A Year Of Joy, Tears Despite Battle With Aids, Kara Claypool Moves Ahead
On the last day of school, teacher Mary Haymond gave awards to all her first and second-graders. She handed out certificates for nice smiles, great reading, hard work and being good friends.
When she picked up the certificate “for someone who always has lots of hugs for everyone,” the children excitedly called out “Kara! Kara!” They knew who deserved that one.
Seven-year-old Kara Claypool, the first publicly known child with AIDS in Spokane schools, had a rough year.
She missed 40 days of school. She was hospitalized twice with shingles, a painful viral infection of the nerves.
She moves slower, looks smaller and paler than her Willard Elementary classmates. Her doctor said she hasn’t gained weight in two years.
She takes seven different medicines that boost her immune system and keep chronic infections at bay.
But AIDS dismantled her body’s natural defenses during the past 18 months and now she stands vulnerable to germs most people shake off without a cough.
She’s still stubborn, funny and sparkling.
“She’s given me joy and memories I’ll always have, that sense of awe and admiration that somebody so young can be so strong and tenacious,” said Haymond, who will teach Kara again next fall.
Kara was infected before or during birth. Her mother, Joyce, got the virus from her husband, a drug user who died of AIDS in 1990.
Kara’s entry into kindergarten in 1993 made Spokane history. Joyce Claypool decided to tell the other parents and all of Spokane about Kara’s illness.
She hoped Kara’s winning smile would melt some of the stigma around the disease. It did.
Kara’s worst health problems hit during the winter. Her hospital room at Deaconess Medical Center filled with flowers, balloons, stuffed animals and visitors in paper smocks and plastic gloves.
“At one point this winter when she wasn’t doing well, she said to me, ‘Mrs. Haymond, the end’s really close,”’ said her teacher. “All I could do was give her a hug. I couldn’t say, ‘Oh, it is not.’ That wouldn’t be an honest answer.”
Kara’s failing health scared everyone at school.
Principal Gene Wooley decided to prepare for Kara’s possible death like he did for her entry into kindergarten.
He asked for help from Hospice of Spokane, which sent AIDS response coordinator Kathy Ramsey and private therapist Larry Cronin.
Wooley wanted to build a relationship with them instead of waiting for the end and having “some strangers come in and tell us how to grieve.”
The counselors suggested books teachers could read with students, advised open communication about Kara’s hospitalizations and discussed how children view illness.
The Willard Elementary staff “have created a beautiful example for Spokane,” said Ramsey, who spoke to a reporter with permission from Joyce Claypool and the school.
“There are many families dealing with AIDS in Spokane. A school setting this caring precedent helps all of us.”
Between 12-day fevers and hospital stays, Kara had fun. She gaped at the giant, moving Christmas-light displays at the Creek at Qualchan golf course. She played with her dog, Narelle, whom the family inherited when Spokane AIDS activist Patrick France died last August.
She gave a ring to her friend Eli Doty.
“All the kids were talking about Kara and Eli being engaged,” said Joyce Claypool. “Then there were rumors that Kara kissed another boy at school.”
Spring brought a reprieve from the worst attacks on her health. The school’s air conditioning made her cold so her teacher brought a blanket to wrap around Kara’s shoulders.
When school aide Ronda Dahl heard about the blanket she decided the school should make a special quilt for Kara. The quilt has 40 squares, each one decorated by a child, a secretary or a teacher.
Kara’s square is in the middle. She drew a big apple surrounded by planets that all look like Saturn.
Kara received the quilt at a school assembly last week. To her teacher’s surprise, she asked to take the microphone.
“I’d just like to say thank you to Mrs. Dahl for the quilt and for always being so nice and helpful to all of us,” she said in a small voice.
“All of us” keeps echoing in Haymond’s mind.
“That’s the thing about Kara,” Haymond said. “She never takes it all to herself. That’s unusual for a child.”
Kara got her portrait done this year at one of those places that make real people look like models. In the photos, Kara sparkles, bedecked in feathers, makeup, satiny dresses and jewelry.
Chocolate streaking her face, the real-life Kara sat looking at the glamorous Kara photographs with a friend at a recent family barbecue.
“Which is the real Kara?” the friend asked.
Kara said, laughing, “The one with the chocolate on her face.”
, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: 2 Photos (1 Color)