But with each doctor who looked at her, it was clear she was in worse and worse shape, her mother said. She was losing sensation. And when they did a common reflex test where the toe points down unless there's "a big problem with the spine," her toe pointed straight up.

Standler remembers a succession of experts cautioning her that they could not realistically expect to save her life and her mobility both. Clearly the tumor had to go.

Standler said Dr. Lor Randall, who specializes in sarcomas, called in the doctor who would serve as point, Dr. John T. Braun, an orthopedic spine surgeon at University Hospital, where the lengthy surgery took place. He, in turn, consulted with heart surgeon Dr. Shreekanth V. Karwande and with others. He was even consulting by phone during surgery.

First they went in up high on her side, through the fourth rib, and removed as much as they could, pushing aside heart and lung to reach it. They took a brief break and then went in through her back to get more. And they rebuilt the collapsed section of spine using bone chips and screws.

Good days and bad

They didn't get it all. But Dr. Richard S. Lemons, an oncologist who will direct the chemotherapy she starts this weekend, believes she has a very good chance of being among the 70 percent cured of Ewing's with aggressive treatment. She'll have 2 1/2 days of chemo, a two- or three-week break, then be back for five days of chemotherapy over the next year, with periodic X-rays. If needed, she'll undergo radiation, though they'd rather avoid that, since the spinal cord is sensitive to radiation.

As bad as the tumor was, the cancer hadn't spread to other parts of the body. The future is very hopeful, Lemons said.

Christy has good days and bad days. She has had a lot of pain from the surgery, and sometimes that makes her cry. She hasn't, she points out, cried "because I thought I would die. I don't think that." But she's terrified of falling down, anxious about catching the ball if a therapist or social worker isn't hanging onto her.

Still, she's enjoying a small amount of "I told you so," too. "It's a relief because nobody believed me at first."

She calls herself a "screamer," and the staff laughs in disbelief. "Well," she modifies it, talking to occupational therapist Sherrie Dahl, "I told you I didn't like you, which is kinda mean."

On the bright side, the hospital is like a hotel, she says. She loves the people, though she misses her mom, who is trying to use time carefully because, as a single mom, she has to keep working some, too.

And that's another story, Standler says. A lot of people saved her daughter's life, and as many more are helping day to day. Neighbors in Cedar City built a ramp with a rail for what they thought would be a needed wheelchair. It will be a blessing for the girl, who has trouble with stairs right now. A pathologist at LDS Hospital has offered a place to stay if needed and use of a computer and microscope so Standler can do some of her work from Salt Lake City. The medical collaboration has involved doctors in different specialties from Primary, University Hospital and Huntsman Cancer Institute. There were four surgeons and three times that many others involved in direct care.

Braun smiles at the girl across the room, cuddled between two social workers, her braids swinging as she laughs.

"On that second day, when they told me she stood up, it made my entire year."

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E-mail: lois@desnews.com