Making a Difference

.
We were all looking forward to Easter. Charlie had run to get last-minute candy for the Easter baskets. Finishing breakfast, both of our children were running and laughing through the living room. Suddenly, Ken, our eight-year-old, burst into the den, where I was on the phone.
"Steph is acting really funny," he said.
"Yes, I know. I hear you laughing."
"No," he insisted, "There's something wrong."
I hung up the phone and walked quickly into the bedroom where five-year-old Stephanie was lying on the floor, unconscious, with a small amount of foam in the corners of her mouth. Unable to wake her, I told Ken to call 911 and I, nurse-mom, quickly assessed her condition. Though breathing with a steady pulse, her color was gray.
The ambulance arrived and took her to Children's Hospital. Shortly after entering the emergency room, she had a seizure. Within minutes, she stopped breathing. As the staff feverishly worked on her, my husband, Charlie, arrived.
The doctor pulled us aside and told us he had no explanation for Stephanie's condition but was very concerned because her status had changed so quickly. After routine questions regarding overall health status, history and access to poisons, they transported Stephanie for a CAT scan. In a state of shock, I could not believe how rapidly our lives had been turned upside down. An hour ago, we were eagerly looking forward to Easter, and now our world was crumbling around us.
Stephanie was taken to the intensive care unit, where she was placed on a ventilator, in a coma. They called in expert after expert. Each ran tests and then let us know they didn't know what was happening. While I hoped and prayed for answers, I was also relieved as they ruled out one serious explanation at a time.
We took turns at her bedside, making sure that someone was there at all times. After six days, there was no improvement. The doctors informed us that they believed she had viral encephalitis, and there was little they could do except provide supportive care. They also cautioned us that children with encephalitis often do not make a full recovery. If she did get better, we should brace ourselves for a child with severe disabilities. We were very discouraged yet hopeful for a miracle.
Later that evening, Stephanie began to move her feet and hands. By the following morning, she was breathing on her own, and the nurses detached the respirator. As I was washing her face, she suddenly put her arm around my neck and said my name. I thought I was dreaming and just stood there and stared.
From that day on, Stephanie showed steady improvement. With great courage, she approached her recovery with energy and humor. She never complained or asked "Why me?" She simply would ask, "What's next?"
We met with a series of rehabilitation specialists, who outlined a program for her to regain her strength and her skills.
After six months of daily care, we decided to take a break and go to Disney World.From the moment she entered the Magic Kingdom in a stroller, she was fascinated by a rocket-ship ride on top of a building. The faster the ride went around, the higher the rockets flew. She begged to take a spin, but the line was long, and in the heat, we knew we'd have to pace ourselves. Instead, we went on the Teacups. What a mistake! It seems like someone was always getting sick on the Teacups. Then we tried It's A Small World After All. We didn't know that once you heard that tune, you could never get it out of your head.
All Stephanie wanted was to ride that rocket ship, but we knew she couldn't tolerate waiting up to an hour in such heat. Finally, on the last day, right about closing, we saw that the line had all but disappeared. We ran over to the gate only to have a smiling attendant pull the chain across saying, "That's all for today. You come back and see Mickey tomorrow."
With tears in my eyes, I found myself explaining about our year - how Stephanie had been so sick, in a coma and had spent months working every day at recovery. I practically yelled, "You have to let her on this ride! This is the only one she really wanted to do."
The young attendant grinned, pulled the chain open and motioned us onto the platform. As the sun set and beautiful colors streaked across the sky, Stephanie and I climbed onboard the rockets. We were the only people on the ride, as throngs of visitors streamed out of the park. As the rocket began to go faster and faster, and climb higher in the sky, Stephanie laughed and screamed with joy.
At that instant, I knew she would be okay and our family would continue to recover together.
Just as the ride slowed, the attendant came on the loudspeaker, "That ride was from Mickey. Now, here is an extra ride for Stephanie from me." And he gave us an extra ride.
Now, if you were to ask happy, healthy Stephanie today what is the best thing that ever happened to her, she would say, "That extra ride at Disney World, because that one was just for me."
A small gesture from a stranger who magically made a difference in our lives.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I got this from Chicken Soup for the soul. It is not my composition. Just thought I wanna share this with you guys. Hope you guys enjoyed it... for I did.