Update from David, Tuesday, May 20, 10:21 a.m.

Dear Friends,

Most young teenage girls that I have ever known spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror; combing tangles, worrying about split ends, making sure that their lip gloss isn't crooked and no brow is out of place. After all, beauty is around the eyes of the beheld. Melissa was no different. There would be no public appearance for her without all that primping and preening.

Children's hospital has done a good job of making an otherwise sad and gloomy place as bright and light as possible with bright sky blue and cream colored walls. But, there is only so much a hospital can do. Mildred, Melodie and Erin have added to the walls their hand crafted multi-colored craft paper daisies, hung from the ceiling with string. Stars, butterflies and intertwined paper chains adorn the glass pane of the sterile fluorescent light above the bed. Big handwritten posters from well wishers are taped to the walls along with collages of high school and church friends and large pictures of Melissa with big brother and sisters. While it's not home, it will be her room for at least the next three and a half months.

There are still a few tubes and wires necessarily inserted into Melissa. Monitors still abound. She can breathe on her own, most of the time, and a feeding tube continues to provide nutrition. Although awake, there has been no movement in her arms and legs for the last two weeks. Her eyes mostly stare unfocused seemingly in a bored daze. Her only response has been the long blink of "yes" or no blink for "no." Michael and Marlene have full conversations with this primitive form of language.

Last week Marlene noticed something quite disturbing. Melissa was a little more active and looked up at the ceiling, past the colorful stars and butterflies. She looked directly at the pane of glass above her, and caught a glimpse of something she did not like: herself - emaciated, tubed, hair shorn nearly bald. At that instant, Marlene says, Melissa's mood changed. She stopped trying. After that her arms and legs stopped moving. Her eyes were more dazed than focused. She did not want to see anyone. Although her vital signs were fairly normal, her voluntary functions began to regress.

Last Saturday some young friends came to visit Melissa in spite of her objection. Girlish chatter and laughter filled the room. Talk of boys and gossip about school brought merriment. There was no ability to apologize for her looks, as if she needed to. Her eyes focused with recognition and participation. Her right arm moved a few inches. She was once again connected to her friends and a little part of the world she has not seen for the past 89 days.

Sunday, the next day, Melissa continued to focus her eyes on visitors. Blink in response to her conversant’s questions. Her spirit has rebounded, and she is once again fighting her way back, making progress that is measured in inches rather than miles.

Last evening, Michael was talking to her about her friends’ visit. A little tear appeared in the corner of her eye. "Look," Michael exclaimed, "Marlene, Look! she has a tear for her 'beh-bAH'."

David