WHAT’S WRONG WITH CONNER?114 | May• 2019T
HE LIGHTNINGhit
on a stormy June
a f ter noon i n 2016.
It thrashed through
the chimney of the
two-storey home,
before setting off a
gas explosion in the basement that
shook the walls.
Jeff Beish was in the living room
with his three-year-old son Conner
watching television. He grabbed
Conner, ran outside, and called
emergency services. While they
stood in the yard, fire surged through
the living room f loor.
Jeff’s wife, Hollie, and the Beishes’
other son, seven-year-old Jaxon, were
out. By the time they got home, fire-
fighters had extinguished the f lames.
The Beishes spent the next month
at a nearby hotel while the house
underwent repairs. Which would
have been fine, except that Conner
was sick and got worse at the hotel.
The Beishes hoped that his condi-
tion wasn’t serious. Certainly, they
reassured themselves, it was noth-
ing catastrophic. After all, lightning
never strikes the same place twice.B
ORN IN AUGUST 2012,Conner
had been a healthy infant. By
the time he turned one, he had
a full head of wav y blond hair and a
wide, mischievous smile. He started
walking at 13 months.
Words came slowly to Conner. By
his second birthday, he’d masteredabout ten of them; the number
should have been at least 50. “I
assumed it was because Jaxon would
always speak for him,” said Hollie,
something big brothers often do.
The Beishes’ paediatrician said not to
worry, that some children gain words
in bursts.
Months passed and Conner’s pro-
gress was still slow. The Beishes took
him to a speech pathologist.
In her late 20s, Hollie was 1.6 me-
tres tall. Jeff was a few years older and
much taller. A truck driver, he was
often away from home for extended
stretches of time. As a full-time mum,
Hollie adapted the most to Conner’s
limited communication.
If Conner didn’t know a word, he
would make a sound instead – imi-
tating the sucking of liquid through
a straw if he was thirsty, for instance.
Some words he understood but
couldn’t quite say: Jaxon was ‘Bub-
ba’, Jeff was ‘Da’, and Hollie was ‘Me’.
Conner started preschool at three.
When photo day rolled around, on
October 1, 2015, Hollie noticed that
he seemed tired. At school, Con-
ner sat for his picture, offering the
photographer a close-lipped smile.
Then, as he returned to his seat,
Conner crumpled onto the car-
pet. His teacher rushed him to the
nurse’s office. His forehead felt warm,
and soon he began convulsing. The
seizure lasted six minutes.
When the school called Hollie, she
jumped in her car, resisting the urge