Our guide came in, as me and the doctor stared each other down.  Portuguese words flying in the air. I was ready to pounce. I could have ripped his head off.

I waited as his side of the story was told.  I then told mine.

"I am this child's mother. I know she can feel me even though she can not speak for herself.  If this man puts his hands on me again; I will be not be accountable for my actions. Do you all understand me?"

I knew that my daugther knew I was there.  I knew this was not the worst to come but she knew I was fighting for her.  I would never let her die alone; I would always be there. She was in my heart and soul in ways I could not explain.

Though I knew my intent was understood; my guide calmly explained to my daughter's doctor that care in America was different. Parents and family were encouraged to fight for their family members in care of medical staff.

It is a difference of view; I saw this man look and realize that I would not bow to his incredible knowledge of social status.  I also to my guide to be sure to tell the doctor that, "if he put his hands on my: My military training as well as mother instinct would take over. I would not be held responsible for my action."

I seen the doctor stiffen but, I softened this with. "You may have been with patients for many years but you do not know what my daughter needs right now as far as contact. She needs to know I am here fighting with her.  And I do not want to fight with you."

It is Christmas day. I have a daughter in a coma in a hospital in a 3rd world country. We are living in a hotel with no car or money.  We decided to keep the holiday quiet from our four year old son. There would be no celebrating tonight.

I was fighting with her doctor about standards of care.  Where would we go from here?  We had to follow the hospital's rules of visitation.  Only a few hours a day were allowed at specified times.

I know another bleed is coming but have no scientific proof or way to tell them. Yet,  I know she will get better before our next journey into our family's path.

As we left for the day; I told my husband that something was going to happen.  I felt the doom of the upcoming event.  Yet, I prayed and asked him to do the same; as our guide drove us back to our hotel.

I was touching her body and singing to her.  When he walked up in his assume role of care-giver and tried to take my hands from her body.  What the HELL?  I was thinking, as I ignored him.  He then tried to push me away.

I understood his broken English; he wanted me to stop touching her. He wanted me out of the room because he felt that touching her would cause another bleed into her brain.  But, I knew she needed my touch and words to bring her back.  To give her a reason to fight.

He grabbed my hands again and tried to push them away from her.  That is when I, in all of my motherly might grabbed his coat labels and told him to stop.  I was bigger than him, I was going to rip him to shreds. I could have killed him. How could he tell me not to touch my daugther. (though I had not given birth to her, she was in my soul.)

He then again tried to remove me from the room with force.  He wanted me gone from her room. I then turned to him and said STOP.  "She is not dead or dying. And if you put your hands on me one more time I will hit you in ways that you remember."

The nurses were there watching this. I knew they were mothers I felt them wanting to help.  Then one went into the waiting room.  As I stared as the mini-man ready to pounce and way lay his authority.

Hubby comes out and I went in.  It was just after shift change.  I walked to my daughter after washing my hands.  She is ashened and I can smell her before I get to her bed.

I then look around to assess the room.  There are no other vistors. Nurses are busy and the ward is clean and quiet.  When I get to her bed; I touch her feet first through the blankets. I feel a stiffness that was not a good sign to me.  I walk up her bed to her left and see the tubes keeping her breathing.  Still in a coma,  I pick up her hand and feel nothing but her pulse so I walk around to the right side to check the urine bags and medicines.  I watch the screen of her monitors. 

I pick up her free hand and start talking.  Just about everyday stuff; not talking about anything of global importance.  I see a doctor out of the corner of my eye approaching and he is not happy.  I see his squat face tight with anger.  I know we are going to fight.  I felt his demeanor and knew I was in trouble.

I promised never to leave my daughter alone.  Portuguese hospitals have different rules for primary care of patients. Once a person needs care; they are at the mercy of the doctors. No exceptions.  Everyone just follows the word of the doctors and specialists.

This does not sit well with me. I am an educated person who questions everthing.  I am in a foreign country.  No money, some language skills and I see things that I find questionable. 

Patients in a coma need constant stimulation. From their family and friends but, we are not afforded that luxury.  I want our guide here.  I want to scream and shout.  I want my old life back with my daughter's smile and love.

Yet, I know I have broke a promise.

I have coins in my purse. I have my daughter in a foreign hospital.  It is Christmas Eve.  Where did everyone go?

I watch my guide drive us to the hospital. I know she is alive, afraid and alone. No one seems to notice this fact but me. I feel her slipping away yet; the men talk.

We pull up to the hospital and get out after checking Saenz for accidents. Somehow, I do not want to enter.  Our passports are in order.  We have a few snacks for Little Brother but I sensed this day was different.

