance across the strings of his violin. He is warming up for a feature performance at a high-priced AIDS benefit in Toronto. Adrian's success as a violinist is remarkable, but what he has overcome to get where he is, is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Adrian was born without a right hand. "I know that, definitely, what I'm doing - at this level at least - has never been done before," he says. Adrian is a trailblazer who owes much of his success to the Bloorview MacMillan Children's Centre in Toronto - Bloorview for short. A pediatric rehabilitation centre unlike any other in Canada, it's a place where teachers, doctors, therapists and researchers work together to enable children with disabilities. Adrian started coming to Bloorview when he was nine months old. Nine years later, Bloorview's prosthetics team figured out how to build a custom prosthesis that would let him grip a violin bow. He calls it his "spatula." It's a flat, finely machined piece of metal that fits into the crook of his bow. For Bloorview in-house engineer, Bill Johnson, making it work perfectly, to fulfill Adrian's individual needs, is essential. "A kid comes in here and his life is changed when he leaves here. In Adrian's case (my job is) perfecting his bowing, so he can do whatever anybody else can do - or not what anybody else can do - what other concert violinists can do. Absolutely, I get fulfillment with a job well done, but I change people's lives in what I do." A School Like No Other From its creation in 1899 as The Home For Incurable Children, Bloorview has evolved into a facility that serves 6,500 disabled children a year. It houses a staggering array of specialists and services, offering everything from therapeutic swimming lessons to computerized communication devices to a medical clinic. It even has its own school. Eighty kids, aged four to seven, get up each morning and take the bus to Bloorview. "This is a school first and then it's a special school second-in the same way that our kids are children first and students first and then they're students with special needs second," says Principal Linda LaRocque. It's a public school, but space is limited to those who can benefit most from Bloorview's intense and focused care. "Many of our children have cerebral palsy, some have spina bifida, some are here because they have had a post-birth trauma, they've had a stroke (or) they've suffered a brain injury that's affected their mobility," explains LaRocque. With students with an array of disabilities, desires and dreams, the common goal is to help each child reach beyond his or her physical limitations. This includes preparing students to draw on their abilities, so they can graduate from Bloorview and thrive. "There are many ways to prepare for inclusion, and this is one of them," says LaRocque. "And that is to say that a segregated, self-contained program as a preparatory school . is really important for some kids if they're going to be truly included in a community school down the road - and in life down the road." Steps toward success Four-year-old Harrison Barberian, or Harry, is in his first year at Bloorview. He was born 10 weeks premature, weighing only 1,600 grams. It was not until a year later that his mother learned Harry's diagnosis from their doctor. "He said to us, 'Of course you realize your son has cerebral palsy.' Well, we hadn't realized that at all," recalls Harry's mom, Linda Rodeck. "He had been a premature baby and we were told that he was developmentally delayed due to his prematurity. So, it was like a cannon ball being shot at us." She and Harry's dad, Aaron Barberian, had to reevaluate their lives then and there. They were told it was highly unlikely Harry would walk. They faced a difficult time; that is, until they found Bloorview. "The sense of relief you get when you walk through those main doors at Bloorview is really almost palpable as a parent. You get a sense of finally belonging somewhere," says Rodeck. Because of the cerebral palsy, Harry relies on a wheelchair or walker to get around. He has trouble with his flexibility and balance, even when sitting. This is where Bloorview's Dr. Darcy Fehlings comes in. Fehlings is an expert in the use of pediatric Botox treatments. She treats Harry every six months or so with injections. The Botox works by relaxing the muscles in his legs and, paired with stretching, allows Harry better mobility and strength. Dr. Fehlings administers Harry's treatment at The Hospital for Sick Children, an affiliate of Bloorview. It's a painful procedure, but one week after his 12 to 20 injections, Harry's therapists see marked improvement in his gait. In fact, he's almost ready to walk with canes. "If I look back at those original dark days, as we called them, absolutely he's superceded my wildest imagination of what he could achieve," says Harry's mom. "It's entirely due to his time here. I've no doubt about that." One Swallow at a Time Harry's family is not the only one that relies on Bloorview to help fulfill dreams. Six-year-old student Deane Daprato was also born premature and later diagnosed with cerebral palsy, but he and his family have their own unique set of trials and goals. Deane is non-verbal, which means he communicates with various tools, including a computer, gestures and a complex system of symbols, customized by Bloorview staff. Deane's mom, Ijeoma Ross, lists the array of people at Bloorview who support her son directly: "His teacher, the principal of the school, his physiotherapist, his occupational therapist, speech therapist, somebody from the writing and communication aids