Dr. Lin told us that Charis would spend some time in the recovery room, but we couldn’t see her because her condition was too unstable.  He instructed us to go upstairs to the Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit, and when she was moved upstairs, we could see her there.  Again, we lined up like school children on a field trip behind Rhoda as she guided us through the confusing corridors, leading us up to the CVICU.  She stopped at a closed door, opened it for us, and said “Don’t leave this room; as long as someone is here, it is yours”.  It was a small “family consultation” room only a few steps from the swinging double doors of the high-tech unit that was caring for our girl.  The room contained two hard institutional style couches and a few chairs.  There was a telephone on a low table tucked in the corner, a TV on top of a scarred dresser, and our own bathroom.  Rhoda, Steve and Scott said a prayer with us and left with the promise to be back soon.  We knew it would be awhile before we could see Charis, so we decided to go in search of the hospital cafeteria. 

            Quick arrangements were made with those gathered around to decide who would stay in the room, and who would go eat.  I can imagine how we looked as we filed into the cafeteria.  None of us had slept the previous night, and we had sat and lay in our clothes for hours and hours.  We were crumpled, sleepless, and worried sick.  We must have looked like homeless refugees.  We all sat around the breakfast table together, bowed our heads, joined hands, and thanked God.  We thanked him not only for our food, but also for all of us gathered there, and especially for our girl lying upstairs.  We begged Him to heal her and bring her back to us.  Then we forced ourselves to eat the first of many nameless, shapeless, tasteless meals that we would face in the next days and weeks.  The only thought on our minds was to get back upstairs so we could see her.   

As we arrived back at our room, my sister met us in the hallway with the news that we could all go in and see her in a few minutes.  The visiting times were very strict in the CVICU.  From 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. every other hour for 15 minutes, no more than two people at a time. We anxiously waited for the approval to go see her.  They wanted all of us to come in at once so that everything could be explained one time.  We huddled outside of the CVICU staring at the doors, as they swung open to let people in or out.  Inside was the darkened CVICU.  As we walked in, we whispered to each other in fear as we were directed to bed 6.  The nurse motioned us to gather around her bed.  I stared in horror at my sweet angel.  There were tubes, IV’s, and electrical leads all over her.  She was so still lying in that bed.  Her skin was still a ghastly ivory color, what we could see of it.  Her face had gotten puffy from all the fluids pumped into her.  It was scary to see that, since she had always been a very thin girl.  The nurse began to explain each tube and machine and drug to us.  Charis was hooked to a monitor that showed her constant heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, and several other readings.  She had an inter-arterial balloon pump in the artery near her groin that assisted her heart.  Her other thigh was covered in bandages, as they had harvested an artery to use for the by-pass there.  She was still on a ventilator, and the strap they used to hold it in place circled her head.  There was a central line IV in her chest.  She had several IV lines in each arm, and her wrists were strapped down.  She had a huge, thick bandage on her chest, and her neck was still orange from the iodine used during surgery.   As I stroked her cold, limp hand, I would curl her fingers around mine, trying to will her to respond.  But every time I curled her fingers and released them, they would hang limp again.  The nurse very sweetly told us that she could hear what we were saying and encouraged us to bend over and talk to her.  We took turns standing by her head, one hand on top of her head, and one hand holding a limp hand.  We would bend over and whisper to her and kiss her forehead.  I imagine everyone said about the same thing.  When I bent over, I urgently whispered, “I love you baby!  Please fight and stay with us!”  Then I turned to my big Dad.  My 6’4” rock that I’ve never seen cry.  I told him “Come say something to her, Dad”.  And he moved up to her head, took her petite hand in his big one, touched the top of her tousled head, bent over, and immediately stood back up.  Tears were streaming down his face, as his shoulders shook.  He was weeping!  Not silent weeping, either!  He was sobbing.  He managed to stammer, “I can’t” as he moved away from her bed.

            We slowly filed from the CVICU with stunned looks on our faces.  The unbelievable events of the past 12 hours had taking a huge emotional toll on all of us.  The reality of her future, if there was one was just starting to sink in.  We were exhausted and felt like we had just fought some sort of battle.  In reality, Charis fought the battle, and we watched, prayed and agonized during it.   I sat down to make a few more phone calls.  I called Charis’ school to tell them that she wouldn’t be in for an indefinite period, telling them what had happened.  I made a call to my work, wanting to fill them in, also.  I called the mother of Hannah’s best friend and told her what was going on.  How humbling to get a casual acquaintance on the phone and say “I have a huge favor to ask”.  Then I explained the situation and before I could finish, she interrupted me and said, “I would love to keep Hannah”.  Hannah and Heather had the same school schedule and were both in honor choir, so it was very convenient to have Hannah there.  She could still keep her own schedule going, and not be interrupted.  They had been practicing for their spring musical, which was being performed on Thursday evening.           

