Very early in the morning, on September 11, 2001. I was sitting in a rocking chair with my ten week old niece who was recovering from her first heart surgery seven weeks earlier in the PICU at UCLA. The baby was hooked to a ventilator. With a TPN, short for a central catheter inserted in her chest for parenteral feeding, and several more lines from where blood tests were drawn many times per day, and medicines were administered, she was in pain and had not had a good rest. I