Cory Carrier: He didn't let muscular dystrophy keep him from living joyfully

Growing up in a wheelchair can be a pain

Everybody stares at you thinking you don't have a clue

Nobody wants to come near you, not knowing what you might do

And sometimes its hard to make friends

It's that insight, written by Cory Carrier when he was 6, that helped him cope with muscular dystrophy.

His early years were spent in and out of the hospital, surrounded by adults, absorbing their lingo, and sitting in his wheelchair observing life.

Carrier was what his mother called "her little sponge."

His age belied his maturity.

"You could have conversations with him at 6 years old and you'd think you were talking to an adult," said his father.

Carrier never — through childhood, his teen years or as a young man — considered muscular dystrophy a disability. It was just life. And, occasionally, the launching pad for wicked pranks.

Substitute teachers were prime targets for the Canyon del Oro High School graduate. Nothing was funnier to him and his friends in class than the expression on the face of a teacher as Carrier pressed a button on his wheelchair causing it to emit a sustained beep as he slumped over in his chair, seemingly unconscious.

"Teachers would either not know what to do or come running across the room," said his father, Chris Carrier.

It's stories like these — emphasizing Carrier's humor, intelligence and creativity — that friends and family will remember Sunday at his memorial service. The 21-year-old Pima Community College student died Oct. 1 after contracting influenza A and the H1N1 virus.

The celebration of Carrier's life begins at 2 p.m. at Vistoso Memorial Chapel, 2285 E. Rancho Vistoso Blvd., Oro Valley.

"Cory really was the type of person who lived life in the moment, didn't worry about tomorrow," said his cousin, Richard Vanover of Phoenix. "He lived life the best way he knew how. I know a lot of people respected him and looked up to him. Which he also joked about. How could we look up to him when we always had to look down at him."

Carrier, a Tucson native, was 3 when he was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy. At 6, he underwent a risky, but successful operation to stabilize his spine. Though he needed assistance breathing, his parents opted for a noninvasive pneumobelt instead of a tracheotomy. An air bag inside the corsetlike pneumobelt fitted around Carrier's abdomen just under his diaphragm. When attached by tubing to a ventilator, it alternately inflated and deflated the air bag forcing air out of his lungs, then allowing for passive inhalation to provide a natural breathing rate.

"He could talk, eat well. It made his quality of life so much better," said his mother, Jamie Holt.

Over the years, Carrier was involved with the local branch of the Muscular Dystrophy Association, serving as the Arizona goodwill ambassador in the mid-1990s. Even at 8, "his charm and personality kicked in, and they felt he would do a good job for it," said his father.

Carrier attended Donaldson Elementary and Cross Middle schools and graduated from CDO in 2006. He was academically gifted and participated in school activities — bowling, choral groups, theater productions — alongside other students. From a young age, he enjoyed photography.

"He didn't hold himself back from anything and he didn't consider himself different, except that he used wheels for legs," said his mother.

He was creative and self-confident and had his own neo-beatnik style, sporting hats, thick-framed glasses and a goatee to arty effect. He was studying digital and film arts at PCC and had designed Web sites and company logos for friends.

"He was so bright and so funny, and he always had something clever to say," friend Jessica DeMilt said. "What I loved most about him is how funny he was and how upbeat and positive he was all the time. He was kind of a light in any sort of dark situation."

Carrier usually spent Friday nights hanging out with his friends and poker buddies Brett Champlin and Ben Schippers.

"Being around him just put a smile on your face. You were laughing all the time. There was never a dull moment with him," Champlin said. "We didn't see him as someone in a wheelchair. He was just a friend."

Added Schippers: "Cory was a really, really strong person. He never let anything get in his way. He never made it seem like he ever had a problem."

It wasn't until after Carrier's death that his parents, who are divorced, discovered their son's friendships spanned the globe. Through chat rooms, social networking sites, Twitter and blogs, Carrier made friends and even counseled many face-to-face via his webcam.

"We didn't know … how many people's lives he touched," his father said. "He was their counselor, listening to their problems, helping with their problems. He was a motivator, never letting his limits slow himself down, and he made others kind of realize whatever's bothering them may not be as bad as they think when they realize who's talking to them and what kind of challenges he's dealing in life. He helped a lot of people out there."

Said his mother: "He seemed to be the online community counselor for the whole world."

the series

This feature chronicles the lives of recently deceased Tucsonans. Some were well-known across the community. Others had an impact on a smaller sphere of friends, family and acquaintances. Many of these people led interesting — and sometimes extraordinary — lives with little or no fanfare. Now you'll hear their stories.

On StarNet

Did you know Cory Carrier? Add your remembrance to this article online at azstarnet.com/lifestories