            Friends and family began calling.  One of my co-workers called and said, “How many people are there?  I’m bringing lunch for everyone!”  She didn’t give me a choice, or make an offer; she stated what she was doing.  That touched me in a way I didn’t know was possible.  Very quickly, I was to realize that typical human pride needed to be set-aside at a time like this.  Everyone that called offered to help in whatever way I needed.  I finally realized that I did indeed need help, and would reply with “don’t offer if you don’t mean it, because I’m going to ask for help”.   Rhonda went home for a few hours to make arrangements for the kids.  I told her, “Rhonda, please pretend like the kids are yours, make decisions like they are yours”.  Then I gave her the names of people that had offered to help out with the kids.  She promised to be back as soon as possible.  Drew decided to go home to get a change of clothes and catch a little sleep.  I gave him my sign-on and password for my online message board community, asking him to post an urgent request for prayer.  My Dad, the computer guru, soon realized that his calling in this would be emailing everyone he could.  We gave him a list and he set off with Rhonda to start informing the world.

 Dr. McBride floated in and out, giving us periodic updates.  He would set his mouth in a grim line and be bluntly honest with his cautiously worded message – it’s not good, there hasn’t been much change, we aren’t optimistic.  We hung on his every word, but dreaded seeing him at the same time.  It was around noon on Wednesday that he first mentioned the possibility of sending her to Dallas for further treatment, if she didn’t improve very soon.

            The second time we got to see Charis; she opened her eyes and looked at us.  Oh what joy that little act brought to us. I obsessively watched the heart monitor.  Its rhythmic beeps punctuated by the various alarms that signaled something else that wasn’t quite right with her vitals or various IV’s and tubes.  Seeing my child lay on that bed, so desperately ill was a terribly helpless feeling.  I tried very hard to remain composed.  Since only two at a time were allowed to go see her, the rest of us would huddle in the hallway, waiting for any word at all, watching the faces of those coming out.  I had my turn to stand by her bed, stroke her arm, and whisper my love to her, while watching the monitor for some sign of normalcy.  She fluttered her eyes and tried to look at me, and moved her hand when I squeezed her fingers.  As I stood there just watching her, I reflected on her wish to someday be a model.  I thought she would be devastated at the scars that her body now bore.  Dr. McBride wandered through, and he again informed me that there had been very little change.

            Rhonda returned with Dad and Cody, and several of the other kids, just in time to go in for another visit.  I let everyone else go in ahead of me, and watched as they came out smiling.  She was awake and lifting her arms up for hugs.  One of the lasting pictures in my mind is my Dad bouncing out of the ICU unit pumping his arms in the air in celebration, with tears running down his face!  Oh how happy he looked.  When I went in to see her, and she lifted her arms up, what a sweet feeling that was.  She looked very tired, and her hug was nothing more than touching us on the back.  The strength was completely drained from her.  She could nod or shake her head feebly in response to our questions, and could give a halfhearted smile around the ventilator tube.  The nurse informed me that Charis had woken up confused and frightened and that she had told her what had happened.  On my way back to our small room, I saw my co-workers come down the hall loaded with food.  I hugged and hugged them, dissolving into tears on their shoulders.  They were a symbol of my “normal” life, and I wanted so desperately to be “normal” again.  Their love and concern showed in the thought put into what they brought.  A huge tray of a variety of sandwiches, several bags of chips and cookies, bottled waters, juice and sodas of all sorts.  They handed me an envelope with phone cards and money inside, along with notes from several people.  It was very apparent that everyone at Fort Worth Country Day School was thinking about us and praying for us.

The day wore on in a fog.  I was barely clinging to my composure.  I forced myself to eat a sandwich and drink enough to keep going.  I still hadn’t slept, and was exhausted.  The phone rang almost continually.  Charis’ principal called and talked to me about her condition.  I encouraged her to share the truth with the kids, knowing that false stories would proliferate faster than they could be corrected.  She preferred to come see Charis herself first.  Her plans were to stop at the hospital the next day.  My ex husband’s parents came in from Kansas.  Rhonda made a trip to Burger King for supper, and concerned friends began arriving.  Co-workers brought more bags of snacks and drinks, along with prayers and well wishes.  Our landlord, his wife and daughter in law came to see us, and prayed for us and Charis.  We hugged and held hands and prayed with many people that night.  Charis’ pediatrician even stopped to see me, and told me he had pulled her chart and looked over it for any sign of problems.  He was baffled by her condition.  Dr. McBride stopped for one last briefing.  He informed us that she hadn’t had much change, and that he had talked to some Doctors in Dallas, and was considering sending her there for further treatment.  If there weren’t significant improvement by noon the next day, then she would be sent on. 

