I thought for SURE this blog wouldn't be around anymore. I guess there's no real time limit in cyberspace. No one to nag me and tell me that I need to write more often. It's a shame, really. Then again, I really don't like being told what to do. I've thought about this blog a lot. A lot a lot, not just a little a lot. You know what they say about the road and good intentions...
One of the big dates of importance over the past two years is March 28, 2013--kidney transplant! A very cool story accompanies the transplant experience, and is yet another witness to me that Heavenly Father really is the one in charge.
Sometime late 2012, my sister Lindsey was approved to donate a kidney to me. She had lost a lot of weight in order to be eligible to do so, and was feeling great. Her kidney wasn't SUPER ideal, but it was going to work. The only issue was with one of the transplant nephrologists. She thought that Lindsey only lost the weight to give me a kidney and that she would put it all back on again afterwards. That is a concern because overweight people tend to have higher blood pressure, which in turn damages the kidneys. We had to wait a few months so she could prove she was still losing. We finally had a date set for the beginning of April.
March 27 rolled around and I got a phone call at around 7 am. It was my nurse coordinator telling me that they have found a kidney for me that is a perfect match. I was puzzled, and questioned why this kidney, as my sister was ready to fly here in a few days to donate. The nurse put the transplant surgeon on the phone, and he explained to me that this is THE kidney we've all been waiting for. The right type, good arteries, etc. By the time I got off the phone, I was shaking...I couldn't believe it. I was worried that Lindsey would be sad, and I think she was a little, but it was also a relief. It would have been a challenge for her to go home and be a mom to four little ones after the procedure.
Over the next several hours, I was able to find out that the kidney was coming from a woman in her early fifties, who lived in Pennsylvania. I didn't know how she died, or if she had been on life support or any other circumstances. One of my "good intention" things I need to do is to find out how I can contact her family. I've thought about this a lot over the past couple of years. How do you thank someone for saving your life?
We stayed in Phoenix on the 27th so we'd be close when it was time. They wanted my blood completely clean before the transplant, so I had one last dialysis treatment before the surgery. During the treatment, I couldn't help but smile, as I realized that this was my LAST treatment. I ended up waiting a while after the treatment, but finally went into surgery around 10 pm on the 28th. The surgery went well, I am so grateful for the incredible doctors they have at Mayo. We all knew going in that I was a high-risk situation, but Dr. Reddy (the surgeon) was my biggest cheerleader. I woke up from the surgery so happy and grateful. I remember smiling so big and just saying over and over again how happy and grateful I was. (Of course, it could have also been the pain meds...) :)
I was in the hospital for four days following surgery. Everyone was so happy with my kidney function. Sometimes you even have to have a few dialysis treatments after transplant to jump start the kidney, but mine worked like a charm from day one. It was funny to hear everyone get excited about how much urine I was putting out. I was a little anemic, so I had a blood transfusion before I went home, but other than that, things were shaping up well.
I went home with what seemed like a million prescription bottles. This would become my new routine...a set of pills at 8 am, another set at 8 pm. There were some meds I would be able to get rid of after a few weeks, but I've been on five or six pretty regularly since. Every time I get labs drawn, they check my counts to see if they need to adjust my medication. This was done frequently in the beginning, but now I only have it done every six weeks or so.
About a week after transplant, I attended a class for newbies on the "care and feeding of your new kidney." Basically, we learned that we're now highly susceptible to infections and sicknesses of every kind, we have to be very careful where we eat and if they've used proper food handling procedures, and we MUST take our pills. I have to say that I haven't really noticed that I've been more susceptible--in fact, just the opposite. When my husband and kids were sick with a bad cold this winter, it never affected me. I'm also not a super touchy-feely kind of person, so I'm sure that helps.
They said to avoid buffets, which isn't a problem for me as they gross me out. Who knows how many people have sneezed/coughed/drooled on or touched your food before you serve yourself. Ewww...
One of the guys in the class was super bugged that he couldn't eat brie anymore--something about soft cheese or bacteria...whatever...get over it! You've got a new kidney for crying out loud!!
So the kidney has been working well for me. I've had some other health issues I'll get to in another post, and these issues have affected my kidney function a bit, but it's always reversible. Ultrasounds and a biopsy all show that it's happy as a clam sitting there in my right hip pocket.
