Praying for a miracle
Spending the better part of every day at her comatose daughter Catherine's side at Flagstaff Medical Center has become the routine for Cynthia Daulton, above, who, with dozens of family members and friends, projects an atmosphere of love and a positive attitude to help Catherine heal. However, the strain of the two-month ordeal sometimes surfaces, right. "We have our bad days," says Joy Lunsford, Catherine's sister, "but most of all we have faith." 

 Coma still has loose grip on injured girl

By MARY TOLAN
Sun Staff Reporter

   The doctors thought comatose Catherine Daulton, 17, was doomed to a life in a nursing home.
   Her family was praying for a miracle.
   Two months after another car careened into the car she rode in, Catherine is slowly moving from a deep coma to a coma stupor — a state that, while still debilitating, allows her to show minuscule, but significant signs of recovery.
   "Within 24 hours of the accident I knew medically speaking there was no hope for Catherine," said Joseph Daulton, Catherine's father. "But I think love is a very, very positive force. Catherine is surrounded by love and family and prayer."

    "God is the healer. We're hoping for a miracle," added Cynthia Daulton, Catherine's mother.
   They also hope to have their daughter transferred from the Flagstaff Medical Center to Barrow Neurological Institute, known for its excellent care of brain-injured patients.
   Before that happens, they have to prove that Catherine is doing well enough to get into Barrow and that the Phoenix-based neurological center at St. Joseph's Hospital can offer Catherine what FMC can't.
   Cynthia Daulton is with her youngest daughter 10 to 12 hours every day.
(See COMA, Page 8)

 
Pete Scanlon/Arizona Daily Sun

COMA
From Page 1
   Dozens of others are there, too, sitting with Catherine, talking with her, reading, praying, or just stopping by with Tupperware containers of home-cooked meals.
   It was Friday the 13th of February when Catherine and close friend Amber Hawkes, 18, both Flagstaff home-schoolers, were in Tucson for a church conference. Amber was driving her mother's Plymouth. Tucson resident Theodore Roosevelt Preston Jr., 70, was behind the wheel and driving about 60 mph when he crashed his '92 Cadillac into the Plymouth. The officer on the scene reported that Preston showed signs and symptoms of being intoxicated. The Tucson Police Department report classifies the accident as a driver-under-the-influence incident or crime.
   Amber suffered a broken pelvis, damaged liver and kidney. She's now up and walking, and visits Catherine every day.
   Catherine is on the prayer list of almost every Flagstaff church "I've run into people from all denominations who tell me that their church is praying for Catherine," Cynthia said. "We appreciate that. We appreciate all the people in this community who have been there to support us."
   While Catherine's family, of Flagstaff Tabernacle Church, are praying for a miracle, they're also realists. And they want to see Catherine transferred to Barrow, known for its superior care of brain-injured patients. It's a place where, ironically, she would have ended up after the accident had she been in less serious condition or had she been hurt in Flagstaff. Her family said that because the University Medical Center personnel assumed Catherine would make little progress and prognosis was, at best, a lifetime in a nursing home, she was never sent to the premier hospital for brain injuries.
   "The doctors didn't expect her to come out of coma state at all. At the University Medical Center they told us she would go into skilled nursing care and prepared us for the reality that Catherine would be in a nursing home for the rest of her life. They never even considered sending her to Barrow," Cynthia said. "And if Catherine's accident had happened here (in Flagstaff) she would have been aerovacked to Barrow because FMC does not have a rehab center that specializes in brain injuries."
   She said the two weeks while her daughter lay in the Tucson hospital bed, tubes running in and out of her body, were the worst. 
   The hardest part to go through was in the beginning. At the U of A Medical Center, it was always 'If Catherine gets better.' They didn't see her as someone who would ever recover. But when we finally brought her up to Flagstaff Medical Center it became, 'When Catherine gets better.' The staff here has been very caring." 
   For the family, there have been frustrations like that, including a time when they thought their Catherine's care would only be covered for 120 days by the HMO that insured them. But Catherine's extended care has been approved by Arizona Health Cost Containment System, the state's equivalent of Medicare. Still, there are issues with coverage, types of care, and holding off on switching care until Catherine's ready for the next stage. 
    The family's insurance company will pay for 60 days of skilled nursing — which Catherine started Feb. 20 — and 60 days of rehabilitation, which the family wants her to get at Barrow. 
  "We want to guard her 60 rehab days until she can benefit the most from that treatment at 
Barrow," explained Cynthia. "The longer we 
  
