In one week, David Null learned more than he ever wanted to know about financing medical care. In May 2005, while Null was driving his family to Sea World in San Antonio, his daughter began throwing up into a plastic bowl in the third row of their Toyota Sequoia.

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David Null and Tatum Null, 11, (right) help Hannah Null, 7, with her homework. An insurance policy he thought covered such emergencies had maxed out after Tatum's first 12 hours at the hospital for liver failure in 2005.

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"Daddy, I'm thirsty," said Tatum, then 7.

Those would be the last words he'd hear her speak for the next seven days, as she lay in an intensive care unit with acute liver failure. An insurance policy he thought covered such emergencies had maxed out after Tatum's first 12 hours at the hospital.

And the father faced a $200,000 bill that had to be paid upfront. If the bill went unpaid, the family could not add Tatum to a liver transplant waiting list.

"In the hospital, it was Tatum on life support for a week," Null said. "Then she got out, and our finances went on life support for over two years."

Null, owner of a 10-year-old air-conditioning system cleaning business, considered himself a savvy health insurance shopper. Three times in five years, he bought and canceled policies just before low introductory rates expired. He purchased the last policy in January 2005.

"What still bothers me today is that the guy who sold me the policy deceived Sherry and [me] at our own dinner table," Null said of him and his wife. "I told him I specifically needed insurance for the big 'Oh, no!' Not head colds."

What he did not know was it carried a $35,000 lifetime maximum per medical event.

In May 2005, when Tatum was in Medical City Dallas' intensive care unit, her organs were shutting down. "Are you all people of faith?" Null recalled the doctor asking. "I suggest you pray."

Tatum was rushed to Children's Medical Center in Dallas, which had the required personnel and procedures for better treatment.

Tatum's liver, an organ that cleanses the body of toxins, was deteriorating gradually. Her brain was starting to swell, jeopardizing her life. "Her eyelids were swollen, fingers were swollen and her tongue wouldn't fit in her mouth," Null said. "You could count the taste buds on her tongue."

Null's insurance policy had maxed out after 12 hours at Medical City Dallas – and after 36 hours at Children's.

The administrative director for the solid organ transplant program at Children's approached Null about insurance. "I'm thinking, 'Aren't I glad I got that policy when I did,' " Null said. "He then starts to tell me the insurance policy maxed out the night before, and normally the hospital requires a $200,000 deposit to proceed."

The administrative director had to secure signatures from a top hospital administrator to proceed without the deposit, with the hope that Null would qualify for Medicaid.

The nearly $561,000 transplant surgery was successful. Medication alone, for 21 days, was $86,000. Tatum was in the hospital for a total of 10 weeks. She was required to have monthly intravenous therapy sessions that were a few thousand dollars each. Her medicine to prevent organ rejection cost $1,000 a month. "We couldn't risk even a day without coverage," Null said.

In order for the Nulls to qualify for Medicaid, Children's finance department performed extensive asset checks and required Null to submit several years of tax records. Medicaid covered the entire bill retroactively.

The Nulls reduced their income to under $1,614 a month because of Medicaid's income limitations. That meant rejecting contracts out of fear of making too much money. "There was barely a dollar left over after mortgage and food, so car or house repairs and anything else had to go on credit or wait until we could give up Medicaid," Null said.

At 11, Tatum, who has insurance under her mother's policy through the Richardson Independent School district, now has a pre-existing condition, a permanent marker that could alter her career choice. "Small companies will find a reason to not hire her if they find out she's had a transplant," Null said. "Their rates will go through the roof if they hire her."

"She can never work for herself either at this rate," Null said. "She can't be an artist or own a dress shop. She can't be a lot of things that little girls dream about. What do I tell her?"