We go in to this "large" hospital.  And I look around.  The parking lot is near empty because everyone is making ready for the holiday.

Our guide is with us with his cell phone.  Where is our safety net.  Just where are the Americans here?  I just want to shout:  DO YOU HEAR ME?  I AM AMERICAN? and alone without a safety net.

We find the ward in which our daughter is kept.  Only one parent is allowed in at a time.  She is in ICU.  Saenz was particularily whiney so, I stayed with him.  My husband when in as I tried to see my daughter in her bed.

I made up games and played with Saenz and we looked at Christmas decorations naming colors and shapes..  It felt like an enternity before my husband came out.  Then the door opened.

Today is my husband's birthday. But, I have to keep the celebration quiet from my son. His sister is in a hospital and comatose.

We speak about the mundane and decide not to celebrate because we have nothing. No money but a few coins.  Our daughter is alone in a Portuguese hospital. I just want him to get milk for his morning.  We walk to the elevators in silence to the "buffet" i.e. contential breakfast.

We fill his sippy cups and look for things to keep him occupied until our "guide" arrives to take us to our daughter.  I have a feeling of dread over her condition that I can not explain to my husband.  I just told him our life will forever change today.

I see our guide arrive and quietly I pack everything I could into my purse.  It is going to be a long day.

As I held her hand, I did not believe it was her time.  I washed my hands and went back to her bed.  I then picked up her left hand and breathed deeply.  It was there too.

I don't know if others reading here have ever experience this sensation.  She smelled like impending death.  It is a musky smell to the nose with the discounting of medicines.  The odor was pouring out of her pours.  So, I then leaned in close to her ear and whispered:

"I am with you.  I will get you back to your mom and family.  Just keep trying my girl because I know you are listening.  I do not give your permission to give up. You will not quit because I will never quit.  Just lay here and here.  I know you can hear me and I know you want to live.  Remember we all love you.  And happy 13th birthday my, baby girl.  Besides Saenz wants you to beat him up again. He is scared as I know you are.  Come back to us and we will get through this together.  I love you. Everyone loves you. Just hold on."

I told her that we were going for the night.  We would return in the morning; Christmas Eve to celebrate. 

I left my daughter in the care of the hospital on San Miguel. I knew she would not die that night. I walked out in faith.

I met my family minus one into the lobby.  Saenz was over-charged on the moment. My husband was lost in this event.  Luckily, we had our translator and we left the hospital to find our hotel.  We have nothing but what I have packed in our bags. Only two bags but they will do.

We stopped at the only place serving food which was a mall.  I allowed my son to run free because he was possessed with energy.  I knew he needed release.  I got him food and had him eat.  I could only drink a diet soda.  My hubby ate.  I asked our guide; "will you be with us tomorrow." Saenz was zinging around the food court.  And I waited to look around; I did not understand the language. 

Our guide said he will pick us up in the morning and we gathered up our son and left the only place that felt like home, America.

I was so spent by time we checked in that I was drunk on hope.  We went to our room and fell into bed.  I don't know if I slept but then again I must have. I put my head on my pillow and prayed after setting our wakeup call.

I know you are still with me baby girl.

We had a long journey.  We made our way through hospital security and up to the floor she was on and I took a breath.

I say my husband with an ashened sheen to his face but, he smiled when he saw us.  He took our son.  I was ready to walk into the ward where my daugther was kept.  It was quiet but noisey.  The nurses station was busy with a dimmed hum of activity and foreign language. I was lead to her bedside.

On the way, I looked around to see her environment.  I had training in evaluating hospitals. I looked at: the floors, windows, curtains, smells, spacing of patients, and general cleanliness of the environment. I was shocked that this might work in this third world country.  I assessed the patients there in their state of illness while walking to her bed.

I looked her over and walked around the bed in which she lay.  Satisified that all was sanitary; I picked up her hand while taking notes of the tubes keeping her life going.  I lifted her hand and put it to my nose.

I breathed in and smelled the odor of death.

Did I collapse here or move on in faith?

Each day I look out at the world from my own stomach. I am blessed with family. My heartsong are: children, family, passed experiences, and a voice of which I write about. 

I see peeps stuck in a rut that they have dug for themselves.  I see those who refuse to continue to learn and grow; thus die a death in my opinion of their own making. The culprit is  ignorance of the soul. 

When was the last time: you held a person with true love, laughed with honest joy, understood the journey of faith, watched how natures exists with abandon, reached outside of your comfort zone or just sat in harmony with life?

Many just pass through life with out feeling or truly experiencing the wonder of LIFE.

