I battled to keep my teen on life support, but doctors removed the machine

• Angela Kosarue's daughter was declared brain-dead after an allergic reaction and an asthma attack.
• Kosarue was devastated when her daughter was removed from life support against Kosarue's wishes.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Angela Kosarue. It has been edited for length and clarity.

My 17-year-old daughter, Treasure Perry, took a part-time job at a diner in June. She wanted to save enough money to get herself a driver's license and car.

She had all these hopes and ambitions for the future. But she was taken to the emergency room on July 23 after suffering an asthma attack and an extreme allergic reaction to shellfish that was served at the restaurant.

Treasure died on August 12, just a few weeks before she was due to become a senior in high school.

My sweet girl was taken off life support against my wishes. Her doctors had declared her brain-dead on August 2. I'd taken legal action to stop them from removing her ventilator. I fought so hard to keep her alive. But I lost the battle.

The diner was just two blocks away from our home in Indianapolis. I was proud when Treasure started working there. She'd do anything for anybody. She had seven siblings and helped me out with the younger ones. She was pretty much everything you could ask for in a daughter.

She'd used an albuterol inhaler to treat her asthma since her early teens. We found out she was allergic to shellfish in 2021 when she ate some shrimp. Her face swelled up and we took her to the ER. She was given a steroid shot and some cream for her skin. But the reaction wasn't serious.

I rushed to my daughter's workplace after she told me she couldn't breathe

The temperature was 90 degrees when she had the attack in July. I think the heat triggered what happened. The restaurant had just introduced shellfish to the menu, but Treasure didn't come into direct contact with it.

She texted me about her breathing problems about half an hour after starting her shift at 12 p.m. I sent her sister Spirit down to the restaurant with her inhaler, and she texted that she was feeling a bit better.

Then, around 4 p.m., she FaceTimed me. She told me, "Mom, I can't breathe." I called 911 and ran to the diner with my older kids.

She stopped breathing as soon as she got outside the front door.

Her heart had stopped, and the first responders gave her chest compressions. They got her heart back, but she was unresponsive. They took her to Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis, where the doctors said that her brain was swelling. She was put into a medically induced coma and then on a ventilator.

It was heartbreaking to see her covered in tubes and surrounded by machines. We prayed and played some of her favorite gospel songs — anything to get a reaction. I stayed there all the time.

I was certain that Treasure's condition would improve and she would survive

Then, on July 31, I got Treasure transferred to Riley Hospital for Children. I thought it would be better for her because it was a pediatric hospital. The doctors checked her for movement and did a brain-stem test on August 2. They said she had no blood flow to her brain and declared her brain-dead.

They said I had a couple of hours to gather the family to say goodbye before they took her off life support. I said: "No. My daughter deserves a chance." I did a lot of research on the internet and read that other patients had pulled through who were initially in the same medical situation as Treasure.

So I argued that she wasn't brain-dead but in a coma. We found a lawyer and got an extension to keep her on the ventilator.

Meanwhile, she started squeezing my hand. She tried to take breaths. Her pupils reacted to a flashlight. It gave us hope. But the doctors said the reactions were merely reflexive.

I called around to more than a dozen other hospitals across the US. I wanted them to take over Treasure's care. But they said they couldn't take her in because she hadn't had a tracheotomy to help her breathing. Riley Hospital refused to perform the procedure because she was considered clinically dead. We didn't understand.

It was devastating when the judge refused to extend the deadline. They made the ruling on August 10, and Treasure's life support was withdrawn the following day. Before they switched off her machine, I kissed her and told her "I love you so much" and "I'm sorry, but I tried. I did everything I possibly could."

I think about her every minute of the day. It's hard to accept what has happened. I'm speaking to lawyers about suing Riley Hospital for wrongful death.

I'm speaking out because I want people to know Treasure's name and her story. I don't want her to have died for nothing and to be forgotten about. Maybe our story will help somebody else.

Editor's note: Riley Hospital for Children declined to comment when contacted by Insider. The final legal conclusions on Perry's case are here.

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