VERNON, B.C. — It's been an exhausting few days. Scores of doctors, nurses and therapists have poked, prodded, measured, scanned and weighed the five-month-old conjoined twins, Tatiana and Krista Hogan-Simms. They are trying to determine, on this March visit to Vancouver, whether these unique sisters can be separated.
At B.C. Children's Hospital, doctors put small electrodes on the twins' scalps to see if one girl's brain responds when the other is touched. "This allows us to look at how their brains work," Doug Cochrane, the twins' pediatric neurosurgeon, said.
The girls' separate brain functions are normal and the tests reveal no evidence they have shared physical sensations.
Next, magnetic resonance imaging is attempted on the twins' skulls, but they won't stay still. Their father, Brendan Hogan, tries to lull them to sleep, but each time they are placed in the doughnut-shaped magnet, Tatiana wakes up and cries. In the end, the MRI is only partly successful, and the delays put the rest of the testing behind schedule.
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Their mother, 21-year-old Felicia Simms, has come to a decision: They will postpone the next test, a cerebral angiography, which would provide the clearest picture yet of the blood vessels in the girls' brains.
The next morning, she leans over the crib, touching Tatiana and offering words of comfort.
"She looks like a starving Africa baby," Mr. Hogan says, eliciting disapproving stares from Ms. Simms and her mother, Louise McKay.
Later, he is more reflective. "It's so unbelievably stressful. I can't sleep, I can't eat . . . Anything with Felicia and the kids, it's just so hard to watch."
Dr. Cochrane has tried to persuade Ms. Simms to go ahead with the angiography. But Ms. Simms has seen enough. She chose to give birth to them despite dire warnings that they would not survive. She is their primary caregiver and, to her mind, the girls just aren't right.
Tatiana, at about eight pounds, is far smaller than her pudgy, double-chinned sister. (The twins are weighed together, but, based on body size, doctors estimate that Krista represents 60 per cent of the total and Tatiana 40.) Ms. Simms says Tatiana is agitated, exhausted and "slipping away" from her. She knows that the costly trip has so far yielded few new results, but she also knows her own mind.
"I thought I was going to have a breakdown," Ms. Simms recalls later. "It was so hard to see the girls not themselves. . . . I felt like I had to protect my child at that point."
So, two days after the twins are admitted to hospital, Ms. Simms confirms that there would be no more tests -- for now. "Dr. Cochrane wanted it done," she says. "But he also said I am their mother and I should trust my instincts."
They reschedule the angiography for late April -- for today. Once they have the results, doctors in Vancouver will consult with experts from Toronto, Baltimore, New York, Chicago and Salt Lake City, not just neurosurgeons but facial, cardiovascular and plastic surgeons as well.
They will not have a recommendation for several weeks.
Scathing critics
Like many women her age, Felicia Simms is a study in contrasts. One minute she's discussing the twins' eating patterns, the next she and her brother Doug are arguing good-naturedly about how many body piercings are too many.
Another favoured topic is her belief in a magical life. "I do believe in fairies; I always have," she says one afternoon, a dreamy smile on her face. "They're magical and mischievous creatures, like a mystery to life."
Yet Ms. Simms also has four children, including Rosa, 4, and Christopher, 2. And as the mother of Canada's only craniopagus twins, she is learning that celebrity parenthood has as many perils as perks -- and she is learning how to stand her ground.
In Vernon, a city of about 35,000 in B.C.'s Okanagan Valley, most residents have embraced the family. They've held fundraisers, set up a trust fund for the girls, and showered Ms. Simms with clothes, diapers and presents.
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