When I received the kidney, it had been VERY long 3 years, 3 months, and 3 days since my first dialysis treatment. While I was in the thick of things, it seemed like I was in hell, and there were some days I was sure I was. I wondered if my Heavenly Father had forgotten me, I wondered if I'd be on dialysis forever, and I wondered why this was happening to me. Looking back, I still wouldn't wish that time on my worse enemy, but I am so grateful for what I have learned and experienced. I have never been closer to my husband, my children, my brothers and sisters, and especially my Savior. I've always thought the "Footprints" poem was kind of cheesy, but I do know that there were times when He carried me.
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.
This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.
So I said to the Lord,
"You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one
set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most,
you have not been there for me?"
The Lord replied,
"The times when you have
seen only one set of footprints,
is when I carried you."
Mary Stevenson
Monday, March 23, 2015
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Ketchup, Catsup, Catch-up
To say it's been a long time is the understatement of the century. October? Really?
To sum up:
November saw my 21st anniversary with my Prince Charming. (When does he get promoted to a king?) Thanksgiving with the fam in Chandler. Another family member tested and rejected.
December brought wrestling, wrestling and more wrestling. Gordon is the head varsity wrestling coach now, so he and Ian were together a good chunk of the time. Ian struggled with his weight, knowing that he needed to cut a few pounds. He ended the season much better than he started, once the weight was off. Christmas was great. Gordon spoiled me again with some beautiful earrings and a necklace. Courtnie got a pair of the Miss Me jeans she was hoping for, and Ian got his iPhone.
January was busy with more wrestling and Courtnie starting volleyball and getting braces. Lindsey came on January 2 and was tested at Mayo to see if she was a viable donor. Luckily, she has the right anatomy, right chemistry, and it's finally the right time! We're scheduled for April 2, and I'm counting the days!! I'm trying really hard to stay grounded, as I've been let down so many times. I'm torn between being super excited and very skeptical that it's actually going to happen.
February flew by! Once wrestling season was over the first weekend of February, it was nice to be able to relax. Ian turned 16 on February 25, and we celebrated at Texas Roadhouse with the family and his girlfriend, Kylie. They broke up a few days later, but she is such a cutie. (I miss her!) Courtnie had a piano recital this month, and improved her score SO much over last year's recital. She gets so nervous, so I was so proud of her!
We've had some family struggles in the past couple of weeks. It is amazing how a struggles work either for us or against us. These struggles rocked my world, but I am praying daily that this will help us grow. Satan is alive and well, and working hard to break us. Our children face a battlefield every single day. Gordon and I realized that we need to do a better job providing armor for them. It's not enough to assume they know right from wrong. We recognize that they have their agency, and make their own choices, but that armor will hopefully deflect some of the temptations out there and keep them safer.
This month we are counting the weeks, dialysis treatments, days, and eventually hours until I can be healthy again. I have applied for the Master's of Social Work program at ASU, and am waiting to hear if I've been accepted. I know that this is a huge change for me, but I am excited about this new career path. It will be two years of hard work, and a lot of sacrifice, but I feel like this is what I'm supposed to do with my post-transplant life. I've had the "where God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window" moment, and it's led me to this point.
Once I've had my transplant, I plan on updating this better so that people know how I'm doing. I'm so grateful for the prayers, love, and support I've received over the past three years. I have been blessed with a sense of peace and comfort, and this has sustained me. I'm just so grateful.
To sum up:
November saw my 21st anniversary with my Prince Charming. (When does he get promoted to a king?) Thanksgiving with the fam in Chandler. Another family member tested and rejected.
December brought wrestling, wrestling and more wrestling. Gordon is the head varsity wrestling coach now, so he and Ian were together a good chunk of the time. Ian struggled with his weight, knowing that he needed to cut a few pounds. He ended the season much better than he started, once the weight was off. Christmas was great. Gordon spoiled me again with some beautiful earrings and a necklace. Courtnie got a pair of the Miss Me jeans she was hoping for, and Ian got his iPhone.
January was busy with more wrestling and Courtnie starting volleyball and getting braces. Lindsey came on January 2 and was tested at Mayo to see if she was a viable donor. Luckily, she has the right anatomy, right chemistry, and it's finally the right time! We're scheduled for April 2, and I'm counting the days!! I'm trying really hard to stay grounded, as I've been let down so many times. I'm torn between being super excited and very skeptical that it's actually going to happen.
February flew by! Once wrestling season was over the first weekend of February, it was nice to be able to relax. Ian turned 16 on February 25, and we celebrated at Texas Roadhouse with the family and his girlfriend, Kylie. They broke up a few days later, but she is such a cutie. (I miss her!) Courtnie had a piano recital this month, and improved her score SO much over last year's recital. She gets so nervous, so I was so proud of her!
