FOR LUNG TRANSPLANT APPLICANT, IT'S THE WAIT OF A LIFETIME.

Byline: Anita Creamer Scripps-McClatchy Western Service

Carrie Summers is caught between life and death, waiting.

At home in Auburn earlier this week, holding her baby in her arms, she watched Rod Carew on TV. Only days after his daughter died of leukemia while awaiting a bone marrow transplant, Carew was willing to step forward - despite his pain - and talk about the need for organ and tissue donations.

Carrie Summers watched, and she grieved for him.

She knows the wait, the wait that she relies on faith to carry her through, and she knows the pain.

She, too, is willing to talk about it.

Six years ago, at age 25, married and the mother of a son, Summers was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, a congenital disease that clogs lungs and leaves its victims unable to breathe.

``When they diagnosed it, it was devastating to me,'' she said. ``They said it's a disease you die from. I wanted to watch my child grow up.

``For years, I grieved because I thought you get married and have children and live a long time. I had a fairy-tale idea of life. It didn't happen that way. I decided to accept that God had given me one child. I felt blessed. Then one day I found out I was pregnant.'' Last May, despite the warnings of her physicians and the advice of friends and family, she gave birth to a daughter, Brandi.

I should tell you that both of her children, these kids she risked her life to bring into the world, are healthy.

But her own health was so precarious that midway through 1995, her doctors gave her only a 25 percent chance of seeing Christmas.

Since Dec. 19, Carrie Summers has been on the waiting list for a double lung transplant.

In her Auburn home, with curtains framing a view of a wide, green front yard, she holds Brandi in her lap. She watches as her son, Ryan, an energetic 8-year-old, plays Monopoly with a volunteer from the Summers' church. During Carrie's illness, the church has pitched in to help with the house, the meals and the kids.

Three times, the beeper the hospital gave her to signal that the organs are available has gone off - three accidental beepings.

``I've cried,'' Summers says.

According to Sacramento's Golden State Donor Services, the average wait for a lung transplant is 410 days. Across the country, some 45,000 people are awaiting organ transplants, and more than one-third die before donors are found.

Because family consent is required before organs can be donated, a signed donor card is not enough: If more people told their families their wishes, more lives could be saved.

``It's completely out of my hands,'' said Summers. ``I try to focus on my family now. I have journals I'm writing for them.''