Mother's day and night

Warwick — Karen Lundy is turning 30 next month. Yes, it’s a milestone birthday, but Karen doesn’t have the usual angst that many her age do. She is more interested in her books and her music. She loves listening to Frank Sinatra and James Taylor. She loves karaoke and Seinfeld reruns and trips into the city to galleries and museums. The big deal about Karen’s birthday is that no one ever thought she would see her fifth birthday, never mind her 30th. Karen was born on June 30, 1977, three months premature. Weighing in at just two pounds, three ounces, her health problems steadily increased. “At first it seemed just a matter of gaining weight and then she’d come home,” said her mom, Betty Lundy. But Karen spent nearly the first five months of her life at the new neonatal unit of New York Hospital in New York City. Lots of problems showed up, according to Betty, including holes in her bones, meningitis and infections. She developed hydrocephalus, a condition where spinal fluid collects in the brain. On top of all that, a nurse dropped Karen five feet onto a hard tile floor. One day, the doctors told Betty and her husband, Bob, that Karen would be profoundly disabled, both mentally and physically. “That day I just wandered around the Strand Bookstore,” recalled Betty. “When she was discharged the day before Thanksgiving, they told us to just go home and love her because she wouldn’t live to be five.” Karen certainly proved them wrong on that. A friend and doctor Betty and Bob Lundy came to Warwick by way of Memphis, Tenn., in January 1977. Betty, a singer, and Bob, an artist and golfer, wanted to be closer to New York City and all that it had to offer artists like themselves. They found Warwick and settled in quickly. Betty was newly pregnant after having three miscarriages. When she went into labor in June, she feared the baby was coming too soon. She went to the hospital and instead of slowing down the labor, she was given a drug to speed it up. A year after Karen was born, the Lundys heard of a pediatric neurosurgeon, Eugene Spitz, at Philadelphia’s Children’s Hospital, who had pioneered a method of implanting a shunt to drain the spinal fluid from the brain. A relationship was born. The Lundys made the trip to Philadelphia every three months for 25 years until Spitz retired. “Karen is functioning as much as she is because of Dr. Spitz,” said Betty. “He is like family to us.” In her first year of life, Karen had surgery twice to implant the shunt. After Spitz did it, the shunt lasted for 27 years. Karen has had countless infections and bleeding. She almost died in 1998 on the operating table. But you would never know it. Tiny, but not frail, Karen is confined to a wheelchair. She can communicate her needs but trips over her words if she uses too many. She is very outgoing, friendly, and happy. “She never complains, never asks for anything,” said Betty. “She has good receptive skills - she understands more than she can communicate.” But she certainly does communicate. Karen has a 1,000-watt smile and her eyes sparkle with an innocence usually long gone by 30. She loves her dad and loves when he plays guitar and Betty sings. “She is pure spirit,” said Betty. “Some people are incredulous at the burden of having a child with such a handicap, but we don’t see it like that. She has shown me just how strong I can be.” Special children have special parents. ‘Living with angels’ Betty recalled a vacation the family took in 1989, a six-week cross-country jaunt. “It was a magical time for all of us,” said Betty. “But we’ve never been able to do it again.” Karen can’t walk or stand. She can’t cook or dress herself. She needs her parents to lift her 80-pound body from her bed each morning and from her wheelchair each night. With no family here in New York, the Lundys haven’t had a single dinner alone together, much less a weekend away, in 30 years. Sure they could probably have more of a support system if they moved back to Memphis, but they are so settled here now. And all of Karen’s specialists are here on the East Coast. Despite her homesickness for the South and her dislike of New York winters, Betty doesn’t see her family leaving Warwick. “Our biggest concern is who is going to take care of Karen when we’re gone,” said Betty, a concern shared by many parents of disabled children. But right now they have a milestone to celebrate with their beautiful, joyful daughter. “I run into people in ShopRite,” said Betty, “people we knew when we first came here. They’ll ask how Karen’s doing and ask how old she is. When I tell them she is turning 30, they can’t believe it. The little girl who medical people didn’t think would see five is now turning 30.” And it really is reason to celebrate. “Karen is the joy of our lives,” said Betty. “It is like living with an angel.”