We've had some family struggles in the past couple of weeks. It is amazing how a struggles work either for us or against us. These struggles rocked my world, but I am praying daily that this will help us grow. Satan is alive and well, and working hard to break us. Our children face a battlefield every single day. Gordon and I realized that we need to do a better job providing armor for them. It's not enough to assume they know right from wrong. We recognize that they have their agency, and make their own choices, but that armor will hopefully deflect some of the temptations out there and keep them safer.
This month we are counting the weeks, dialysis treatments, days, and eventually hours until I can be healthy again. I have applied for the Master's of Social Work program at ASU, and am waiting to hear if I've been accepted. I know that this is a huge change for me, but I am excited about this new career path. It will be two years of hard work, and a lot of sacrifice, but I feel like this is what I'm supposed to do with my post-transplant life. I've had the "where God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window" moment, and it's led me to this point.
Once I've had my transplant, I plan on updating this better so that people know how I'm doing. I'm so grateful for the prayers, love, and support I've received over the past three years. I have been blessed with a sense of peace and comfort, and this has sustained me. I'm just so grateful.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Tuesday
I apologize for the lack of creativity in the title of this post. Since this will contain several thoughts, I just didn't know what to call it.
I've recently started painting my fingernails. One could call it a minor obsession. I never used to do this because the polish would start to chip and I'd spend the next few days chipping away at the remaining polish. I was never satisfied with the way it looked--every wrinkle, bubble, or fingerprint would annoy me to no end.
I wish there was some sort of trick for achieving the perfectly polished fingernail. I know--I could spend money and go get them done somewhere, but most nail techs kind of freak me out. It's nothing personal. Also, I don't really like to go somewhere and try to be friendly to someone I don't know while they "service" my nails.
So, I guess I'll suffer through polishing, not being satisfied, taking polish off, re-polishing...lather, rinse, repeat.
I have a Stake Primary leadership meeting on Thursday, and I'm in charge of a 30-minute break-out session with the Primary choristers. I've tried to contact each of them, because I want them all to bring an idea to share. Only three of the eight have returned emails, texts, or phone calls. Frustrating. One of them commented that she's having a hard time getting the children to behave. This is a difficult issue for many, and I hope that I will be able to share some thoughts and ideas that will help.
I've been feeling pretty lousy the last several days. I just don't seem to have any energy, and I am so exhausted all of the time. Last Friday's dialysis was the worst it's been in a long time. I dry heaved and vomited nearly the entire time. When my stomach is upset I have to ask someone to take me off of the dialysis machine so I can use the bathroom. This process takes at least five minutes, as they have to rinse all of my blood back and unhook everything. When you're sick, this five minutes is an eternity.
I came home and slept the rest of the day and night. Saturday and Sunday I stayed in bed with an upset stomach. I wasn't able to eat much and just didn't have any energy. I hated missing church, but I just couldn't do it. As I was falling asleep Sunday night, the words to the song, "O Divine Redeemer" came to my mind. As they ran through my mind, they became like a prayer for me.
Ah, turn me not away, receive me though unworthy.
Ah, turn me not away, receive me though unworthy.
Hear Thou my cry, hear Thou my cry,
Behold, Lord, my distress!
Answer me from Thy throne,
Haste Thee, Lord, to mine aid!
Thy pity show in my deep anguish, Thy pity show in my deep anguish.
Let not the sword of vengeance smite me,
Though righteous Thine anger, O Lord!
Shield me in danger, O regard me!
On Thee, Lord, alone will I call!
I've recently started painting my fingernails. One could call it a minor obsession. I never used to do this because the polish would start to chip and I'd spend the next few days chipping away at the remaining polish. I was never satisfied with the way it looked--every wrinkle, bubble, or fingerprint would annoy me to no end.
I wish there was some sort of trick for achieving the perfectly polished fingernail. I know--I could spend money and go get them done somewhere, but most nail techs kind of freak me out. It's nothing personal. Also, I don't really like to go somewhere and try to be friendly to someone I don't know while they "service" my nails.
So, I guess I'll suffer through polishing, not being satisfied, taking polish off, re-polishing...lather, rinse, repeat.
I have a Stake Primary leadership meeting on Thursday, and I'm in charge of a 30-minute break-out session with the Primary choristers. I've tried to contact each of them, because I want them all to bring an idea to share. Only three of the eight have returned emails, texts, or phone calls. Frustrating. One of them commented that she's having a hard time getting the children to behave. This is a difficult issue for many, and I hope that I will be able to share some thoughts and ideas that will help.
