On the surface, there is right and wrong, black and white, and all questions are easily answered with "yes" and "no."
There is a mother, a father and their children.
Untie the ribbons binding this neat family package and complicated questions emerge for superior court judges, psychologists, doctors, lawyers and specialists.
A 13-year-old girl used Mother's Day to seek forgiveness, promise to behave and reassure her mom that she loved her. The handwritten card she gave her mother stood in stark contrast to what police said she did two weeks later.
When President Obama announced his support for gay marriage, supporters and pundits declared it symbolic of a historic shift in American attitudes. But as the attention fades, the fact remains that voters in 31 states have rejected gay marriage and more are lining up to do so.
When President Obama announced his support for gay marriage, supporters and pundits declared it symbolic of a historic shift in American attitudes. But as the attention fades, the fact remains that voters in 31 states have rejected gay marriage and more are lining up to do so.
There's Abbie Cohen Dorn looking wide-eyed at her mother, Susan Cohen, one Thursday morning in Myrtle Beach. Susan leans in, telling her 34-year-old daughter a judge across the country gave them what they wanted.
"He said we can fight for visitation, little bug," Susan says softly before kissing Abbie gently on the forehead. "I've missed you. Mommy missed you more than you know."
Abbie's brow softens with each whispered word. They lock eyes and freeze in a stare until Abbie's therapist pulls on her right arm.
On behalf of Abbie, the Cohens are tangled in a legal battle with Abbie's former husband for visitation of the couple's 3-year-old triplets, a girl, Esti, and boys Reuvi and Yossi. The children live in Los Angeles with Dan Dorn. Dan Dorn's case centers on a 2007 neurological report that said Abbie is in a permanent vegetative state. He contends she can't decide whether or not she wants to see her children. His legal team has said the visitation issue raised by the Cohens is an attempt to establish visitation rights for grandparents in a state that does not allow it. In court papers, Dan Dorn said he has not told the children about their mother nor what happened to her.
What happened to Abbie began on June 20, 2006, during the delivery of her triplets at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. Two children were born without incident, but her uterus was cut during a cesareansection as the third child was being born. She lost blood, had to be revived, went into a coma, her brain swelled, and she suffered brain damage.
A year later, while Abbie was in a rehabilitation facility, Dan told his in-laws he was giving up on the marriage. The Cohens acted on behalf of their daughter in the divorce proceedings and a malpractice suit.
Struggle to be seen
Both families - Dan Dorn and the Cohens on behalf of Abbie - received a malpractice settlement. Susan said they are not allowed to discuss the actual amount, but she said it is less than the $8 million repeatedly reported. She said the settlement money was divvied up with the attorneys getting $2 million; Susan and her husband, Dr. Paul Cohen, established a trust to be used only for Abbie's care; and Dan received the remaining portion of the settlement. Susan said Dan's settlement money is "more than a person with a master's degree in social work working for the state of South Carolina would make in a lifetime."
After the botched delivery, Dan said, "I was hopeful until 11 or 12 months, because all studies show that your chances of recovery or getting better are slim to none after that point."
But when a year had passed, the neurosurgeon told him that Abbie "has not 'been there' since Day One," Dan said. "I was 31 years of age, with three 1-year-olds, and I wanted to start rebuilding my life."
About 17 months after the triplets were born, the Cohens, who had moved to California to care for Abbie, packed up and moved their daughter back home near Briarcliffe Acres.
"She wasn't improving out there," Susan explained while walking around her neighborhood. "I knew we could get her the care she needed here. He wasn't bringing the children by anymore, and she wasn't getting better. There was no reason for us to stay there. The last time he saw her, with the kids, she was different. She was in pain, contracted. That was 2007. She's better now. She's getting better. She's getting the care she needs here."
Now, Susan said, they are looking forward to a May 13 hearing in California. She said a judge ruled that it didn't matter what condition Abbie is in - vegetative or not - since her rights as a parent are not limited by her limitations. But given the limitations, the judge said it is appropriate for the Cohens to act on her behalf. Susan expects that hearing to center on the findings of child psychologists and minor's counsel. She said Dan is tying his home into the visitation issue as child support.
"I've told him, his lawyer, we don't care about the house. He can have it. He has it. He can keep it. They think we want the house. We don't care," she said with a weary smile. "That's where they lived, he and Abbie. He still lives there with the children. It is their home. It's frustrating. We don't care about the house. We want Abbie to be able to see her children. That's all we care about. He can have the house, it's not relevant. We're hoping to get beyond the house and on to the visitation."
Susan's trip to California in late April marked the first time she had seen the children since the move back to South Carolina in 2007. She said she approached Dan in the courtroom, but the conversation was blocked by his attorney. But she stopped by the home on her way out of town, arriving at 8 a.m. just as Dan would be taking the children to school. He invited her in, let the children meet her and they all spent some time together inside a fenced-in backyard.
