People Who Inspire

stories by MEREDITH MCKINNIE | photography by PRAJAL PRASAI

CHRISTOPHER COPELAND

Born to a farmer and a home economist, Christopher was the surprise sixth child. At only 12, Christopher lost his father, grandmother, and a close family friend in the span of three months. He was told to grow up fast, and he did. He started drinking to numb the pain and never stopped. His family had no history of substance abuse. Christopher found his demons all on his own, and he was a functioning alcoholic. He got his college degree, then his cosmetology license. He built a business from scratch; three different spa locations in Arkansas. He became a Master hairstylist, landing one of the most coveted jobs in the business, as a stage educator. He traveled all over the country, and was treated like royalty everywhere he went. They provided wardrobe, and people waited on him hand and foot. He was an on-stage educator at hair conventions with up to 5,000 people in attendance. Christopher was the “rock star of hair,” and with the lifestyle came backstage carts full of liquor, all he could consume. It was just part of the lifestyle.

After decades in the business, his joints in his hands started to deteriorate. The doctor would inject him yearly, but after ten years of shots, the effects wore off. The doctor said Christopher had the hands of someone who had picked cotton for 80 years. He had an arthroplasty on both hands, each with a nine-month recovery. He was out for 18 months, and his clients moved on. He was home alone, stressed, and liquor stores were right around the corner. He drank his pain. His occupational therapist suggested painting as a way to rehabilitate his hand, and an outlet for his emotions. In 2008, Christopher woke up to blood pouring out of his ears, nose and mouth. He was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. He quit drinking cold turkey for seven years. But when his brother died in 2015, Christopher couldn’t handle the loss. When he called and said he was sick, Christopher rushed to his bedside, stayed with him for two weeks, and then his brother, the one who stepped up and became his father-figure, died in his arms. He immediately started drinking again, abusing prescription and street drugs. Again, he wanted to numb the pain. Anytime he felt like things were looking up, that he could handle it, life would knock him down again.

But he missed who he was, and he didn’t like what he’d become.

Christopher had been a respected businessman, and now he was a shell of his former self. He told his therapist he wanted a change, and he was referred to Palmetto Addiction Recovery Center. He went in weighing only 145 pounds; he left three months later, much heavier and sober. He was living the life of a recovering addict, going to meetings and following the steps, and then the cirrhosis flared again. He was in a coma for a week and woke with no cognitive skills. He slipped into a coma twice more. He couldn’t turn on the TV. He saw the plate of food, wanted it, but couldn’t grab it. His mind worked, but his body refused. He remembers thinking, “If this is how I’m going to die, just do it already. I don’t want to live like this.” One year ago, Christopher was sent home on hospice and round-the-clock caregivers. He on the transplant list, but his body was wearing down. After two weeks in bed, he remembers getting on the floor and talking to God, something he’d never really done before in this way. “Show me what’s for me. Use me or take me.” He didn’t expect an answer, and especially not one so quickly.

The next morning, Christopher woke up, went out to his car, and started driving. He’s been up on his feet ever since. The doctor says he’s a walking miracle. His liver numbers have returned to normal. His college degree is in psychology, and his hands won’t allow him to do the grueling work of styling hair any longer. He needed a new purpose, a fresh start, and he went back to painting. Now Christopher is an art therapist in area rehabilitation clinics and hospitals as well as in his studio in Little Rock. He is able to help people, the same as people once helped him. It feels good to give back, to be semi-healthy again. He loves meeting with clients, talking about their problems and letting them paint through their pain. It’s a better option than how he used to cope. He knows what they’re going through, and he’s happy to be alive. He feels like he’s really living now instead of just going through the motions and hiding behind a facade. His life has been quite an adventure, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, but he’s thankful for all of it.

SID EPPINETTE

In November of 2017, Sid and Denise Eppinette’s world was turned upside down. Sid was out duck hunting when his boat was struck by negligent minors. It was foggy, and the water was congested with boat traffic. He and his passengers had pulled over on the bank when the boat was T-boned, and Sid was knocked out in the water, instantly paralyzed. AMR could only get as far as the boat dock, and the EMTs had to be motor-boated to the scene. His wife Denise remembers being awakened to her cell phone ringing and someone pounding on her door at 4 a.m. No one knew yet if Sid was alive. She debated whether to wake the kids, but didn’t know if and when they’d see their dad again. Sid spent ten days in the ICU at St. Francis Hospital. He suffered a spine fracture, multiple rib fractures, a lacerated liver, and had two feet of his intestine removed.