I've been feeling pretty lousy the last several days. I just don't seem to have any energy, and I am so exhausted all of the time. Last Friday's dialysis was the worst it's been in a long time. I dry heaved and vomited nearly the entire time. When my stomach is upset I have to ask someone to take me off of the dialysis machine so I can use the bathroom. This process takes at least five minutes, as they have to rinse all of my blood back and unhook everything. When you're sick, this five minutes is an eternity.
I came home and slept the rest of the day and night. Saturday and Sunday I stayed in bed with an upset stomach. I wasn't able to eat much and just didn't have any energy. I hated missing church, but I just couldn't do it. As I was falling asleep Sunday night, the words to the song, "O Divine Redeemer" came to my mind. As they ran through my mind, they became like a prayer for me.
Ah, turn me not away, receive me though unworthy.
Ah, turn me not away, receive me though unworthy.
Hear Thou my cry, hear Thou my cry,
Behold, Lord, my distress!
Answer me from Thy throne,
Haste Thee, Lord, to mine aid!
Thy pity show in my deep anguish, Thy pity show in my deep anguish.
Let not the sword of vengeance smite me,
Though righteous Thine anger, O Lord!
Shield me in danger, O regard me!
On Thee, Lord, alone will I call!
As I approach this busy and important week, I know that I will need His help. My prayer Sunday night became a plea to give me strength to do what needed to be done. I woke up Monday morning feeling a little better, and actually felt pretty good after dialysis. I'm still tired, but I'm able to eat a little again, and my strength is returning. I'm so grateful.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Well Done
Matthew 25:21 His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
I've been thinking about this scripture for the past week or so. It has come to my mind several times, most recently while I was in the temple last week. As we covenant with our Father in Heaven to consecrate all of our time, talents, and everything He has blessed us with to building up the Kingdom of God on earth, I wonder if I am doing all I can. Do I rest on my laurels? Is there more I can do?
My deepest desire is to return to live with Him and to be with my family forever. I want to be able to see His face and to not be ashamed with how I have used the time He has given me. I want to be able to say to Him that I have done all I can do to make Him proud of me.
I've been thinking about this time I've been given to be at home and away from work. While it has been difficult to feel rather useless, it has also given me a lot of time for reflection. I'm alone with my thoughts a lot! Recently I've been evaluating my graduate work opportunities and where they will lead me. I'm currently enrolled in the Human Relations master's program at NAU, but I don't know where that will take me in the future. It seems more and more like a "throw away" degree. (Not that gaining education is ever a waste...)
I was in Utah last week for my nephew's baptism. My sister's sister-in-law was there, and we started talking about her career in social work. I have had a good relationship with the social worker at my dialysis center, and talking to Jayne made me consider this as a possibility. One of the aspects of my job as a teacher that I really enjoyed was building relationships with my students. I enjoyed the times that they would come in and talk to me and I could help them with their problems. Is this a good time in my life to take a different career path?
My patriarchal blessing tells me that I have a special heart and a gift for understanding. My experiences and trials make make me more empathetic. Perhaps this is the reason I am having these experiences right now. I believe that when a door is closed another one opens. Is this the door I'm supposed to take?
I've been thinking about this scripture for the past week or so. It has come to my mind several times, most recently while I was in the temple last week. As we covenant with our Father in Heaven to consecrate all of our time, talents, and everything He has blessed us with to building up the Kingdom of God on earth, I wonder if I am doing all I can. Do I rest on my laurels? Is there more I can do?
My deepest desire is to return to live with Him and to be with my family forever. I want to be able to see His face and to not be ashamed with how I have used the time He has given me. I want to be able to say to Him that I have done all I can do to make Him proud of me.
I've been thinking about this time I've been given to be at home and away from work. While it has been difficult to feel rather useless, it has also given me a lot of time for reflection. I'm alone with my thoughts a lot! Recently I've been evaluating my graduate work opportunities and where they will lead me. I'm currently enrolled in the Human Relations master's program at NAU, but I don't know where that will take me in the future. It seems more and more like a "throw away" degree. (Not that gaining education is ever a waste...)
I was in Utah last week for my nephew's baptism. My sister's sister-in-law was there, and we started talking about her career in social work. I have had a good relationship with the social worker at my dialysis center, and talking to Jayne made me consider this as a possibility. One of the aspects of my job as a teacher that I really enjoyed was building relationships with my students. I enjoyed the times that they would come in and talk to me and I could help them with their problems. Is this a good time in my life to take a different career path?
