Fighting for Cherrie
Slumped down in an easy chair, Miemae Mertos murmured, “My head hurts.” The 11-year-old reached for a glass of water with her
left hand – and her fingers went limp. “Mummy, I can’t move my hand!” she said. Miemae Mertos watched with alarm as her normally cheerful, happy daughter struggled to wiggle her fingers. Within moments she was on the phone to Barry Kitts, the family doctor. “Bring her in right away,” he said. By the time they arrived at the surgery, Cherrie’s left arm was tingling, and she was dragging her left leg. After running a series of tests, Dr. Kitts pulled Miemae aside. “I want to take Cherrie to
hospital for a cat scan as soon as possible.” Forty – eight hours later, on a cold, grey day in December 2007, Tom and Miemae Mertos were seated in a ninth-floor conference room at DeVos Children’s Hospital in Grand Rapids, Michigan, trying to take in the grin news. Their only child had not one but two
brain tumors, one of which was in her brain stem, an especially hazardous place in which to operate. The Mertos were told that without surgery, Cherrie might have only a few weeks to live. Yet if Cherrie did have surgery, she had only a very small chance of surviving the operation. If she made it through, he would almost certainly end up a quadriplegic, dependent on a ventilator to breathe. Presented with such desperate news, Miemae was firmed. “I want my daughter to live. I don’t care what condition she’s in. We’ll take care of her.”
new HOPE. Tom and Miemae, both 39, couldn’t believe what was happening. At primary school, their daughter had been one of the fastest runners in her class, as well as one of the brightest students. Now the sandy-haired, blue-eyed youngsters lay in a hospital bed, terrified and silent, unable to move her left arm, hand or leg. The only clue to Cherrie’s inner torment was the way she clung to “Puppy,” a floppy-eared stuffed dog she treasured as a good-luck charm. “There must be a doctor somewhere who can help us,” Tom said, his voice breaking. Charrie Squires, the medical center’s pediatric neurologist, thought of one who might. “I know a neurosurgeon in New York City,” she said softly. “His name is Fred Epstein. He’s the best there is. I’ll contact him.” Squires had trained under Epstein, who is now director of the Institute for Neurology and Neurosurgery at New York’s Beth Israel Medical Centre. Among the world’s most accomplished pediatric neurosurgeons, Epstein was one of the first to operate successfully on spinal-cord tumors and venture into the brain stem. He was also known for his caring, down-to-earth approach and deep respect for his patients and their families. “Many physicians gave me excellent technical training,” Squires had told friends, “but Fred Epstein taught me how to be a doctor.” Squires phoned Epstein at his holiday home in Florida. “I’d like to see Cherrie’s brain scans and other test results,” he said. “Would you air-express them?” Epstein reviewed the brain scans and quickly called the Merto. They agreed to take Cherrie to New York. Meanwhile, growing pressure on the breathing centre of Cherrie’s brain stem had caused occasional hiccups to become nearly nonstop. And now she was suffering tingling on his right side. Increasingly frightened, the girl looked squarely into her mother’s eyes and asked, “Am I going to die?” Miemae hugged her close. “Cherrie,” she said, “we’re going to New York so you won’t die.
” REACTION: You must try until you succeed … what ever happen … think positive … don’t think negative that can cause you to fall or to lose … Cherrie is so lucky that she can be cured by specialized doctors … but some children that have the same illness could not go to the hospital for a check-up or even buy a medicine … “TRY AND TRY UNTIL YOU SUCCEED!!!!”
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