Macon man battles same disease that claimed his brother

Garrett Childers has walked this path before. He is familiar with the terrain. He has followed the same trail of tears, tubes, pain and prayers.

He has heard the words “mitochondrial disease” since before he was old enough to learn his multiplication tables. He watched his older brother, Austin, battle it with every ounce of his strength.

He held Austin’s hand, pushed his wheelchair and watched the community rally behind his family. You can still spot some of those “Prayers for Austin” stickers on car windows and back bumpers.

Garrett always will remember the special Friday night they brought Austin in an ambulance from Pine Pointe Hospice to the football stadium at First Presbyterian Day School, where the field was dedicated in his honor.

Austin never played for the Vikings. The disease sidelined him before he had a chance. Legendary college football coach Bill Curry, and others, spoke at Austin’s funeral three years ago this month. The word “courage” was repeated in every eulogy.

Now Garrett is trapped in a replay of the same nightmare. The difference is his battle with the same terminal disease that claimed his brother is a sprint, not a marathon.

Austin spent much of the last 11 years of his life surrounded by hospital walls. It was a slow march to the end. He was 23 years old when he died.

Garrett will be 23 in three weeks. He was showing no signs of the illness when he got married last April at the Library Ballroom in downtown Macon. It began raising its ugly head over the summer. He was hospitalized in September and diagnosed by a geneticist in Atlanta in October.

The advanced acceleration of the disease has baffled his family, friends and even some of his physicians. Garrett’s medical charts were like a blueprint of his brother — with a fast-forward button. What Austin endured over the last five years of his life, Garrett has experienced in rapid fire over the past six months.

For some parents, the term “empty nest” comes when their children go off to college, get married and start careers.

For Chris and Ashley Childers, blindsided by the reality of possibly losing both their children to the same disease, the last few months have been heartbreaking.

“We walk around in a daze,” said Ashley. “Some people don’t know what to say to us. It’s like describing somebody else’s life. How could this be happening? At this time last year, we had this new joy. Even though Austin would not be in our future, Garrett was getting married, and we had a sweet, adorable daughter-in-law.”

Garrett arrived in the world seven weeks premature on April 6, 1994. Ashley had spent the previous three months in pre-term labor. Austin was 3 years old, and would crawl in the bed with his mother, eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and watch episodes of ‘Barney.’ “

“Mama, are you having another ‘traction?’ “ he would ask.

As a child, Garrett’s development was slow. When he wasn’t walking or talking at 18 months, he was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. He was enrolled in the learning program at the Butler Center, then mainstreamed at Sonny Carter Elementary School. He later attended Woodfield Academy.

His heart’s desire was to go to First Presbyterian Day School — to be a Viking, like his big brother. He joined him there in the eighth grade.

Doctors suspected Garrett might eventually show the same warning signs, where the mitochondria in the body’s cells fail to generate the energy to support organ function. But the symptoms never raised their ugly heads until last year.

Garrett graduated from FPD in 2013 and enrolled in the ROTC programs at Middle Georgia State and Mercer. He was involved with boxing and the martial arts. He got a few tattoos. He wrote beautiful accounts of his brother’s life — and their time together — and shared them on Facebook.

In January 2014, just two months after Austin died, Garrett attended the Passion Christian Conference, along with more than 50,000 others, at the Georgia Dome in Atlanta. At registration, he was randomly assigned to the same small group with a young lady named Katie Ervin. She was from Pennsylvania and a student at Liberty University in Virginia.

They struck up a friendship, even though she was dating someone else at the time. Soon, a long-distance romance was kindled across the miles. They met each other’s parents — and even their pets — through the technological wonders of Skype.

They were married last April 23 at the Library Ballroom. Katie’s father escorted her “down the aisle” to the song “(At Last) I See the Light” by Mandy Moore from the animated Disney movie “Tangled.”

They began their lives as newlyweds in a small cottage they rented in midtown. In June, Garrett began having problems keeping his food down.

“We thought it might be acid reflux,” said Katie. “Mitochondria was our irrational fear.”

Garrett’s health problems kept escalating until the early fall, when he was hospitalized. The Childers family began re-connecting with some of the same doctors, nurses and other medical professionals who had cared for Austin.

Garrett and Katie moved out of their cottage and into his parents’ home. He is bedridden and hasn’t had a regular meal since September. There are tubes running to his stomach and small intestine. Katie works for a local insurance company but has arranged to handle most of her work from home, so she can be at his side.

“Even though he is sick, his No. 1 priority is how I feel,” Katie said. “He wants to make sure I am taken care of.”

The Childers covet the prayers of others. There now is a website, www.PrayersForGarrett.com. A benefit, raffle and silent auction is planned for 7 p.m. April 15 at the Library Ballroom, where Garrett and Katie were married. Proceeds will help the family with medical expenses.

“I have learned to be patient and understanding with people who may not understand,” Garrett said. “And I am trying to spend as much time with family and friends as I can. I have a good friend, Greyson Bargeron. He and his sister, Adelyn, were in our wedding. She was close to Austin. Greyson comes by every day. We play video games.”

Ashley thinks back on all those years when Garrett was in the background because of all the focus was on his brother.

“He went through so much,” she said. “He was always the one who was off to the side. He was the silent strength. He knows what he is dealing with because he walked that road with Austin, Chris and me. Now, there are times when he has a bad moment. But he is still a source of strength and calmness.”

This story was originally published March 17, 2017 at 6:24 PM with the headline "Macon man battles same disease that claimed his brother."