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 It has been almost impossible for me to copy and paste Cokie's short story from the file I had it on, so I've decided to just type it.  I've typed it exactly the way the Chinese translator translated.  

Keep in mind very, very few people adopting from China know this much about their child's past.  I received this information because of Hopeful Hearts.  HH are European women whose husbands are working in China, and they do volunteer work in China.  HH saw Kong Wei Xin (Cokie) in the orphanage (at the time I knew nothing of HH and HH knew nothing of me) and moved Cokie back into the hospital, but this time to a "western" style hospital.  HH later made the point of a "western" hospital very clear to me.  If you ever go to a Chinese hospital you'll know why!  However, they kept Cokie alive even before she was moved to the western style hospital so they did do a wonderful job.  HH (Suzanne Bettina) is who met this reporter, Shen Fuyu.  His book is on Amazon.  http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Cry-Shen-Fuyu/dp/7539928492

If you have just started reading Cokie's story start down two posts and go backwards. 



"42% of her skin has been burnt, 35 of which are third degree burns," says the doctor in charge.

The child starts to cry.  A nurse touches her hand and says, "Don't cry Darling."  The doctor says, "Don't cry Darling."  I also say, "Don't cry darling."  But the child cries even more:  "Mama, Mama!"

Mama is not here.  Nobody knows if she'll ever see her Mama and Daddy again.  Nobody knows who she is, who her family is.   She is all alone left in the hospital.  The Red-Cross Hospital of Nanjing. 

MARCH 9TH, 2004 BAIXIA STREET, NANJING RED CROSS HOSPITAL

8 o'clock p.m., section 7, burns.  The phone rings, a guard says there is a little girl severely burnt.  The nurse rushes down to meet her. 

When I came to the elevator on the ground floor two men, one of them holding a child in his arms.  The child was wrapped tightly in a quilt.  When we stepped into the elevator he said the child was burnt by fire two days ago.  The child's mother went to their hometown in Sichuan to fetch money.  He himself was working in Zhejiang.  The child had been hospitalized in the Jurong Hospital before.  The doctors there had her transferred to here.  The other man with him was a friend, said the nurse.

In the treatment room Doctor Qiao Cheng is already waiting.  He is the director of the faculty for burns.  "She is severely burnt, her life is at stake." The lower limbs on her left side have already started to charcoal, giving a hollow sound when you strike.  The blood vessels are also scorched, they have the shape of branches and stiffened, the child is in shock.  

"The upper limbs of the child have been pricked continuously.  It's impossible to give more injections.  She's been enswathed professionally, by all appearances she's been hospitalized before."

Tension is spreading in the ward. 

"Cut the veins open, transfer white blood plasma, medication and vitamins."  

"Give her a check up from head to toe, new medicine and bind her again."

The child's father is leaning against the bed, squatting on the floor, hands pressed against the wind.  His friend went to handle the admittance procedures.  "I only have 1000 Yuan with me the child's mother will be back tomorrow and bring more money."  After going through the paperwork, he also says the wife is in the hospital and has to leave.  The child's father watches her.  He cannot stand upright anymore.  He says he has not eaten anything in three days, neither sleep.  He squats down.


After an hour the child is being taken to a custody ward for severe illness.  


She is getting a transfusion.  Her father is watching her.  She looks dark and thin, her face looks chapped, maybe from crying.  

The father touches the child's hand, her head.  She has fallen asleep.  He bends over at her bed and looks into her face.  His eyes are red with congestion.  

The father stays at the side of her bed 40 minutes.  The child is sleeping all along.

"I want to eat something", says the father, his face full of agony.  He writes the child's name on the registration card:  Li Xia, age one and half, address: Sichuan, Neijiang.  Then he leaves. 

He walks down the stairs from the fifth floor.  A nurse is walking the staircase.  She sees him on the third floor, bent over the handrail vomiting.  Even after vomiting he stays there, bent over.  His face is full of agony and grief. 

He hasn't come back.  He has never turned up again.  He left his child in the hospital, all by herself. 

I'll type the rest of Cokie's story tomorrow.