"They asked who I was," she said. "Dan had asked that we not talk about Abbie so I just told them I am their grandmother and I had gifts for them. I made these pillowcases, giant pillowcases with decorations for them. I thought they could use them to put stuff in or whatever they wanted. Of course, they immediately jumped in them and started jumping around all over the backyard."
Privately, she also gave Dan current photographs of Abbie so he could begin the process of introducing his children to their mother.
Susan said Dan allows her husband to visit every few months. He explains he is their grandfather, but he does not mention Abbie or that he is the father of their mother. "It's Dan's rules," Susan explained. "He's trying, I believe, to be a good father. I've always said he's a good father. He loves his children. I would never say anything bad about him as a father, but I think he is wrong on some things."
Susan said one of the boys, Yossi, had asked Dan once about his mother while Dr. Cohen was visiting. She said Yossi was distracted by something and "ran off to play before anyone could say anything. That's the only time I know of that the children have ever asked about Abbie."
Meanwhile, Abbie's room in Myrtle Beach is decorated with photographs of the triplets, her family and signs of her Orthodox Jewish faith.
A painting across from Abbie's bed portrays a healthy, happy Abbie with the children, walking through dunes toward the outstretched arms of her kneeling husband. But, Susan said softly as Abbie's eyes closed nearby, she had to get the painting altered when she noticed it was upsetting Abbie. The kneeling wide-open arms of the man remained, but his face was changed to look more like Abbie's brother, Yaakov Cohen.
"She likes it better now," Susan said. "It looks like Yaak and she doesn't get upset when she looks at it."
A constant prayer
On a recent day, Abbie dozed quietly in her bed as a sheet of paper with Hebrew writing - a prayer for complete healing - rose and fell with the breeze coming in from the screened porch off her bedroom. Susan sees the signs of healing in small moments, measured by the degrees an arm moves or the length of time her daughter holds her head without a spasm. She sees the healing when Abbie gives her a long blink to say "yes" to a question.
"I think for anyone to say that anybody that is still alive is hopeless is, is denying God's existence. I think that those are self-evident now that we are finding ways. It's said that before God made any disease, he invented the cure. It's just up to man to find it, and those cures are out there, no matter what the disease is or the affliction," Susan said. "I think we need to be persistent. So I don't think I'm in fantasyland. I think those things are quite real, and I see my daughter acknowledge things. She does clearly understand."
She sees the healing through Abbie's treatment, with both traditional and alternative medicine. A typical week of Abbie's schedule involves Torah readings by her brother Yaakov, visits by traditional doctors, sessions in occupational and physical therapy, sessions of acupuncture and acutonics, music therapy and electronic leads attached to her head to record brain activity while Abbie sits in front of a computer screen willing a picture to enlarge.
"It's not a matter of so much a timetable, but typically, typically, with neurofeedback it will take two to three years of continuous neurofeedback before one would expect someone like Abbie to be able to get up and perhaps walk with a walker," Susan said. "It's not 10 years down the road, but it's not tomorrow either. Soon, God willing."
Soon, Susan repeated, she hopes to be adding another thing to Abbie's schedule. She hopes to begin webcam visits with the triplets and then work up to face-to-face meetings. She's offering to fly the children in from California with Dan and a friend of his choosing. "I don't care if he brings a girlfriend," she said.
She knows Dan has had one broken engagement since Abbie delivered the triplets, but she's not privy to any other information. But, she said, she remembers the courtship between Abbie and Dan.
Abbie was in her mid-20s, she'd graduated from Ohio State and was starting a practice as a chiropractor in Atlanta. She wanted a partner and she wanted a family. She talked to friends at her local Chabad and through shadkhan, a form of matchmaking in the orthodox faith, she met Dan Dorn. He'd always lived in Southern California. His father owns several buildings and Dan manages some of the properties. He flew to Atlanta several times to meet Abbie.
"He thought she was 'hot,' he used to say," Susan said. "I think he really liked having the prettiest girlfriend of all his friends. I think he really liked having the prettiest wife. He loved her, I think, at first sight. It took her a little longer, but she did love him."
They were married in Atlanta in August 2002. They moved to California, where Dan worked for his father and Abbie continued practicing as a chiropractor.
Late in 2005, the couple opted for in vitro fertilization. All three eggs were fertilized, Abbie was pregnant with triplets and making plans for a growing family. She delivered the triplets on June 20, 2006. A few days later, Abbie was in a coma and her family gathered at her bedside.
Hope all around
On this Thursday, Abbie's bed is surrounded by therapists.
Lydia Skelley is an occupational therapist who conducts three sessions a week in Abbie's home. She uses balancing balls, small foam grips to help muscle tone in Abbie's clenched hands and stretches for her body. She cites Abbie's ability to sit without support as a "major milestone." Skelley has been working with Abbie since December 2007.
"Oh, she has come a long way. She's so much better," Skelley said. "It's nothing real big, except for the sitting up, but it is small little things that she's getting better at. It's little steps, baby steps. She's definitely aware and definitely not in a vegetative state."