department . and the school psychologist." One of the toughest things Ijeoma and her husband, Mark Daprato, first learned about Deane's condition was that mealtime could potentially be dangerous. "If something goes down the wrong way, we start to cough and choke and it's quite dramatic. But for a lot of kids who have what they call an uncoordinated swallow, they can take liquids down into their lungs without making a sound," explains Ross. Swallowing food or drink into the lungs is called aspirating, which if undetected or left unchecked, can lead to infections, pneumonia, and in the worst cases, even death. Thankfully, Bloorview is home to one brilliant mind who can translate this terrifying daily reality into a scientific solution. The Resident Innovator The man who put Deane's problem under the microscope is Tom Chau, an award-winning specialist in pediatric rehabilitation engineering. Chau and his team of graduate students from the University of Toronto developed a prototype sensor that detects slight differences in vibrations caused by a child's swallow. "The vibrations get picked up and get sent to (a computerized box). And this box, first of all, amplifies the signal so. we can analyze it. And then the box has a micro controller - so it's like a computer inside that tears apart the signal and then decides what it's found, whether it's found a swallow or an aspiration." The device, dubbed the aspirometer, translates this information to a parent or caregiver. A green light means a good swallow and a red light means there's a problem. "It's nice to know just to see the green light going on that he's doing fine," says Deane's mom. Chau left a high-paying engineering job at IBM five years ago, to come to Bloorview. "To me, this is personally more meaningful, in the sense that I get to witness. the impact our work has. on the lives of kids and their families," says Chau. He recently received a prestigious Canada Research Chair, awarded only to the country's top scientific minds. But Chau has no interest in resting on his laurels. He and his team of applied science graduate students have more inventions to perfect. And as an incubator for new ideas in pediatric rehabilitation engineering, the lab also benefits from being under the same roof as the Bloorview students. As part of a research trial, students from Paul Alcamo's kindergarten class have come down to try their hand at a new device under development that students call the "magic pen." It has sensors in it that measure how tightly a child is holding the pen, while the computer screen he or she writes on measures how much pressure is being exerted. The data generated by this device will help teachers and therapists evaluate a child's writing skills and assess his or her physical ability to control a pen or pencil. This will help decide the method of communicating that might suit that child best. If writing is not an option, staff will channel the child's efforts into learning other skills, such as communicating using a computer. Chau has also developed a complex prosthesis that "listens" to the sounds muscles make when a child moves his or her arm, and sends messages to the prosthetic hand to respond accordingly. He hopes that, someday, this will allow a whole host of disabled children to function better in their surroundings. "I think it opens up a lot of doors," he says. Building Towards the Future One of Chau's inventions that is already in wider use is a device that opens doors to the world of music. With only a laptop, a Web camera and a big-screen television, Chau's creation can make a musician out of just about anyone. The "virtual musical instrument" allows seven-year-old Sydney Mills-Cooper to take music lessons every week, even though she has spinal muscular atrophy. The disease leaves her muscles too weak to play most conventional instruments, but she has no shortage of talent with the VMI. From a seated position in her wheelchair, Sydney faces a large television screen with a Web cam on top, pointed at her. What she sees on the screen is herself, with large coloured dots superimposed on the space around her. Each dot represents a different musical note, so when Sydney raises her arm to pass through a virtual dot, the computer plays the appropriate note. The VMI allows her to express herself creatively. Sydney's dad, Jonathan Cooper, says moving her arms to create the music has also greatly improved her arm strength and mobility. "What we're proving is that every child has a right to musical achievement," says Sydney's music teacher, Andrea Lamont. Providing access to achievement and finding creative ways to enable success in children with physical limitations is a fundamental goal that Chau and Bloorview share. "I believe, personally, that with modern-day technology, with the mix of experts like what we have at Bloorview MacMillan, there is no condition that we cannot improve in terms of quality of life," says Chau. He says that seeing children benefit from the inventions he and his team have created is his greatest reward. "It's extremely gratifying, extremely fulfilling - and there's nothing that can compare to that." Note: To protect against computer viruses, e-mail programs may prevent sending or receiving certain types of file attachments. Check your e-mail security settings to determine how attachments are handled. begin 666 1111607128220_107016328.url M6TEN=&5R;F5T4VAO<G1C=71=#0I54DP]:'1T<#HO+W=W=RYC='8N8V$O<V5R M=FQE="]!<G1I8VQE3F5W<R]P<FEN="]#5%9.97=S+S$Q,3$V,#<Q,C@R,C!? M,3 W,#$V,S(X+S]H=6(]5T9I=F4F<W5B:'5B/5!R:6YT4W1O<GD-"DUO9&EF 8:65D/3<P-38Y-#@S-T(W04,U,#$Y. T* ` end