Brave Leukemia Victim, 5, Remembered as a True Hero

Little Ricky Reed’s life was surrounded by make-believe heroes, but--in death--he was remembered Friday as the real hero, for having the courage of a soldier and the unabashed love of a wonder-filled child.

Five-year-old Ricky lost his much-publicized battle against leukemia. He had come within days of receiving healthy bone marrow from perhaps the only person in the world who, doctors believed, might have saved him: his 6-month-old baby sister.

But, as it had all his life, leukemia dogged Ricky unmercifully, and he was never in remission long enough to undergo the surgery that was intended to replace his diseased blood with a source of new, healthy blood.

The youngster died peacefully in his sleep Tuesday, and on Friday he was remembered by family and friends during a memorial service at the St. Mary’s Star of the Sea Catholic Church in Oceanside.

In his eulogy, Navy Hospitalman 1st Class Sidney Lawrence, a friend of Ricky’s parents, Ricardo and Theresa Reed, characterized Ricky’s life with some of the definitions of courage: “bravery, boldness, fierceness, gallantry, defiance. . . .”

“Those are the things,” said Lawrence, “I saw in little Ricky Reed every day. We as military don’t even have all of those traits.”

Saying that adults should take a lesson in Ricky’s battle for life, Lawrence added, “Let’s not pray to be sheltered from danger, but to be fearless in the face of it.”

A different perspective on Ricky’s life was offered by 10-year-old friend and Camp Pendleton neighbor Jennifer Kephart, whose brother was Ricky’s best friend.

“Richard was a boy we all loved,” she said, struggling to read her notes and maintain her composure. “Lovable and kind. When my brother broke one of his toys, Ricky didn’t mind.

“The sound of his voice is something I’ll treasure forever.”

Ricky was diagnosed with leukemia more than two years ago and had sustained both the physical and emotional roller coaster of remissions and active outbreaks while undergoing a regimen of chemotherapy and radiation treatments.

His best hope for survival was to have his infected bone marrow replaced with healthy marrow--the thick, almost granular substance within the bone structure that manufactures the blood’s red and white cells.

But none of the 210,000 people listed in the National Bone Marrow Program had exactly the same kind of bone marrow that, if transplanted into Ricky’s ailing body, could possibly save his life. Such bone marrow matches are 1-to-20,000 long shots at best--and were worse in Ricky’s case because race plays a role in the chemistry of bone marrow, and relatively few bone marrow donors were Latino as Ricky was.

Neither his parents nor his younger brother, Reuben, had exact matches either.

In the midst of all this, baby sister Raena was born last November and, offering the glimmering hope of a miracle, she was found to be an exact bone-marrow match to her older brother. At the time, Ricky said he was just glad to have a baby sister in the house to hold and play with.

Doctors at the Navy Hospital in Balboa Park and at Children’s Hospital in San Diego planned to transplant bone marrow to Ricky from Raena as soon as she was old enough--about 4 months.

Ricky’s doctor, Navy Capt. Bill Thomas, remembers those efforts as they came to a head in March.

“We were ready and excited, and had been treating Ricky’s own bone marrow for use as back-up,” he said. “Then, Ricky came down with a 103-degree fever. Bacteria got into his hip bone, and then the leukemia came back.

“We put him back on chemotherapy for six weeks and knocked it down. We were going to have the surgery on a Monday, April 22. But, on the Saturday before, the leukemia came back, just like that. He had only been in remission for two days, and that’s not really much of a remission.”

This time, Ricky was never able to beat it back--and, as if sensing it, he made a final to-do list for the rest of his life.

He wanted to see the new Teen-age Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, have a sleep-over party with his buddies, go fishing, buy another Batman toy, and go to Disneyland and Sea World.

On Monday, he was still checking off his list, and spent part of the day at a toy store in Oceanside buying his Batman toy.

“He was turning to God more than ever, too,” said Theresa Reed. “He wanted us to read him the Bible, and he had a vision of God. He said he accepted going. He said, ‘I’m ready.’ ”

On Tuesday, he died in his sleep.

He never got to Disneyland or Sea World, his mother said. “But now, he can see them all for free,” she smiled.

At Friday’s service, the Rev. Mario Lesga spoke of how Ricky set an example for adults by seeking out love and offering it back in return, and of how he was filled “with wonder and excitement” by the world around him despite his own adversity.

“His death is made easier to bear by learning from him how to live,” Lesga said. “I can see why Jesus admonishes us to be more like children.”

“Ricky and kids like him don’t sit around and worry about tomorrow,” Thomas said. “They just live one day at a time, and that’s great for them. They tolerate pain. They don’t complain. That’s the great thing about pediatrics work.

“And Ricky taught me a lesson. One day I was really busy, and he told me to stop. He said, ‘I need my hug today.’ ”

Ricardo Reed, himself a Navy hospital corpsman, said he and his wife had braced themselves for Ricky’s death.

“We always balanced optimism with realism. We were always hoping he could beat this, but realistically, the odds were against him, and we were able to prepare ourselves for that, too.

“He fought a good fight. He didn’t lose. He’s just in a better place. He gave everybody a good example. He always went the extra mile and never lost hope. That’s what I’ll remember about my son.”

Ricky will be buried Monday in Tucson, home of his paternal grandparents.