Sid was transferred to TIRR Memorial in Houston for his inpatient therapy. Since the trauma is so extreme, and the body swells in reaction, the doctors didn’t know the extent of his injuries or if he would walk again. After four days at TIRR, the doctors determined that surgery was needed to stabilize the spine by implanting a titanium rod. He spent six weeks learning to cope with his new reality, adjusting to the wheelchair, climbing in bed, loading into a vehicle, all the time trying to gain more mobility. At the end of the six weeks, the doctor said he had a 30% chance of walking again using a walker with limited distance, and Sid was surprised. He had expected less. The prediction was motivating, as Sid acknowledges he is bull-headed by nature. He knew he had to give therapy his all; what’s the harm in trying? He didn’t want to have regrets later. Denise never left his side, from the first night in the hospital to the extended stay in Houston. She learned how to care for her husband, as he needed assistance in all daily functions.

Once Sid and Denise returned home, the outpouring of love and support from their family, friends, and community was overwhelming. The neighbors chipped in, all adept at different skills, to make his home wheelchair accessible. Denise’s sister Sandy took over all of Denise’s responsibilities at home. Sid’s brother Kevin handled all of the family’s finances. The Eppinettes’ world stopped, and their loved ones made sure their kids’ lives kept moving. Sid started attending therapy at Melanie Massey Physical Therapy three times a week. He progressively got stronger, and learned how to handle his body and its limitations. As Director of Billing at CenturyLink, Sid was able to work from home, which was a blessing, as he acclimated to his new normal. Through a state grant, Sid was provided adaptive driving equipment, including hand controls and an electric seat. He was able to return to work and got a little of his freedom back.

Sid looks at his experience as “just another hurdle in life.” His condition is something he has to live with; at least he is alive. He cheated death, and he’s thankful to have use of the upper portion of his body. He can still shoot a gun, and actually went hunting for the first time on the anniversary of the accident. Being in therapy made Sid realize how lucky he really is. So many patients were much worse off, struggling to breathe, having no use of their arms. It was a humbling experience. Denise insists her husband of 27 years remained upbeat, as optimism is his default. She admits she was angry, primarily at the carelessness of the accident. One person’s mistake cost them dearly, and their life will never be the same.

Sid knew he had a choice. He could let what happened consume him, rob him of his joy, or he could take hold of his life, continue to do what he loves, and just find a new method for going about his life. For Sid, faith in God has provided a peace within, and knowing that God has a plan for his journey helps him to focus on moving forward. Sid’s progress has plateaued recently. He can slightly raise his left foot, has some motion in his hip flexors, and he can crawl a little on his hands and knees. He is plagued with sporadic spasms brought on by stress, weather, and emotion. He’s never had a full eight hours of sleep since taking the pain meds in the hospital, but he takes it all one day at a time. The accident was a blessing in that the Eppinettes have seen love in action. Their family, friends, work family, and community members have provided physical and emotional support. The donations, texts, and prayers keep coming. Fundraisers, T-shirt sales, all the support from local churches and schools, the response in a time of need is astounding. The Eppinettes couldn’t be more grateful, both for themselves and their children: Drake and his wife Kaylee, Chase, and Landry. Life is unpredictable, and the Eppinettes take their vows seriously. They will continue to persevere, one day at a time.

GINA JONES WHITE

Gina Jones White knows what it’s like to have life give you sour lemons. She’s lived it, she’s lived through it, and now she’s helping others to find their way through it as well. Born in Monroe, Gina’s dad died of a stroke when she was only ten years old. Immediately she was being raised by a single mother, one who worked full time while struggling for financial stability, and the onslaught of emotions after losing a spouse. Even though what they had was basic, her mother instilled a quality education, surrounded her with a village and their lives were full of love. Gina graduated from college with a degree in Mass Communications. She took a job with State Farm that allowed her to move to Texas, and then Florida before coming back to Monroe for a position with Chase. Gina’s maternal family has a long history of Alzheimer’s, and when her mother fell ill, she and her step-father became her mother’s caretaker. Roylene, her mother, battled the illness for eight long years before she died on Christmas Day, 2011.

Gina had married her sweetheart Vincent only three months prior to her mother’s death. The couple endured grief, financial struggle, job losses, and eventually infertility. Life kept hitting Gina from all angles, but she kept going. In October of 2018, Gina and Vincent adopted a little girl they named Allison Roylene, after Gina’s late mother. She is now four years old and has brought their family full circle. Gina and Vincent have not given up hope for a biological child. They are still researching their infertility issues, hoping one day God will bless them with another child.