            We got to see her one last time that evening.  She was quiet and resting.  She still opened her eyes and raised her arms for hugs.  She seemed to accept what was going on with dignity.  She didn’t fight, complain, or ask why.  The nurses told me that she rarely complained about pain, so they gave her pain medication based on how her vitals were at the time.  We stood quietly by her bed, stroked her forehead, said a prayer with her, and kissed her.  Then we quietly filed out, and made plans for the evening.  I was completely exhausted, so it was decided that I would go home and sleep.  We couldn’t bear the thought of no one being at the hospital, so Drew volunteered to stay there and sleep in our little consultation room that we had commandeered.  I felt like a stunned zombie as I followed Rhonda out to her vehicle.  She picked up her cell phone to call our older sister, Zoranda.  Rhonda chatted with Zoranda for a while, and brought her up to date on Charis’ condition.  Then Rhonda handed the phone to me.  As long as we talked about Charis, I held together fine.  Then, Zoranda asked me how I was doing.  I immediately started crying, and couldn’t talk, couldn’t even get any words out.  I was drained, physically and emotionally, and handed the phone back to Rhonda.      

I drove myself home from Rhonda’s house, again reliving the numbing fear of the past 24 hours.  I pulled into the driveway, and looked up at my dark, empty house.  How very lonely and terrified I felt at that moment.  Dragging myself out of the car, up the steps and into the silent house, I logged onto the computer and checked email and my message board, finding a huge amount of messages waiting.  The outpouring of love and support from so many family members and friends was overwhelming.  Sitting there and looking at that computer screen, tears rolled down my face; I thought of the many times I had so glibly promised someone I would pray for them.  Now, when I was hearing and seeing literally hundreds of people promise me the same thing, I clung to it.  Deep inside, I knew that the only thing that would see us through this was God.  The odds were too overwhelming.  I typed an email of thanks to a list of people, and left a message on the September Mommies board.  Exhaustion drove me to my bed around midnight. 

At 4:00 a.m., I woke up with a start.  I had slept deeply and soundly for four hours, and couldn’t go back to sleep.  All I could think of was getting back to see her.  I called the CVICU and spoke with a nurse, who informed me that nothing had changed.  I showered and ate something quickly, and left for Rhonda’s house around 6:00 a.m.   My phone was already ringing with people checking up on her.  We arrived at the hospital by 7:30 a.m., anxiously looking for Drew to see if he had heard anything.  He hadn’t seen a Doctor or her yet.  We got to go see her at 9:00 a.m., and she looked much the same.  She was reacting to us, hugging us, and signing to us.  She still had very bad coloring, and was swollen, and tired looking.  Doctor McBride came in to talk to us, and again was straightforward and cautious with his news.  She was holding her own, but not improving, they were talking to Doctors in Dallas.

Charis’ principal arrived just before 11:00 a.m.  We chatted for a few minutes, and then I invited her back to see her.  When Charis saw her, she immediately smiled and raised her arms for a hug.  Mrs. Wall was trying unsuccessfully to choke back tears.  She smiled through the tears dripping down her face, stroked Charis’ arm, and told her that everyone was praying for her.  Then I walked her out so others could visit with Charis.  I went back in for a few minutes, and Charis looked up at me and pointed to the door. 

After a little guesswork, I figured out she was talking about Mrs. Wall.  Then Charis made motions down her cheeks with her fingers, tears running down, crying.  Then she held her hands up with a questioning look.  “Why was Mrs. Wall crying?”  For the first time since this started, I cried in front of Charis.  Just a few tears slipped out and tumbled down, but there was a huge lump in my throat as I realized that Charis had no concept of how seriously, gravely ill she was.

The whole family was gathered together just before noon, when Dr. McBride and Dr. Linn both came in the room.  Everyone held their breath and turned to listen, the silence in the room heavy with fear and expectation.  Dr. McBride took a breath and shifted; Dr. Linn leaned against the doorway and watched.  “Well,” Dr McBride began “we’ve watched her over 24 hours, and there has been very little change.  We have done everything we can for her here”.  Then he went on to explain that arrangements were being made to fly her to Dallas where there was more technology available for her, adding including a heart transplant. 

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