Grandmother's caring comes with a melody

McClatchy Newspapers (MCT) - You'd be hard-pressed to catch Margaret Dyke on a bad day.

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And that's because the 57-year-old grandmother of 12 insists that there are no bad days.

That, in spite of the fact that Dyke is $1,000 and more than 30 days behind on her electric bill, which runs about $500 every month because of power-draining devices to care for her sick grandson.

On a recent visit to Dyke's home, she wasn't immediately visible. But you could hear her singing. Neighbors say it's usually reggae, something to remind her of her childhood home in the Bahamas. Sometimes it's funk, specifically a sassy island rendition of "Proud Mary," considering that Tina Turner is Dyke's favorite singer. Still other times, it's an old-school gospel tune like Blessed Assurance or something else by the prolific religious music writer Fanny J. Crosby.

The sounds of Dyke's voice drifted through the kitchen and down the hall to the object of her joy, a sight that could drive the strongest person to tears, but not Dyke.

"This is my little man. This is Julius," Dyke says. "He is my angel. He is my gift from God."

Julius Dyke, 15, bedridden and weighing barely 50 pounds, is Margaret's grandson. He was born with severe brain damage and cerebral palsy, and he can't speak. He'll be 16 on Jan. 28. His doctors told Margaret hours before his birth that Julius would not live to see age 1.

Every day of Julius' life, Margaret has been by his side, cleaning him, feeding him, suctioning life-threatening fluid from his mouth, trachea and lungs every 10 to 15 minutes, reading his heart monitor, measuring the levels in his oxygen tanks, injecting medication into his IV, comforting him with spiritual lullabies, whispering jokes to him, asking if he has needs _ a slight, almost imperceptible shake of the head means "no," but one blink means "yes," two blinks mean "yes!" and three mean "I told you yes already!" Sure, a nurse provided by the state comes to the Dyke home each evening to look after Julius so Margaret can have a break for food and sleep. And on Saturday afternoons, she is spelled a bit, so she can go to Fort Lauderdale Beach, Fla., and sing for the diners and drinkers at Sloppy Joe's. But the six days a week that she doesn't leave the house, Margaret tends to stay in Julius' room even for the 12 hours the nurse is there.

"I have to admit I enjoy the company, too," she says sheepishly. "Plus, I can keep an eye on the nurse. I love her. But I have to make sure my angel is cared for." Human nature being what it is, it's difficult to comprehend the smile glued to Margaret's face. Surely she must miss her old work, managing retail stores and nursing homes and singing in small venues across South Florida. "Taking care of Julius is my job now," she says matter-of-factly. Surely she must be tired. "I don't really feel much need for sleep," she says with a shrug. Surely she must be lonely. "Julius keeps me company," she reasons.

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To understand her spirit, one need only glance around Julius' bedroom and see all the photos of his late mother, Lisa Dyke.

Lisa was 18 and eight months pregnant with Julius when on Jan. 26, 1993, she was brutally raped and stabbed eight times while baby-sitting the child of the sister of Julius' father. Her assailant was the sister's boyfriend, recently paroled convicted killer Ronnie Keith Williams, then 31.

Two days later, Julius was born by Caesarean section, his brain deprived of oxygen from the time his mother was attacked.

Lisa survived on life support for 19 days before succumbing to her injuries on Valentine's Day. Williams was later convicted of her murder and is on Death Row.

"We communicated by handwritten notes, because she couldn't talk with the tubes," Margaret Dyke says, her Bahamian accent sharpening as she grows more passionate. "Some people don't believe in spiritual things, but I'm tellin' you Lisa hung on, because she was worried about what would happen to Julius. She was tired, weary. I know she wanted to go on to the next life. But she hung on. And then I realized why, and I told her to let go, that she had my word that I would take care of her boy... . And then she died. That was God. So you see, it's difficult sometimes, sure. I'm only human. But me and him, we were meant to be." Her smile brightens again and she gestures, two fingers from her eyes to Julius'.

There are things that Dyke could worry about. She receives less than $680 a month in Social Security benefits. And at least $400 of that goes to the electric bill each month, on account of Julius' breathing and heart machines. Then there's a $300 quarterly gas bill, which she has a hard time paying.

And while Medicaid covers much of Julius' medical expenses, her initial out-of-pocket expenses caused her to lose the home she lived in for 10 years. She's renting a home now, but the owner has put it on the market, and Margaret worries that she may have to uproot Julius _ something she had to do once before.

"Trust me, uprooting and moving with Julius is no easy task," she says.

She needs help. But she won't ask.

"Maybe that's the Proud Mary in me," she jokes, and turns back to Julius to sing him to sleep.

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© 2008, The Miami Herald.