Pete Scanlon/Arizona Daily Sun 
Flagstaff Medical Center physical therapist Crain Taber, left, and physical therapy technician Danette Otzen go through Catherine's daily workout in the Rehab Gym at Flagstaff Medical Center. Physical rehabilitation takes up most of her morning as well as most of her energy, requiring prolonged naps into the late afternoon. 
  
keep her at the skilled nursing level, the more we can work with her in order to get her into Barrow."
   Before Barrow will accept a patient, that person must be able to withstand three hours of rehabilitation a day. Those hours need not be consecutive.
   "As a family unit, we're trying to do everything we can to help Catherine's progress, and at the same time work within the insurance constraints," she said. Cynthia traveled to all the state's brain injury treatment centers shortly after Catherine's accident, and chose Barrow as the place she wanted her daughter to be.
   "Barrow is the cream of the crop. It's where every parent would want their child to go if this happened to them," she said. "But in order for our insurance company to pay for Barrow, we have to show that Catherine can get from Barrow what she can't get from the Flagstaff Medical Center."
   Cynthia is quick to point out the level of care at FMC has been high. But she says that because FMC's treatment is generalized and does not specialize in brain rehabilitation, she wants her daughter at Barrow. 
   For Cynthia, there's an added twist to all this. That's because she works in the FMC accounting department, and spends much of her job helping, people with issues regarding insurance coverage. "This is the first time I've been on things from this side," she said. 
   To the newcomer, Catherine's coma appears so deep that the chance of recovery appears slight. But a closer look reveals a different picture. One day last week, as about a dozen relatives and church members sat around Catherine in the third-floor visiting room that has been virtually taken over by the Daultons, one aunt prodded the girl to action. 
   "Now look at Grandpa. Wave to Grandpa," said an energetic Alberta Shantz. Catherine, whose eyes were barely open, and who does not yet speak, raised her left hand ever so slightly. As the room became hushed, two fingers slowly raised up, a motion that may have been missed if she hadn't had the rapt attention of so many watchful eyes. The room changed from sanctuary to stadium as cheers erupted. 
   "She did it. She did it!" 
   "Nice job, Catherine!" 
   Any change is a significant one to the Daultons. 
   "In order to get into Barrow, she also has to be able to follow commands," explained Cynthia. "We're trying to work with her so she responds. As you can see, it's working."		  
Pete Scanlon/Arizona Daily Sun
One in a never-ending string of visitors, Catherine's Aunt Mary Daulton, left, shares a quiet moment with her niece. Moments later the pair resumed the grueling regimen of "range of motion" exercises, helping restore flexibility to Catherine's joints, some of which have locked as a result of her injuries.
 