Do you live or just get by?

I left my car and keys behind. The life I knew. I kept checking my watch and just numb. How was my daughter?

So my son and I went to the International airport. We were dropped off; (my friends had family to take care of their own.) Emotions where kept in check and we walked away alone but, at the same time not alone.  My husband was at the hospital now with our daughter who probably still in a coma.  I bought my son some snacks and waiting the longest time of my life. I gave my son a toy as soon as we boarded the puddle jumper to San Miguel.

I felt lost and in a deep void. I left my daughter to bring my daughter life.  I know that sounds strange but it is the truth. I that moment and every one since I would do the same things in the same way.  My faith told me she would survive yet, I did not know what Our Creator had in store for our journey in our slice of heaven. So, I just held my son while mentally saying prayers for the little more than hour flight to the island where she was taken.

We arrived at San Miguel. The airport was silent. It was 9 pm and dark.  Saenz and I picked up our bags which the airlines kept in the storage area inside the flight attendents' closets.  We breezed through customs and walked into the calm and silent hall looking for our guide.

It felt like an eternity.  We again was just waiting alone in a foreign airport and my son was whiney from exhaustion. I made him a place on a bench.  He just laid his head on my purse for a pillow when I heard the door open.  I saw a man walking towards us and knew he was American just by his height and gait.

He walked to me and put our his hand and introduce himself and lead us outside as I carried my son. Off again to the hospital. Ever notice how long a journey takes when you are unaware of your path?

My friend's husband drives me to my office.  I have only 1 hour to leave my life behind. I put my signature on the documents. Send out two emails and jump back in my car.  It has been 5 hours that my son has been in the neighbor's care.  I call her; ask her to hold him until I get packed then I would pick him up.

How do you pack your life up in one hour? I grabbed every bit of financial information from my top drawer to include passports, check books, credit cards and such.  I ran up stairs and packed for my family in two bags.  (While I was running, my office was working the tickets.)

I had around 8 minutes I filled garbage bags with perishable foods that needed to be trashed. I fed our indestructable fish.  I looked around my home and knew I was not coming back. I am still worried yet numb over the faith of my daughter and husband.  I knocked on the neighbors door to pick up my son; and saw headlights coming for us.

I gave my neigbhor my keys and asked her to feed the fish.........

We sped away into the night for our tickets.

So I then asked the doctors if the altitude would cause a further bleed.  Then said no because of the helicopter's low flight plan.  I then asked which parent should go.  Millions of thoughts went through my head.

Then I remembered I was the military member. I had things to tie up because I might never return to my base. 

Okay---my husband should complete this leg of this journey. I had a few things for the Air Force to tie up before I could be free.

---I then made him promise DO NOT LEAVE HER! Talk to her, rub her hand move her body just let her know we were there. Just never let her be alone at anytime.

And he did.  This was the right thing for me to do but it ripped me to shreds inside. 

I WOULD NEVER LEAVE HER, remember?

I calmed myself; I was do the right thing for her (NOW).

Only a few hours had passed. I watched my husband get into his safety gear. My thoughts turned to my son.  I knew he was afraid.  I saw them load them both. The word was she had slipped into a coma which for this was a good thing.  I turn my head up to watch them lift off.

My dearest friend Dawn's husband was there to drive me back to the base.  At first he was silent and then he said, "You know she will never be the same if she survives."

I longed to hear another say what I was feeling.  And I turned to him and said; "Thanks, I know what you are saying.  I know she will be back. I also know she will never be the same.  I also know that you and Dawn will help me through this."

And we rode the 27 minutes into silence while He allowed me to use his cell phone to call family.  It was silent because of the time difference. 

I had to get in touch with her bio mom and brothers:

I get ahold of one my husband's extensive family. I tell them what I know & get in touch with Bio-Mom.  My daugher is dying but she is yelling at me.  I then tell her how to get international calls allowed on her phone service. Answer her questions and feel a new enemy with me.  Apathy.

In my compartmentalized head.  I am finishing up a thousand details. I need to go to my office and give passwords to my friend. (remember we are at war; paper work needs to be signed.)  I needed to sign Powers of Attorney all within minutes, Pack with our paperwork and Pick up our son; who is so scared by now he is losing his mind.

  I have only 1 hour.

The CASA child's charity auction will end in a few minutes. So far, 28 bids, 176 page views and 30 watchers. Bloggers are a wonderful family.  I am all excited.Thanks to all the bloggers who donated...............

Mystery Box 100% Charity Children's Items 19X20X14  300151201060

Please help support this charity auction by running the above link, bidding or watching!

