DATE: Sunday, April 6, 1997                 TAG: 9704070430

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B1   EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA 

SOURCE: PAUL SOUTH

                                            LENGTH:  137 lines

A STORY OF MIRACLES IN THE FACE OF A CHILD'S DEATH

The Mauldin family of Roanoke Island engaged in a nightly ritual sometimes lasting an hour, initiated by their 8-year-old son, Robert Adam Mauldin Jr., better known as ``Rambo.''

``At our house, we always say I love you,'' says Robert Mauldin Sr. ``Rambo used to tell us that every day. But he started a new thing, where he'd ask, `Dad, how much do you love me?' and I'd say, `I love you 1,000 times,' and he'd come back and say, `I love you 10,000 times.' And it would keep going up and up and up. But he learned a new word, and he'd always get me with it.''

The word?

``He'd say, `I love you infinity.' ''

Rambo Mauldin, the little boy whose love knew no bounds, died on Good Friday in the arms of his mother, Georgia, of advanced neuroblastoma stage 4, advanced cancer of the nervous system. Rambo wrestled with the cancer for five years and 10 days, more than half his life.

But this is not a sad story. In fact, this is a story of miracles.

The first miracle occurred shortly after Rambo was diagnosed with the cancer. A tumor - ``about the size of two cigarette packs one on top of the other'' - was discovered by doctors in March 1992 with vinelike tentacles wrapping around internal organs.

``The tumor that they found went from the adrenal gland on the right kidney, under the diaphragm and over and wrapped around the aorta to the heart,'' Georgia Mauldin recalls. ``They said he had less than two weeks. With treatment, they thought he might be able to buy a little time.''

Doctors were able to remove the tumor. And Rambo lived five years.

Rambo's second miracle came thanks to the generosity of people all over northeastern North Carolina. Rambo needed a bone-marrow transplant.

``We needed $30,000 before we could walk in the door,'' Georgia said. ``The communities raised $30,000.75. We had exactly what we needed.''

And through two bone marrow transplants, chemotherapy, radiation treatments, medicines, Rambo Mauldin never lost his smile. His determination started the moment his folks told him of his illness, using a common childhood toy to explain.

``It was tough enough to tell him he had a bad spot they had to cut out,'' Georgia said. ``But we found out it had gone into the bone marrow, and then it had scattered all throughout his body. We explained it like the Legos he had dropped, and they had gone everywhere. You know how Legos are. Months down the road, people were still finding Legos and we never really found all of them. That's how we explained it. That when they went to pick up this mass that was in his stomach, that it had broken to pieces and went all over his body. And that it was going to take a lot of special people to go in and find these Legos. And it was going to take a lot of medicines, and it was up to him what he wanted to do. He said, `I don't care.' ''

It was not until the last week of Rambo's life that fear showed its face at the Mauldin house. Through the years, he defied the odds, doing the things that young boys do - roller hockey, roller blading, raising a menagerie of pets: five hamsters, four kittens, two dogs and a bird.

``The doctor from New York (Sloan-Kettering's Brian Kushner) called before we ever went up there,'' Bob Mauldin said. ``He asked where Rambo was, and he couldn't believe he was outside. At the time, he was playing street hockey.''

But late last month, angry tumors were in his stomach, head, and throughout his body.

``Monday he said, `I don't want to go upstairs . . .' That's when we knew it was time to stop,'' his mother said.

``Going upstairs'' meant a stay in Children's Hospital of The King's Daughters in Norfolk.

``He never said no,'' his mother said. ``He always said, `Give me my medicine, give me my surgery.' ''

Rambo had one special wish. He'd always wanted to see Niagara Falls. And on the Thursday before he died, he did.

``He said, `I want to go out of the country, and I want to see the falls,' '' Georgia said. ``He loved natural beauty. He loved flowers, green grass, bugs. He loved being outside. He loved everything beautiful.''

``We debated all week about that trip, he was so sick and he felt so bad,'' Georgia said. ``But we left it to him. He said, `Just pack.' ''

Two hours after arriving in Canada, his seizures began. But even on the emergency flight home, he managed to drink sweet joy from a bitter cup.

``The pilots got permission to buzz the White House,'' Georgia said. ``When they told Rambo what they had done, he pumped his fist and said `All right.' ''

On Friday, the Mauldin family was granted a third miracle.

``There was never any chance of us losing hope that he would beat it. And he did, as far as I'm concerned, he did,'' Georgia Mauldin said. ``In my arms that night . . . the tumors went away. When he took his last breath, they went away. He had one here, the size of a baseball,'' she said pointing to the forehead. ``If you looked at his forehead did you see how smooth it was? He had one on his eye that was the size of a golf ball, and it went away. He had three in his neck, and the nurse and I both felt, and they went away. God took his soul to heaven, and he healed his body for me, and for Bob.''

Rambo's last hours gave his parents an unforgettable gift.

``He said, `I don't want to go, Mommy. Please help me.' And I helped him to go. I said, `Baby, you've got to go; God's been calling you all day. And you're not gonna hurt no more.' And he asked for Bob's badge. That was the last thing he asked for.''

Rambo cradled his father's Alcoholic Beverage Control agent's badge in his hands, and put it to his face. He then asked for a shower.

``He stood on the bed, picked out his clothes, and told us he loved us. That was the phrase with him,'' Bob Mauldin said. `` `Daddy, I love you. Momma, I love you.' ''

And throughout the day, something strange kept happening.

``He would hold his hands up as high as he could, his palms up, and say `Not yet. Not yet. I'm not ready to play.' Just like he was reaching out to angels. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.''

Bob Mauldin saw a different little boy as his life on earth ebbed away.

``His whole facial expression changed. It was if the pain just went out of his body. . . .''

Georgia Mauldin picked up her husband's thought: ``And we watched those tumors disappear. That's why we say he beat it. We've seen a miracle.''

And is she still afraid of death and dying?

``Never again. Never again.

``I believe that God can do anything. And I believe Rambo had a lot of purposes on this earth, and he accomplished them all.''

Rambo inspired people at all the hospitals he visited, and employees of USAirways who arranged discount flights.

``He was a giver,'' his mother said. ``Once at Christmas, he bought coloring books and crayons for all the kids in the hospital. He would buy chocolate truffles and candles for radiologists. He wanted to do for people. He loved everyone.''

Rambo was buried last Tuesday wearing one of his many pairs of sunglasses, and with a Monkey puppet. A standing-room only crowd joined his mom, dad and big brother Chris at Bethany United Methodist Church in Wanchese to pay respect to the little boy with boundless courage and boundless love.

Soloists sang ``In the Garden,'' ``Angels Among Us,'' and ``Go Rest High on the Mountain.'' A children's choir sang ``Jesus Loves Me.'' And as the service ended, white balloons with blue ribbons were released to the heavens.

But the memories remain. Georgia Mauldin treasures what her son said once after he was punished for getting into mischief.

``I went in and sat in the floor and I said, `Honey, you know how hard it is for me to punish you. I only do it because I love you. And we need to be good people.' ''

``He said, `That's OK, Mom. Even the bad times make good memories.' ''

Georgia Mauldin paused for a moment.

``Even bad times make good memories,'' she repeated. ``And they do.''

ILLUSTRATION: Color photo

Robert Adam Mauldin Jr., better known as ``Rambo,'' died of cancer

on Good Friday.

Send Suggestions or Comments to webmaster@scholar.lib.vt.edu