My patriarchal blessing tells me that I have a special heart and a gift for understanding. My experiences and trials make make me more empathetic. Perhaps this is the reason I am having these experiences right now. I believe that when a door is closed another one opens. Is this the door I'm supposed to take?
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
*Sigh*
In case you're just tuning in, we've had yet another delay. This makes delay number 648,204 (or so it seems.)
In July, my brother Bill was here for testing to be my donor. On the third day of testing, he got a phone call that he was not going to be able to donate as he had the same multiple artery issue that my sister Michelle had. That same day my brother Andy called. He said, "Word on the street is that you need a kidney." :)
He was a perfect match for me, and came to Arizona for further testing. He went through all four days of testing, and was told by a surgeon on the last day he was here that there shouldn't be a problem using his kidneys. He was told that he had the same multiple artery issue, but that there was one artery that could work. We would know for sure if he would be accepted the following Tuesday after the selection committee met.
We got a call on Tuesday and were told that the committee decided to try and find a better donor. Andy would be a "plan B" if we couldn't find a better donor. So--we were back to square one.
I had a few people ask for information on becoming my donor, and my Aunt Sarah is another perfect match. The next step is to see if she has the same artery issue that my siblings have. I've fasted and prayed so hard that the perfect kidney would present itself. Maybe this time--finally--will be it.
Sometimes I feel like I'm alone in this, and it just gets so hard. I just want so badly for this to be over with. I would love to not have to go to dialysis anymore. I would love to feel good and have energy to get through the day. I'm tired of trying to be strong all of the time. I try to keep a smile on my face and tell myself that it's going to be okay, but it gets tough sometimes. I just found out that the October 31 surgery date I was hoping to keep is no longer possible. It seems like every time we have to reschedule it ends up being another three months. I just don't want to wait that long.
A couple of weeks ago, Gordon was called to be the executive secretary to our bishop and was set apart by our stake president. While he was in the middle of the blessing, he stopped and said that he felt impressed to bless me through Gordon. He said that through Gordon's service, I would be blessed and that my health would be restored. This was a powerful testimony to me that my Heavenly Father knows me and my situation. Even though it gets hard, I know that He is guiding me and has a plan for me. Patience is hard, but I'm learning.
In July, my brother Bill was here for testing to be my donor. On the third day of testing, he got a phone call that he was not going to be able to donate as he had the same multiple artery issue that my sister Michelle had. That same day my brother Andy called. He said, "Word on the street is that you need a kidney." :)
He was a perfect match for me, and came to Arizona for further testing. He went through all four days of testing, and was told by a surgeon on the last day he was here that there shouldn't be a problem using his kidneys. He was told that he had the same multiple artery issue, but that there was one artery that could work. We would know for sure if he would be accepted the following Tuesday after the selection committee met.
We got a call on Tuesday and were told that the committee decided to try and find a better donor. Andy would be a "plan B" if we couldn't find a better donor. So--we were back to square one.
I had a few people ask for information on becoming my donor, and my Aunt Sarah is another perfect match. The next step is to see if she has the same artery issue that my siblings have. I've fasted and prayed so hard that the perfect kidney would present itself. Maybe this time--finally--will be it.
Sometimes I feel like I'm alone in this, and it just gets so hard. I just want so badly for this to be over with. I would love to not have to go to dialysis anymore. I would love to feel good and have energy to get through the day. I'm tired of trying to be strong all of the time. I try to keep a smile on my face and tell myself that it's going to be okay, but it gets tough sometimes. I just found out that the October 31 surgery date I was hoping to keep is no longer possible. It seems like every time we have to reschedule it ends up being another three months. I just don't want to wait that long.
A couple of weeks ago, Gordon was called to be the executive secretary to our bishop and was set apart by our stake president. While he was in the middle of the blessing, he stopped and said that he felt impressed to bless me through Gordon. He said that through Gordon's service, I would be blessed and that my health would be restored. This was a powerful testimony to me that my Heavenly Father knows me and my situation. Even though it gets hard, I know that He is guiding me and has a plan for me. Patience is hard, but I'm learning.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
The Dog Days of Dialysis
Once again, it's been more than a few days since I've posted. I think about it all of the time...thinking of things I'd like to write about, thoughts I'm having...but I never seem to get around to getting the laptop out and typing away.
It's been a rough couple of months.
In May I had another CT scan to check the status of the arteries in my abdomen. They have become blocked so many times in the past few years that I almost expect something to be wrong. I have been on Plavix and Coumadin the since November 2011, and I think that is helping. Following the CT scan, my nurse called and said that the surgeon wanted to do an angiogram to more closely evaluate the blood flow in those arteries.