Gina notes that infertility is particularly hard for women because they’re expected to procreate. There’s still a sense of shame attached to one’s inability to conceive. Gina wants to remind readers that it doesn’t come easy for everyone. And it’s a lonely, isolating struggle, made harder when one sees pregnant bellies and healthy babies all around. Gina knows what it’s like to carry a child. She delivered a stillborn little girl in 2007, long before she met Vincent. She wants to experience pregnancy again. She wants the joy of holding a newborn in her arms. She wants to carry a child to term and that have child live. The Whites remain hopeful, leaning on faith and each other.

In the meantime, Gina has found a new joy in her profession. In July of 2018, shortly before Allison’s adoption, Gina took a job with the Christopher Youth Center as an Outreach Coordinator/Case Manager, where she helps advocate for homeless, victimized, and runaway youth. It’s a rewarding position. It reminds her that we are all human, and we have more common threads than we realize. She loves going home at the end of the day knowing she has helped someone. The Christopher Youth Center offers housing programs for young adults to reestablish themselves through housing and financial stability. People constantly ask how and why people end up in this position, in need of other’s help. Gina reminds us that we are all one medical issue, one death, one job loss, one bad decision away from needing help ourselves. Gina knows because she’s lived on the other side of needing help.

Five years ago, Gina recommitted herself to her faith and God. She promised him if he would bring her through, she would use her voice to tell her story, and she’s been doing so ever since. Her work at the Center is another way for her to advocate for the cause of others. Gina wants everyone to know that God gives us all obstacles. We can’t always see what someone else is going through, but know that everyone goes through something at different times. We all have a cross to bear. Our plan is not always God’s plan. The best we can do is give back; help those who need it; and find joy in what we can do for others. It’s lasting, and gives our lives a sense of purpose. Gina has Vincent and she has Allison. She has her strong faith, her relationship with Christ, family, friends and she has hope. She is still praying for the baby she knows God can give her. For now, she will focus her efforts on her family, on the kids at the Center who need her guidance, and the people she meets who need to hear her story.

KYLIE GWIN

Malerie Gwin’s daughter Kylie is full of life. She has always been Malerie’s little mini-me. Anything Mom did, Kylie mimicked. At 5 ½ years old, Kylie contracted strep throat, and it was odd since she had never really been sick before. When they went to the doctor, Kylie was diagnosed with alopecia, an auto-immune disease that attacks the hair follicles. Her body started attacking all her cells, the good and the bad. Every alopecia case is different, and Kylie’s was alopecia areata. In July 2017, a month after the strep, Malerie noticed the first bald spot on Kylie’s head. Her hair had always been long, blond, and thick, the envy of everyone. They returned to the doctor, started steroid treatments, but eventually Kylie’s hair began falling out in handfuls. They cut seven inches off to decrease the weight, try to salvage every strand they could. Malerie did the same, mimicking her daughter now, so she wouldn’t feel alone. They would braid the hair, to keep it clean so they wouldn’t have to wash it as often, anything to prevent it from falling out. But after a while, she only had mere strands left. In April of 2018, Kylie looked at her mom and dad and said she was ready to shave her head.

There wasn’t much to shave, but it was all officially gone, and Kylie has been bald and beautiful ever since. She dances, tumbles, cheers and competes in CrossFit Kids. She began wearing wigs, but with all of her physical activities, they weren’t practical, so Kylie decided she would rock no hair at all. And she does so boldly and full of pride. They’ve seen numerous doctors, and endured shots in her scalp. Kylie was sick for a year after her diagnosis, in and out of hospitals, but she never lost her spirit. She’s always happy, no matter the circumstances. She now has no body hair, no eyebrows, no lashes, no hair on her arms or even a sprout on her head. In December, Kylie will be entering a pediatric trial for a new prescription medication, the next step in the process, but for the meantime, Kylie is just living a full life.

Everyone is inspired by Kylie’s spirit and perseverance. She received the Good Citizenship Award in school, and is still her sassy self, and consistently brave. She is an inspiration to everyone she meets. Kylie has to wear her disease, because a bald head on a little girl is immediately noticeable. Through it all, to Malerie’s knowledge, Kylie has never been bullied. She has had quite a few kids ask if she is a boy or a girl, and some question if she has cancer. Malerie believes it’s important for Kylie to have these experiences now because she will always be asked about her appearance. Yes, people stare, but the response has always been love and support. Malerie is humbled by the outreach from our community. She is thankful to God, her family, Kylie’s school, and local churches. At Claiborne Christian School, where Kylie attends, a day is observed during September, Alopecia Awareness Month, and everyone wears blue just for her. She knows they support her, and she sees it all day long. Some of Malerie’s friends have even had alopecia tattoos in honor of Kylie. Churches send cards and encouraging words. Friends have small fundraisers, as alopecia is not covered under insurance, as it’s considered a cosmetic condition. All the doctor’s appointments and treatments are expensive. One friend brought Kylie an alopecia Barbie doll; another got her an American Girl doll with alopecia. It’s important for Kylie so see herself represented. The response has been consistent love and support for over two years. Malerie is not sure if it’s the people’s hearts or Kylie’s light, but it’s all been a blessing.

