Monday night, April 18, 2016, My 45 year old sister, Whitney (Whitty) suffered cardiac arrest and a major stroke.  She was the mother of Jake (11). 

First responders found her with no heartbeat and unresponsive.  After four attempts of shocking with paddles, she had an unsteady heartbeat. The ER began a process of hypothermal treatment to save her from the risk of brain swelling.  Once she was stabilized, a CT scan was done and we were hopeful that the hypothermal process would allow her time to recover.  We prepared for a three day journey of close monitoring and signs of Whitney still being with us.  Tuesday was a long day with heavy sedation.  She was stable, but critical.  We were hopeful though.  Wednesday morning, we watched intensely as her body temperature was brought back to normal and sedation was slowly decreased.  We began to see some slight movements on her left side and we were thankful.  We prayed that all was going to be ok.  At 2:59, all sedation and pain medication had been removed.  At 3:20, an assessment was done to see if her eyes were responsive to light.  Standing by her side, I watched the nurse raise each eyelid.  The left pupil was dilated.  The right pupil was a tiny pinpoint.  I continued to watch the nurse and I knew something was not right.  The doctor was called to the room and I began calling relatives.  Loved ones began their caravans to us.  Whitney was taken away for a CT scan again.  The results showed that she had suffered from a massive stroke on top of the cardiac arrest.  At 5:15, we were told she would probably not make it through the night.  We continued to visit her, pray for her, and talk to her.  No longer were we asked to limit our visitors in the room.  Jake was allowed in the ICU room for the first time.  (I happened to notice some machinery being removed and fewer nurses around.)  As my mom and other relatives exited in tears, Joe and I remained with my sister.  We were talking to her and encouraged her to fight.  We both took turns speaking to her.  She still was not reacting.  I then decided to let her know it was ok to go.  I selfishly told her I wanted her to stay, but if she needed to go, we would take care of Jake.  My sister was still not responding and I then raised my voice and told her I needed her here for Mom.  I became angry with her and then all of the sudden she kicked her left foot!  I got louder, more angry and used some inappropriate language with her and she raised her left arm.  Joe became excited too and I got close to her face and got even louder.  I told her to open her eyes.  Instead she began to move her mouth and seemed to be frustrated.   I told her not to talk, explaining what had happened to her and told her to open her #@%&# eyes!  AND SHE DID!  The nurses rushed back in, began hooking her back up to pain medication and asked us to leave to stabilize her again.  We were soooooo hopeful that this was a good sign and that it might be a long road ahead, but we would have our Whitty back!  Once Whitty was stabilized, Jake went back to see his mother and he asked if he could touch/rub her feet.  He put his hand on her right foot.  She flexed it back!  (This was the first sign since arriving in the ER on Monday night, that there was ANY movement from her right side.)  We think that she responded to the touch of the son she loved so much!  Slowly, we began to watch her move both legs and both arms.  We continued with prayer.  We were hopeful to speak to the neurologist the next morning.  

Thursday morning, the neurologist shared with us devastating news though.  We were told that Whitney's brain was swelling and that there was nothing that could be done.  The swelling would completely damage her brain by the end of the night.  The day was long and we thought that we could not be emotionally drained anymore, but we watched her move less and less as the day progressed.  We began to accept the grim truth.  The night was even longer.

Friday morning, my brother-in-law bravely signed papers for organ donation and a final process was completed to determine if there was brain activity.  There was none.  We each had the opportunity to have private time with her.  In my fifteen moments alone with her, I promised her that Jake would be ok and taken care of.  I promised that we would figure out how to get him back and forth to school.  I promised her that we would do whatever it takes to keep him involved with sports.  I promised that he would have a happy and as normal as possible adolescence in the coming years.  I promised that he would graduate from high school.  I promised that he would not have to worry about financial support if he wanted to attend college.  I promised her that he would be loved.

At 2:28 pm, Whitney Elaine Collins Henessee was pronounced dead.  At 6:30 pm, she went into surgery to have organs removed to provide others a second chance at life.  

As her big sister, I know that in the days ahead the hospital bills will start to arrive on top of the bills that already existed and were burdensome.   I know the cost of school lunches, football cleats, field trips, school pictures, school supplies, clothing, yearbooks, prom tickets, high school athletics,  etc.  The Henessee household relied on two incomes.  I promised my sister she would not have to worry.  I will do whatever it takes to uphold my promise.

First and foremost, the money raised will be used to help Jake meet his basic needs of groceries, heat, water, and house payments.  In addition, Joe wishes to get rid of the sofa in the living room, where he found Whitney in cardiac arrest.  They will need a new sofa so they don't face the memory of the night when the first responders came to their house.  (Jake saw everything.  Jake is the one who called 911.)  This money is needed immediately.  If we exceed the goal, the money will be used for his future.  I assure you that this money will be used so that Jake does not have to worry.  (Driving home from the hospital on Thursday night, I asked him what was on his mind, and my 11 year old nephew said, "I worry about how my dad will be able to pay for this.")  Jake should not have to worry about adult problems.  Please help if you can.  I will be thankful, Jake will be thankful, and my sister who gave the world an abundance of love, will be thankful.