I had that procedure done at the end of May, and it was not as easy as we'd hoped. I have so much scar tissue in my femoral artery area that the surgeon couldn't access my arteries. He had to go in through my left arm. Very strange. Anyway--he didn't have any definite answers for Gordon, but said that it would be up to the transplant team to decide if we were good to go for our July 31 surgery date.
At this time, my sister Michelle was still slated to be my donor, and had been since November 2011. We have been waiting for my complications to clear up before we could proceed, and were finally ready to go.
Gordon and I spent some time together over Memorial Day weekend, and I told him that I just felt that something was wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it just didn't feel right. I even talked to him about what would happen if I couldn't ever get a transplant.
The next day I emailed my nurse and asked her if I could just get a confirmation that we were good to go and that there weren't going to be any more hang ups. I was so tired of getting just before the transplant date and finding out that something was wrong. She emailed me back and said, "The doctor will call you." Uh-oh. He called me later that day and told me that he didn't feel comfortable using my sister's kidney any longer. She has multiple blood vessels coming from her kidneys--something that 10% of the population has--and the surgeon really wants an ideal kidney for me...one with one artery and one vein. Why he couldn't have said this sooner, I don't know. He must have seen something in the angiogram that concerned him.
We discussed my options, and I told him that I had other possible donors. They said that they would do everything in their power to keep the July 31 transplant date, and would try to get the testing done right away. I called my brother Bill and asked him if he'd call and offer. I'm so grateful that he was willing and able. He took the blood test and was a match.
We scheduled the testing for the week before the surgery--which had been moved up to July 24! Bill and his son Ammon flew in from Texas and the testing began Monday. Everything was going along really well. Bill is in excellent health, and I was so confident that things would finally work out. Wednesday he had his CT scan. While we were driving back to Prescott Valley from Mayo that afternoon, he got the call that he has the same blood vessel issue as Michelle, and would therefore not be a good donor for me. I was pretty devastated. I was just so sure this time. What are the odds that both of my siblings would have this same RARE issue?
After crying the entire way home, and then crying some more when Courtnie met me in the garage to give me the world's biggest hug, I realized that I just needed to be more proactive. In the past, people would offer to donate a kidney to me and I would tell them that I was taken care of. I have six siblings, and I just knew one of them would have a kidney that would work. After finding out that Bill's kidney wouldn't work, I knew that I just needed to start accepting the offers and letting the Lord take care of the rest.
The following day, at least ten people called in to Mayo asking for the blood test kit. I know that there are more people that I don't even know of who have called. I can't believe it, and am so honored that there are people who are so willing to give. I just feel so blessed.
I found out Friday that my brother Andy is a match. While I'm excited and SO grateful, I'm also a little nervous. I just don't want to get my hopes up again. I don't know how much more I can take. I'm just hoping that his blood vessels are compatible.
The last couple of dialysis treatments I've had have been so hard on me. I'm not sure why, but it seems to be getting worse. I dry heave almost the entire time, and have a splitting headache afterwards. I feel so completely drained of energy. Yesterday the thought came to me that it's probably a little bit like how Superman feels when he's around kryptonite. (Not that I'm Superman, but it gives you a little better visual of how it feels.) This "kryptonite" feeling lasts for at least 24 hours following treatment. All I want to do is sleep.
Mostly, I'm just tired of being in this holding pattern. I feel I can't make any plans, any promises, or have any kind of future. I feel like an idiot every time I have a surgery date fall through. I'm tired of telling people that it just didn't work this time. I want to remember again what it feels like to feel good. I don't even remember the last time I had energy to do much of anything. I want to be a good mom and a good wife. I know it will happen, I have faith that it will happen, I just want it to happen soon! :)
It's been a rough couple of months.
In May I had another CT scan to check the status of the arteries in my abdomen. They have become blocked so many times in the past few years that I almost expect something to be wrong. I have been on Plavix and Coumadin the since November 2011, and I think that is helping. Following the CT scan, my nurse called and said that the surgeon wanted to do an angiogram to more closely evaluate the blood flow in those arteries.
I had that procedure done at the end of May, and it was not as easy as we'd hoped. I have so much scar tissue in my femoral artery area that the surgeon couldn't access my arteries. He had to go in through my left arm. Very strange. Anyway--he didn't have any definite answers for Gordon, but said that it would be up to the transplant team to decide if we were good to go for our July 31 surgery date.