A few minutes after the hour-plus session with Skelley, Abbie is back in her bed as her older brother Yaakov flips open a laptop computer and zeroes in on a webpage written in Hebrew. He begins a daily reading of Jewish laws. In between paragraphs of reading about vows, he looks up and calls Abbie's name. "We're getting to the good part soon, Abs," he said. "You're still awake? Good. Abbie, it is pretty interesting stuff. We don't really use this, vow section, so much in our daily lives. But, Abs, if we ever need to know what to do, well, here it is."
Yaakov splits his time between Myrtle Beach and Brooklyn, N.Y. When he's not visiting his sister every other month, he reads to her via a webcam.
He said his little sister was always more of a caretaker for him as a child in Canton, Ohio. She worried over him the way an older sister would have, he imagined. Even as a toddler, he smiled, she acted like a mother to their younger sister, Channa. He remembers Abbie taking charge of changing diapers when Abbie was barely out of diapers. "She was always so nurturing," he said.
Just as Yaakov finishes the reading and packs up his laptop, Jennifer Klich begins unpacking the tools of her trade. She lines up tuning forks on a few folded chairs by Abbie's bed. She opens her viola case and inspects a broken bow. Standing, Klich looks into Abbie's face and smiles. "Hi, Abbie," she says casually. Abbie stares in her direction. Klich begins to apply acupuncture needles, explaining to Abbie that she's targeting a decrease in delta waves so Abbie will be more alert. She's also using acutonics to help with digestion. Klich plays a few songs on the viola, watching Abbie's face morph from calm to contorted and back to calm. While Klich begins a session for instant feedback on a xylophone, Abbie turns to face her. There is a long blink in the stare and Klich smiles as she helps Susan position the xylophone. "Abbie, this is going to be fun," she says, gliding Abbie's hand along the keys.
After the session with Klich, Crystal Toskov takes over at Abbie's bedside. Toskov has only been a caretaker with Abbie for about eight months, but she says they've talked, with Abbie blinking "yes" responses. "You just have to wait a few seconds for her to decide what the answer is," Toskov said. "You have to let her understand what you're saying and then wait for her to answer. She'll answer. If it's 'no,' she'll give you a long look. Then you have to ask a different, opposite question so she can answer 'yes.' She knows what's going on."
While Toskov moves from one room to the other organizing medical and personal care supplies for Abbie, 4-year-old Gracie Phillips bounces in the bedroom. She stops and stares into Abbie's face. "Hey, Abbie," the child says. "Hey, Mama let me come today." The child belongs to housekeeper Jennifer Phillips, and she visits Abbie several times a week. She sits by Abbie as caretaker Amber Morrell attaches electrical leads to Abbie's earlobes and head.
"Abbie, we going to watch a movie today? Mama said we get to see 'Mary Poppins,'" Gracie says as she walks her fingers along the bedrail.
A contraption of computers, wires and modems are positioned back-to-back in Abbie's room. On one side, a monitor flickers blue with bar graphs bouncing and wave forms etching across the top of the screen. On the opposite side is another monitor facing Abbie, Gracie and Susan . The mother's arm is draped over her daughter's shoulder. Abbie's head is dipped with her chin facing her right shoulder. Susan's eyes dart from the computer screen with Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews to Abbie.
"Make it big, Abbie," she says. "You can do it. Make it big." With each encouragement, the movie frame enlarges. The test continues for about an hour. Susan said the neurofeedback is equivalent to a four-hour workout at a gym. Abbie is tucked into her bed after the feedback session and quickly closes her eyes.
Blessings abound
In the afternoon hush, Susan counts the blessings.
There's a blessing that her home is handicapped accessible. In a fluke accident of a work crew flicking a lit cigarette in the wrong place while refinishing wooden floors, their home burned in 2005. At the time, Susan was suffering crippling osteoporosis and outfitted the home with an apartment on the first floor thinking she'd soon be unable to climb the stairs. Since 2005, Susan has taken a new drug for osteoporosis so she can live an active life. That apartment off the foyer is now Abbie's room and the nearby library is a storage room for Abbie's medical and personal supplies.
There's the blessing the triplets are healthy and thriving.
There's the blessing the Cohens were able to afford the 17-month stay in California and able to return to Myrtle Beach with a home and Dr. Cohen's practice intact.
There's the blessing that Yaakov can visit regularly. There's the blessing the Cohens' youngest daughter, Channa Mayer, can visit with her five children and husband from Charlottesville, Va.
"We don't do those normal kind of family things any more, but on the other hand, I think we're even closer," she said. "It's been said that in the times before, what we call Mashiach, Messiah, the English word, that the floodgates of knowledge will open up, and I certainly see that happening, especially in brain research with neuroplasticity and all the excitement in that field.
"We all have the same goal, the same faith in God, that Abbie will have complete healing. We pray that prayer of complete healing."
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