Catherine, her mom and her dad, Joseph Daulton, are at a coffee house where Catherine (“Yep, I’m an addict”) is having her first fancy coffee since the accident. It’s the family’s seventh outing from Flagstaff Medical Center, which has become Catherine’s virtual home for the past two months. Her mom’s, too.
   She started the outings about 10 days ago, and has even been out to the Flagstaff Mall.
   Catherine’s favorite outing so far was going home to her own room and lying down on her own bed. Her excursions usually last about two hours before she returns to the hospital’s skilled nursing ward.
   She had café mochas before her car wreck, but an occupational therapist has suggested added flavors for her first trip for coffee.
   “I want a mocha with vanilla hazelnut flavoring, ” she tells her mother, who hustles to the counter to order.
   When a reporter points out to the girl that her mother couldn’t be offended if Catherine snapped her fingers at her for service because it would be like physical therapy, Catherine does so more than once. It only delights her parents, who watch her progress much like rapt parents of a toddler.
   Cynthia tests the drink to make sure it’s not too hot. Joseph Daulton holds the large coffee cup for his daughter, who uses a straw to avoid spilling.
   After the accident, she first opened her eyes Feb. 26, and by April 26 Catherine said her cousin’s name aloud. Today, she talks in sentences.
   Her speech is monotone and slightly slurred, and her left arm and hand still don’t have their full motor skills. Her balance is off and her left side is weak, so walking is something she hasn’t yet conquered.

MOVED TO TEARS
   But the difference between last week’s Catherine and the February/March Catherine is inspiring, bringing tears to the eyes of an outsider.
   Catherine’s eyes remain focused, she laughs at her own and other people’s jokes, and she determinedly corrects people around her who have said something that’s incorrect. When she wants a sip of coffee or water, she taps her father’s leg, and does the same when she wants more M&Ms.
   “It’s interesting, her tastes all remained the same,” says Cynthia.
   Catherine corrects her. “I used to like M&Ms. But now I love M&Ms,” Catherine notes, as Joe puts a handful in her lap.
   That reminds Cynthia of the day Catherine completed her first sentence.
   “She had been able to say a word at a time, but one day I said to her, ‘I’m really hungry,’ And she looked at me and said, ‘Don’t eat the food here. It’s nasty.’” She was eating only pureed food at the time.
   Cynthia laughs, relief flooding her face at the memory of the long three months and how far her daughter has come.
Catherine’s first written note was a winner, too.
   “An activity director was working with Catherine and said, ‘Would you like to write your mom a note?’” Cynthia recalls.
   Catherine grabbed the pen and wrote, ‘Mom, get me out of here,’ and then wrote it again. She grins and nods as her mother tells the story.
   But making progress comes from hard work. And it’s not as if she enjoys it any more than any teen would.
   “I don’t like therapy,” she says bluntly.
   No doubt. The girl is in either occupational therapy, physical therapy or speech from 8:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. five days a week, with only two hours off for lunch and breaks. She does P.T. on Saturday, and Sunday is her day to rest.
   She gets tired from the continual workout, but still she doesn’t sleep well at night.
   “That’s because I slept for two months!” she declares.

SETTING A GOAL
   Now in acute rehabilitation at FMC, Catherine’s goal is to walk out of the hospital by June 14.
   “We were told we had two months for her to get these therapies before she might come home,” her mother recalled. “When she heard that, she said, ‘I’m walking out of here in one month.’ That would be June 14. We’re going to let her do that if we can.”
   Originally, the Daultons hoped to send Catherine to Phoenix-based Barrow Neurological Institute, known for its excellent care of brain-injured patients. But because of her amazing progress and the theory of plenty of family and friends is helping her treatment, they’ve decided to keep her up north for now.
   The staff at FMC says they’re delighted with Catherine’s improvement, and credit much of it to her family.
   “She’s making outstanding progress. In cases of head injury or other catastrophic injuries, you never really know who’s going to do well and who’s not going to. From my perspective the thing that Catherine has is a supportive family,” says Roger Schuler, executive director of rehabilitation. “They’ve stuck with her, they’re committed to her. The therapies and nursing staff can only do so much. The family who knows her better than anyone can help her more than anyone.”
   Catherine’s family credits her.
   “Catherine’s very determined,” boasts the proud mother.
   Some of what Catherine has been through in the past three months is still foggy to her. She tells a reporter that in some cases, she’s not sure what really happened in her days of moving out of the coma. Much of it seems like a dream, she says.

FEELING OVERWHELMED
   There were a few days after she was out of the coma when the realization of how far she had to go overwhelmed her.
   “One day she hid under the pillows and wanted the lights out,” Cynthia recalls. “I let her do that. After all, we had all done our grieving. She needed to be left alone to do her own.”
   Catherine worked through it, though, and has set her mind on leaving the hospital next month and taking a trip to Hawaii with her mom and Sisters.
   Though she’s pleased with her recovery, Catherine says she has more she wants to accomplish.
   “I want to walk without a walker or cane. I want to talk normal,” says Catherine, who’s recovered her dolphin ring and other jewelry.
   “She finally asked for her dolphin ring back,” says her mom, who was happy to return it. For two months, she and Catherine’s sisters and friends wore pieces of Catherine’s jewelry, an attempt to have part of Catherine with them at all times as they prayed for her recovery.
   Her mind is obviously working well. She can recite people’s phone numbers, and at a recent outing to Route 66 Travel, where her old job awaits her, she had no trouble recalling her computer security code.
   Cynthia has been with Catherine almost every day since the accident, and she says that’s possible because of the generosity of her fellow workers. She’s an accountant at FMC, and dozens of other FMC employees have donated their personal annual leave hours to Cynthia so she could continue having a paycheck and still be with Catherine.
   “That has been an indescribable blessing for which I am ever grateful,” she says. “I hope someday I can do the same for someone in need.”
   She adds that hundreds of people have reached out to the Daultons, either offering their prayers, their time, or their good thoughts.
   Joseph is stunned by the miracle of his daughter’s recovery.
   “She has improved so much in the past three weeks,” he says. “Even though I see her every day, I still see a little improvement every day. There is no medical explanation for her recovery. We feel in the next few months, she’ll be 100 percent normal.”
   Cynthia agrees.
   “We’re in awe watching this miracle unfold,” she says.

Editor’s Note: Because of the interest in Catherine’s situation, a Web page has been set up. The address is www.primenetcom/~gshantz/catherine2.html.   http://www.oocities.org/gshantz7/catherine.html

A bank account has been set up by Cynthia’s co-workers to help defray the cost of Catherine’s expenses. The account is in Cynthia’s name at the Arizona Central Credit Union, Account no. 341061, 2521 N. West St, Flagstaff, Ariz. 86004.