Super thanks out to Dragonsfairy2* who started this auction out of love for a 1 month old baby girl that was brought into the hospital where she works; that wee one was diagnosed with Shakened Baby Syndrome. 

I never knew 20 minutes took so long.  The techs where wonderful. One had even brought me a soda.  I held her hand and we talked to her the whole way.  My beautiful daughter was not here and I felt it to my very core.  But, I knew I was not alone.

I climbed down from the ambulance and walked into the foreign hospital after the gurney.  The Portuguese do no believe in allowing family members to follow them.  But, I insisted and went anyway.  I held her hand and talked to her. 

Then they ushered me out to do a cath.  They literally pushed me out of the room and I was in complete agony during the ten minutes they took.  (Then in my head I said enough is enough.) I WILL NOT LEAVE HER ALONE AGAIN!

Through the next tests; I would not let them usher me out.  I let the staff know that even though I did not speak their language I was a force.  I was there; I sat with her in a hospital room that smelled awful to me. While I waited for the results I prayed.  This was a child not of my body but, I knew her.

We laughed and joked over her dad's uncomfortability of her becoming a woman.  This was a child that had been in my care for over 8 years and she was mine.

Dad shows up with my supervisor.  We are awaiting the results of the MRI.  I look at my guilty supervisor who is trying to garner my respect with a fake facade.  "I knew he was guilty of being complacent and he knew I knew." His inaction could have cost my child's life.

On her chest to feel her heartbeat. Then after feeling the strength; I knew she was fighting. I aslo made up my mind not to get into a verbal arguement with the supervisor that I wanted to wiped the floor with.  So, I listened to all the chatter.  I knew in my mother's heart my daughter would never be the same.

I looked my husband and felt his hopelessness.  But, knew our daughter would live: not the same but breathing.  She had a bleed in to her head kind of like a stroke but different she was only 13 and young.  I asked him about our 4 year old to find he was with our neighbors.

I really looked at the hospital.  I mean really looked and was appalled. I was back in the turn of the century settings.  How did this people live with this?

This was when I knew...................................They had to!

Into the waiting room to again see my supervisor. To whom I wanted to throttle with all of my strength but did not. I would need him later. I was still subordinate to him and dependent of his words and deeds.

I grabbed my husbands hands and said, "Have faith. She is not gone." Then we waited and made small talk.  I then asked those who came to be with us if we could borrow their Euros. Don't ask me why but, I knew we would need them.  "Please we will give it all back just trust me."

So pockets were emptied.  Then the doctor walked in and told us that she need to be transported.  A helicopter was on its way from San Miguel, Portugal.  She needed care from care from "brain" experts.  And the room went silent.

Mind you---we had translators with us. The Air Base provided.

Five years back; my daughter (step) called me at work; screaming and incoherent. She could not make a complete sentence and was sobbing.  She was frightened and in pain. The sounds of her fright brought me to my knees and proverbial senses. My then supervisor did not believe me and my request to return home.  I left him there in the office and asked him to call 911.

Upon returning to my home: my daughter was on the floor convulsing.  My then 4 year old son was sitting on a stool just two feet away.  She was throwing up hot chocolate while I was calling the ambulance.  I kept watch on her while talking to the dispatcher (my son was twitching from not understanding) and my daughter was still vomiting.  I checked her airway and cleaned the mess holding her head from the twitching.

During the time it took to call EMS. I managed to change out of my uniform, call my husband, contact neighbors, comfort my son and keep her airway clear. Don't ask me how but I did it.  I just did what I needed to do.

EMS arrived and found me holding her.  They were strapping her in when another seizure struck.  It was awful! Her entire body convulsed and tighted in ways I did not know were possible.  I then placed my son in my neighbors care; he was ashened when I told him Daddy would soon arrived.  I just looked around my home and knew my life was forever changed.

Now when you are in an ambulance certain things you notice.  The smallness of the vehicle, spareness yet it feels safe.  In the sterile environment; I offered a prayer up; please let her live. It was her 13th birthday and we were going to have T-bone steaks, baked potatoes and chocolate ice cream for dinner.

I saw her face and knew that was never to be.  As the ambulance pulled away I saw my husband's car coming and pass us.  Then techs were starting another IV. In my mind I knew that I had to be there for her. So, I rode silently then holding her hand just calling her name over and over.

So, we pull up to the hospital/clinic.  I watched them unload her.  While they secured their equipment; I took a breath.  In Portugal, life is not as it is here in the States but very similiar.  I noticed in the distant gray sky there was a rainbow.  Clinking and clanging noises; her hand still in mine I saw a dragonfly lifting up.  Then we raced into the building.