At this time, my sister Michelle was still slated to be my donor, and had been since November 2011. We have been waiting for my complications to clear up before we could proceed, and were finally ready to go.
Gordon and I spent some time together over Memorial Day weekend, and I told him that I just felt that something was wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it just didn't feel right. I even talked to him about what would happen if I couldn't ever get a transplant.
The next day I emailed my nurse and asked her if I could just get a confirmation that we were good to go and that there weren't going to be any more hang ups. I was so tired of getting just before the transplant date and finding out that something was wrong. She emailed me back and said, "The doctor will call you." Uh-oh. He called me later that day and told me that he didn't feel comfortable using my sister's kidney any longer. She has multiple blood vessels coming from her kidneys--something that 10% of the population has--and the surgeon really wants an ideal kidney for me...one with one artery and one vein. Why he couldn't have said this sooner, I don't know. He must have seen something in the angiogram that concerned him.
We discussed my options, and I told him that I had other possible donors. They said that they would do everything in their power to keep the July 31 transplant date, and would try to get the testing done right away. I called my brother Bill and asked him if he'd call and offer. I'm so grateful that he was willing and able. He took the blood test and was a match.
We scheduled the testing for the week before the surgery--which had been moved up to July 24! Bill and his son Ammon flew in from Texas and the testing began Monday. Everything was going along really well. Bill is in excellent health, and I was so confident that things would finally work out. Wednesday he had his CT scan. While we were driving back to Prescott Valley from Mayo that afternoon, he got the call that he has the same blood vessel issue as Michelle, and would therefore not be a good donor for me. I was pretty devastated. I was just so sure this time. What are the odds that both of my siblings would have this same RARE issue?
After crying the entire way home, and then crying some more when Courtnie met me in the garage to give me the world's biggest hug, I realized that I just needed to be more proactive. In the past, people would offer to donate a kidney to me and I would tell them that I was taken care of. I have six siblings, and I just knew one of them would have a kidney that would work. After finding out that Bill's kidney wouldn't work, I knew that I just needed to start accepting the offers and letting the Lord take care of the rest.
The following day, at least ten people called in to Mayo asking for the blood test kit. I know that there are more people that I don't even know of who have called. I can't believe it, and am so honored that there are people who are so willing to give. I just feel so blessed.
I found out Friday that my brother Andy is a match. While I'm excited and SO grateful, I'm also a little nervous. I just don't want to get my hopes up again. I don't know how much more I can take. I'm just hoping that his blood vessels are compatible.
The last couple of dialysis treatments I've had have been so hard on me. I'm not sure why, but it seems to be getting worse. I dry heave almost the entire time, and have a splitting headache afterwards. I feel so completely drained of energy. Yesterday the thought came to me that it's probably a little bit like how Superman feels when he's around kryptonite. (Not that I'm Superman, but it gives you a little better visual of how it feels.) This "kryptonite" feeling lasts for at least 24 hours following treatment. All I want to do is sleep.
Mostly, I'm just tired of being in this holding pattern. I feel I can't make any plans, any promises, or have any kind of future. I feel like an idiot every time I have a surgery date fall through. I'm tired of telling people that it just didn't work this time. I want to remember again what it feels like to feel good. I don't even remember the last time I had energy to do much of anything. I want to be a good mom and a good wife. I know it will happen, I have faith that it will happen, I just want it to happen soon! :)
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Parenting Teenagers
It's a scientific fact that teenagers are ill-equipped to handle their own lives. The part of their brain that controls rational thought and seeing the final outcome of decisions is not fully developed until you are in your early 20s. This is why they are risk-takers, are often hostile and irrational, and are extremely selfish. It's not really their fault, it's just the way they're hard-wired. Teaching teenagers for fifteen years has taught me that this is true. There have been a few exceptions throughout the years, but for the most part it's fairly universal.
I thought that teaching teenagers would give me greater insight into being a parent of one--when the time came. Boy, was I wrong. While I theoretically know why my teenager acts the way he does, I still can't comprehend it. It seems like overnight he has gone from being a sweet, loving boy who was very sensitive to the feelings of others to a moody young man who only cares about himself (and thinks that his dad and I only exist to put limits on what he can and can't do.)
Our latest drama revolves around him wanting to go to our town's skate park. He has friends from school who go there regularly to skateboard, but I know for a fact that so much more goes on there than just skating. It's also located by the soccer fields where Courtnie had practice last year, and I would often sit and watch the teenagers that hung out there. Most of them smoked, the girls dressed like hoochie-mamas, and the foul language was abundant. I have heard that drug deals and gang activity happens there, and there are frequent fights and other unsavory activity.