       They're also trying aroma therapy, during which they put various items under Catherine's nose as one way to stimulate her brain. They also read aloud to her, give her hand and feet massages, play Agatha Christie books on tape, and just hang out and talk. There is a set schedule of visitors and a core group of about a dozen people that come every day, as well as about 30 others that come every few days or once a week.
   Catherine's hospital room has little wall space left. Cards, posters, notes, pictures, cut-out hearts, messages of love and prayers crowd almost every inch of the walls.
   On the ceiling above her bed is a poster of dolphins, Catherine's favorite animal. It came from her room at home, along with several dolphin figurines and Mickey Mouses. Cynthia looks forward to the day when Catherine will open up her eyes and see the familiar poster. A hand-made sign behind her bed says, "Expect a miracle."
   Cynthia said that in light of the Easter weekend, miracles are on the minds of the Daulton family.
   As people sat and talked together, they focused on Catherine.
   "Catherine always had to be the different one," said her older sister, Joy Lundsford, 26. "It's hard to see her this way. She's so full of personality.
   Joy and her other sister, Neta Bess Loveall, 19, laughed about their sister's favorite skirt, a polyester brown and lime-green number she bought for Halloween. "We gave her so much grief about that skirt that she started wearing it all the time," Joy said. "Then, we would come home and go into her closet and get it and put it on and tease her saying, 'I'm Catherine. I'm Catherine.'"
   Joy also recalled Catherine rolling curlers in her long hair, putting on their mother's bathrobe with pillows inside it, and walking around the house pretending she was Cynthia - as the family cracked up in laughter. Pictures plastering her hospital room wall include several in which Catherine is clowning for the camera.
   Other people who know Catherine call her stubborn, shy, diligent and very empathetic. "Cat is very sensitive to people's hurts and pains," said Joanna Ignace, Catherine's boss at Route 66 Travel, where Catherine worked part-time between her home-school correspondent classes.
   One of the biggest trips Catherine had booked was a Mexican cruise for her grandmother, mother, sister Neta Bess, and herself. They were to go during spring break, just shy of a month after the accident.
   For Cynthia, Catherine's accident has brought home the frailty of life. "The phone call we got that night is the one that every parent does not want to get. The phone rang and, I expected it to be Catherine, telling us she'd arrived safely. The what-ifs and if-onlys don't do anybody any good. But after something like this you realize you just have to seize the moment. Everybody always tells you life can change that quick," she said, snapping her fingers. "We don't always appreciate one another. Especially our families we take for granted. But life can change in an instant. One moment Catherine was right here, talking about going to Tucson And the next moment the phone was ringing."
   "When we finally got through to the doctor in Tucson and asked him about Catherine, he said 'You'd better pray,"' recalled Joseph Daulton. "It's not often a doctor tells you that."
 
Friend spared, wonders why
 
By MARY TOLAN 
Sun Staff Reporter 

   Some days, Amber Hawkes wonders why she's OK and her best friend's not. 
   "She and I were no better than each other. Why did I come out of it and my best friend's in a coma?" she asked. 
   Amber was driving the car hit by a reportedly drunk driver in Tucson Feb. 13. She suffered a broken pelvis, and damaged kidney and spleen. But she's walking now, and working part-time at the travel agency where her best friend Catherine Daulton Worked. The two were also taking a correspondence classes in a religious home-school high school together. 
   Catherine lies in a bed at Flagstaff Medical Center, in a stuporous coma, as family and friends hope for a miracle. 
   "It's hard, really hard," Amber said. "But I have to accept it and go on. Everything happens for a reason. When Cat wakes up and I can talk to her, it will all be OK," 
   Friends for several years, the accident has of course affected both families. 

    Penny Hawkes, Amber's mother, said she was worried after the accident that Catherine's family would be upset with Amber and Amber's family. 
  "I wondered if they would be angry with us and if this would put something between us," Penny said. "But they weren't. It's drawn us closer." 
   A growing collection of Beanie Babies and small dolls fill the shelf over Catherine's hospital bed and a nearby table. 
That collection grows because Amber's father brings one to Catherine every day. 
"Cat was like one of my sisters always at the house. She was like another daughter to him," Amber explained. " He brings her a stuffed animal or doll every day to help him feel better about all this. He goes over there every night and puts her to sleep. He wants to make sure she's relaxed before she goes to sleep." 
Amber said one of the tough parts is that the person she really needs to talk about the accident is Catherine. 
"I really miss her. We were together every day," she said. "I always told my best friend a lot. We went through the accident together. I just want us to come out of it together."