'A father-son respect thing'

Nolan Picchietti a senior at Marian Central High School, and goalkeeper on the soccer team, has been helping with his father's physical therapy after David had a Cavernous Malformation removed from the stem of his brain in 2004. (Travis Haughton photo)

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LAKE IN THE HILLS – David Picchietti grasped his cane with one hand, his other firmly planted on the leather armrest of the couch, and eased himself upright.

Nolan, David’s eldest son, stood protectively next to him, never taking his eyes off his father and holding David’s left elbow in his hand to help David keep his balance. Once standing, one hand clutching his cane, the other tucked inside the left pocket of his jeans, David grinned.

“A few years ago,” David said, “this would have been unheard of.”

Nolan, a senior at Marian Central, nodded.

“Standing up with a cane was something we weren’t sure we’d ever do.”

David Picchietti, four years after enduring brain surgery to remove a cavernous malformation that had settled at the base of his brain stem, puts the cane slowly in front of him and begins to walk out of the Picchietti family’s living room toward the front door.

It’s about a 60-foot journey. It used to take David more than an hour to get from his chair in the family’s living room to the front door and back.

Thanks to Nolan and the tireless therapy he has helped his father through, the two have managed to shave David’s time down to six minutes.

“We still have a lot of work to do,” said Nolan, as he held out his arm toward his father, who continued the walk back toward his chair without needing his son for balance.

“But to say we’ve come a long way is an understatement.”

In between soccer matches, practices and making himself a solid student at Marian, Nolan has found time every day to help his father with therapy and spend time helping mold the person that his father has become post-surgery.

It’s a different person than the man who coached Nolan when he first discovered he wanted to be a goalie. But Nolan also is different.

“It made me more mature,” Nolan said, as he watched his father move back toward the living room. “I go to school now and I see kids who are so different than I am toward their parents, and a lot of them are kind of mean toward them, and I just think about how wrong that is and how you should never take your parents for granted.”

“I knew I’d have to grow up really fast”

In 2004, when Nolan was finishing eighth-grade and busy with sports, school and friends, David sought medical attention for headaches he had put up with for more than a year.

When doctors diagnosed David as having a cavernous malformation – a hereditary and non-cancerous cluster of abnormal dilated blood vessels in the brain – the Picchietti family’s world turned upside down.

David underwent immediate surgery. Afterward, he could no longer walk, speak or see clearly, or write.

Nolan was at a soccer camp in Iowa when his father had surgery. He had been told not to worry and that everything would be fine.

Doctors intially said recovery would take six to eight weeks.

“We’re still waiting for six to eight weeks,” Nolan said.

The surgery and David’s subsequent condition meant many changes to the life to which Nolan and his younger brother, Connor, had become accustomed. Their mother, Deirdre, went back to work because David’s work as a carpenter was done. Nolan had to help as the family went through therapy programs with David, including speech and physical therapy.

Doctors warned Deirdre her boys might rebel, but the opposite happened to Nolan – he grew up immediately.

“Everyone told me ‘You’ll see big changes in your kids,’ ” Deirdre said. “But we were very blessed. All we really did, especially the first year after David’s surgery ... was tell them all the time ‘Family is all we have.’ And these boys really listened, especially Nolan, which was encouraging, because he was at such a critical age.”

For the first year after surgery, David went to therapy in Northbrook every day. In April 2005, the family started taking David to Centegra Health System in Crystal Lake. Through Centegra, Nolan began to learn how to help his father at home: Walking next to him or behind him with either a cane or walker for balance, keeping track of how long it took to walk certain distances and counting how many times David reached out to touch Nolan for balance.

Every weekend, in between soccer practices and games, and every evening after school, Nolan would spend at least an hour doing therapy with his father.

Therapists at Centegra were astounded by David’s progress, Deirdre said.

“The therapists got to see the relationship the boys had with their father, and especially Nolan,” Deirdre said. “They could see that Nolan could really help David.”

Typically two to three years after surgery, therapy ends, Deirdre said, and insurance will not cover it any more.

“Nolan simply refuses to believe that,” Deirdre said. “He’ll talk about how when he’s at college, he’ll come home on the weekends and help his dad. He wants to get Connor ready to do the therapy so that when he’s gone, Connor will be able to take over. He’s turned into a leader, but instead of directing or telling you what to do, he’s just incredibly compassionate.”

Mutual respect and pride

Nolan led the Hurricanes to a second-place finish in the Suburban Catholic Conference this season and titles in both the Class 2A regional and sectional matches before bowing out to Chicago Lake View in the supersectional, one match shy of a berth in the Class 2A state soccer tournament.

It was an exciting year, and college interest and scholarship opportunities are both coming in.

The surgery might have changed many things in David’s life, but watching his son play soccer was one thing he didn’t have to give up.

From his wheelchair on the sidelines, David watched as Nolan saved many opponents’ shots at critical times during matches, including a 21-save performance in the sectional title match against Lakes.

And after every match, Nolan greeted his father before anyone else.

“I would tell him ‘Good job,’ ” David said, “and when he’d let one go by, even if they’d win, 7-1, I’d say ‘What happened there?!’ ”

“It’s a father-son respect thing,” Nolan said. “I probably wouldn’t be an athlete if it weren’t for my dad. And we’re as close as you’ll see a son and a father get.”

The compassion Nolan has developed over the years shows in his dealings with his soccer teammates, and the relationships he has on the field. He is one of the first to shake hands with officials before and after matches. He does not lead as much by words as he does by example. Marian coach Mike Golda said several times throughout the season that Nolan’s leadership, both as a player and as a person, carried the team in many situations.

“He puts a lot of care and compassion into everything he does,” Deirdre said. “He has made me so proud of him; he has such a big heart.”

A place to belong

Along with the adjustments of having his father in therapy, Nolan began his first year of high school at Huntley.

After feeling like he didn’t quite fit in there, Deirdre looked into the work study program at Marian. When the family qualified, Nolan began his sophomore year there.

It was an instant fit.

“He attributes a lot of how he is to being at Marian,” Deirdre said. “He feels like he’s part of a family there and that he’s really at home.”

The entire Picchietti family felt as though the Marian community reached out to them as well.

“I’ll come to these soccer games and I’ll be pushing David in the wheelchair and coaches and dads and fans will come and help me,” Deirdre said. “It’s truly been such a blessing to have both our boys at Marian. They know us very well and it is like a family.”

“If you get no help, you go no where.”

Nolan helped as his father sat back down on the leather couch in the family’s living room.

He tucked the cane behind a chair and sat at David’s side.

“They used to tell us that he might not ever walk,” Nolan said. “At least they never thought it would be without a rolling walker.”

David’s writing is returning as well, and his speech, although slow, is articulate. He still has two cavernous malformations – one on his left frontal lobe and another on the right.

Since they are not cancerous and are not at risk of bursting, David will never have them removed.

His sons have about a 50 percent chance of developing cavernous malformations.

Nolan’s only concern is helping his father cope.

And for that, David is grateful.

“If you get no help, you go nowhere,” David said. “I’ve got so much help, from my wife, to my son, my doctors.

“And for Nolan, I have a lot of pride.”