Now Malerie can’t even imagine Kylie with hair. She worried after the diagnosis what it all would mean. How would she navigate the pressures of high school and dating? But, Malerie learned what she’s already known, beauty is inside, and we have to let go of how we look. It’s not about that. Malerie is teaching Kylie to channel her inner beauty, that she is beautiful and vibrant without hair; she can still be girly and feminine. She’s learned the little problems don’t matter, we have to love ourselves, and the beauty shines through. Kylie taught her mom that. Malerie admits she doesn’t know if she could walk around without a wig; she would lose her sense of security. But Kylie can, and she reminds her mother every day how strong she is. Kylie will be eight in December, and she’s Malerie’s little warrior. She’s her mom’s hero. Malerie admires her daughter’s strength, and how every day is a blessing meant to be lived out loud.

MELISSA AND MATTHEW DOLLAR

Melissa and Matthew Dollar knew they were destined to be parents. When pregnancy didn’t happen naturally, the two sought out a fertility specialist in Metairie. The doctor said theirs was a complex case, one he hadn’t seen in over 40 years, and unfortunately that pregnancy wasn’t possible.

Matthew had been born premature, at only 28 weeks. They dubbed him the “miracle baby,” at St. Francis. He spent the first six months of his life in the NICU, beating all the odds. Due to those complications early, Matthew would not be able to conceive children. Melissa and her husband were devastated. They mourned what they had imagined for themselves, that a traditional family wasn’t going to happen for them. Once they resigned themselves to their reality, they started considering adoption, though they didn’t even know where to start.

Melissa ran into a friend who mentioned an adoption attorney, Terri Hoover Odom, who worked at the Center for Adoption in West Monroe. Adoption was now in the forefront of the Dollar’s minds. They had found peace in their fate, and they knew God would provide a way for them to be parents. With Melissa being a childhood educator and Matthew working in the medical field, they were committed to this goal. Matthew has worked for eight years in the NICU at St. Francis, with some of the same nurses who took care of him. He craved fatherhood. When Melissa told Matt about the adoption center, she was overjoyed, just couldn’t get the words out fast enough. The two prayed together, determined to commit themselves to the process. They filled out a profile in September of 2013, a snapshot of their life together. Expectant mothers are allowed to peruse the books in hopes of finding a suitable match for their unborn baby. Over the next several months, the Dollars received a few calls of interest, but nothing ever worked out. Then in May of 2014, the Dollars were just getting home from a dinner date, when the phone rang while they were pulling in the driveway. It was Jackie (Mrs. Terri’s assistant),and she said, “She picked you.” They were stunned, immediately inquiring when the baby was due. The only had four days. It was Memorial Day weekend; they didn’t even have a bassinet, because purchasing baby supplies would be too difficult if nothing ever happened.

On the way to the hospital the following Tuesday, Melissa and Matthew were too nervous to even talk. They had no idea what to do or where to go. The hospital in Shreveport was under construction, so visitors were limited. It was just the two of them, about to meet their daughter. When they walked in the room, they saw the birth mother and a tiny little girl lying there. The birth mother told them she had waited for them to be the first ones to hold her. They named her Ayla, meaning “halo of light,” a name they had always imagined for their little girl. They got to visit with the birth mom for a few hours, and when she was discharged the next morning, they spent a whole day with Ayla, feeding and snuggling her, so grateful. They were allowed to take Ayla home Thursday, and Monday morning they got the call that the paperwork was finalized. Ayla was officially theirs.

A year later they were in Judge Marchman’s office for the official ceremony, July 28, 2015, Ayla’s Forever Day. The Dollars are so thankful to be parents. They love all the firsts, school calendars on the fridge, all the birthdays. They never take birthday parties for granted. The whole process has been so beautiful and rewarding. The birth mother was selfless enough to want a better life for her daughter, and because of her choice, the Dollars became parents. Though it is a closed adoption, Melissa sends a yearly picture to her birth mother. Ayla is now five, and just started kindergarten. When she recently asked about being in Mommy’s tummy, Melissa and Matthew told her another lady carried her for them, always keeping the language age-appropriate. They don’t keep her adoption a secret; they’re proud of their journey. The couple calls Ayla “our everything.” Matthew was a miracle baby and so is she. The adoption was a “rough but beautiful season of life.” The impossible became possible.