Where they cut her clothes off of her.  I tried to keep her covered as techs rushed about because I knew she was there.  I would not let go of her hand or stop saying her name. She was silent and still.  Nothing absolutely nothing.  Inside; she went into the xray room and I stayed.  I would not leave her. 

After xrays, I am in the room alone with her.  I am stroking her hand talking about how she wanted her steak.  Then the door opens; and my husbands leads my son in with him.  He is livid and wants to know what is happening.

Mother instinct kicks in: "why did you bring him?"  My littlest man did not need to see this. I asked my husband to take my son back to the neighbors.  Besides my daugher was naked and vulnerable.  She would never allow her  brother to see her this way. I convinced him to take him out.  And waited for the results of the xray and MRI.

She needs to be transferred to downtown.  I asked my husband to make arrangements for my 4 year old to stay at the neighbors for the night.  She is breathing on her own and the medication has caused the seizures to stop.  He leaves after I hug them both.  Then I wait while holding her hand and talking to her about NOTHING but still talking.

Mind you in the military community your supervisor should by now been there.  It has been an hour.  But, I digress as I watch them prep her from transport.  She has tubes everywhere; I am numb but alive.  What did just happen?  Why? I ask myself.............

There is no reason to life and I watch them roll her out to the transport.  Where is my supervisor?

Every child is a gift!  Think about it. Inside every woman and man is the answer to finding the key to a better life.  With each child comes a responsibility to the world: wonder and discovery.  What would have happened if a child's caregiver had inadvertently killed the greatest minds of our time by abusing them: Albert Einstein, John F. Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln by shaking them to death in their infancy?

Any whos its!  I need help:

The CASA child's charity auction has started. So far, 28 bids, 132 page views and 20 watchers. Bloggers are a wonderful family.  I am all excited.Thanks to all the bloggers who donated...............

Mystery Box 100% Charity Children's Items 19X20X14  300151201060

Please help support this charity auction by running the above link, bidding or watching!

Super thanks out to Dragonsfairy2* who started this auction out of love for a 1 month old baby girl that was brought into the hospital where she works; that wee one was diagnosed with Shakened Baby Syndrome. 

Isn't it strange how a person you have never met or wrote to can make a difference in your life? Kat and Boddhi; you have both been in my heart again today. I hope all is well this is my ode: 

Boddhi, My Shade

September 1, 2007, written by Nekkid Chicken

People often look yet choose not to see

Ears do so listen but won’t hear

Fingers reach and don’t feel

Hearts beat without a song

Each day that passes like a rain drop

In a soul’s storm of life

How long before the bucket is full

And flows no more

This blog is for Kat and her son Boddhi (Jason) who has Stage 4 Glio (brain tumor). I've thought of you all day & wanted to tell others of his "face."  Boddhi is a lovely talented artist, father, that is living with a brain tumor.  I told Kat, that his artwork to me is his "face" since I have never met him.  I feel moved each time I see and interpret his flight with his condition and pain. 

Love, Hugs and Kisses,

Nekkid Chicken

This writing reminds me of Boddhi:

"FACE" 

 by Khahlil Gilbran

A look which reveals inward stress adds more beauty to the face,

not mattter how tragedy and pain it bespeaks;

but the face which, in silence,

does not announce hidden mysteries--is not beautiful,

regardless of the symmetry of its features.  The cup does not entice our lips

unless the wine's color is seen through the transparent crystal.

http://blogs.ebay.com/mixednut555/entry/Something-Beautiful-on-a-lighter-note/_W0QQcommentsyncidZ0QQidZ283884013

This blog is for Kat and her son Boddhi (Jason) who has Stage 4 Glio (brain tumor). I've thought of you all day & wanted to tell others of his "face."  Boddhi is a lovely talented artist, father, that is living with a brain tumor.  I told Kat, that his artwork to me is his "face" since I have never met him.  I feel moved each time I see and interpert his flight with his condition and pain. 

Love, Hugs and Kisses,

Nekkid Chicken

This writing reminds me of Boddhi:

"FACE" 

 by Khahlil Gilbran

A look which reveals inward stress adds more beauty to the face,

not mattter how tragedy and pain it bespeaks;

but the face which, in silence,

does not announce hidden mysteries--is not beautiful,

regardless of the symmetry of its features.  The cup does not entice our lips

unless the wine's color is seen through the transparent crystal.

http://blogs.ebay.com/mixednut555/entry/Something-Beautiful-on-a-lighter-note/_W0QQcommentsyncidZ0QQidZ283884013