Our son is a good kid--he has tried hard his whole life to make good choices and he has our trust. While I don't believe that he would engage in the activity that goes on there, I just don't feel right about allowing him to go and hang out in that environment. I know that I can't protect him from all of the evil that goes on in the world, but I feel like it's my job to save him where I can. When his dad talked to him last night and presented different scenarios that could happen to him while he was there, he didn't have a clear "what would you do" answer.
I've always hated the term "peer pressure," but I do know that it is REAL. Even the most stalwart of youth can be persuaded to do wrong if put in a situation where they want to save face. It's a parent's job to see situations through to their final conclusion and to help their children see that every action has a consequence. I know that children need to learn some things the "hard way," but if I can help him avoid heartache, I would certainly like to try.
Children don't come with owner's manuals or instructions. Gordon and I have made mistakes as parents, and I am sure we will make many more, but we are trying so hard. Our family has been reading the Book of Mormon the past few months, and I am reading it with a different perspective as a parent. 1 Nephi was especially helpful, as Lehi deals with his two rebellious sons. It was a perfect parenting manual, and has helped me to understand how to deal with difficult situations. I'm so grateful for the scriptures--a solution to all of life's problems can be found therein.
So in between wanting to pull my hair out in frustration, worrying constantly, and being happy for his progress and accomplishments, we're getting through. I love him. I think he knows that, and I hope that some day he will look back at this time and know that his dad and I only had his best interest at heart.
I thought that teaching teenagers would give me greater insight into being a parent of one--when the time came. Boy, was I wrong. While I theoretically know why my teenager acts the way he does, I still can't comprehend it. It seems like overnight he has gone from being a sweet, loving boy who was very sensitive to the feelings of others to a moody young man who only cares about himself (and thinks that his dad and I only exist to put limits on what he can and can't do.)
Our latest drama revolves around him wanting to go to our town's skate park. He has friends from school who go there regularly to skateboard, but I know for a fact that so much more goes on there than just skating. It's also located by the soccer fields where Courtnie had practice last year, and I would often sit and watch the teenagers that hung out there. Most of them smoked, the girls dressed like hoochie-mamas, and the foul language was abundant. I have heard that drug deals and gang activity happens there, and there are frequent fights and other unsavory activity.
Our son is a good kid--he has tried hard his whole life to make good choices and he has our trust. While I don't believe that he would engage in the activity that goes on there, I just don't feel right about allowing him to go and hang out in that environment. I know that I can't protect him from all of the evil that goes on in the world, but I feel like it's my job to save him where I can. When his dad talked to him last night and presented different scenarios that could happen to him while he was there, he didn't have a clear "what would you do" answer.
I've always hated the term "peer pressure," but I do know that it is REAL. Even the most stalwart of youth can be persuaded to do wrong if put in a situation where they want to save face. It's a parent's job to see situations through to their final conclusion and to help their children see that every action has a consequence. I know that children need to learn some things the "hard way," but if I can help him avoid heartache, I would certainly like to try.
Children don't come with owner's manuals or instructions. Gordon and I have made mistakes as parents, and I am sure we will make many more, but we are trying so hard. Our family has been reading the Book of Mormon the past few months, and I am reading it with a different perspective as a parent. 1 Nephi was especially helpful, as Lehi deals with his two rebellious sons. It was a perfect parenting manual, and has helped me to understand how to deal with difficult situations. I'm so grateful for the scriptures--a solution to all of life's problems can be found therein.
So in between wanting to pull my hair out in frustration, worrying constantly, and being happy for his progress and accomplishments, we're getting through. I love him. I think he knows that, and I hope that some day he will look back at this time and know that his dad and I only had his best interest at heart.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Star Wars Geek
I think that I've seen each of the six Star Wars movies about 50 times each. When I was teaching Jazz Band, after our concerts we would play the Star Wars Trivial Pursuit game. I had a few "kindred spirits" in the group. :)
Some of my fondest childhood memories revolve around watching movies with my family. We love movies, and I think we all enjoy the Star Wars movies. The Empire Strikes Back was in theaters when I was going through my cancer treatments, and I remember my mom and I stopping to watch it late one night when we were on our way home from the hospital. It was a special treat, as we didn't have a lot of money, and seeing a movie in the theatre was a big deal.
George Lucas is a genius, and I've always believed that if he were to learn about the LDS religion, he would find that his movies have a lot in common with our faith. One of my favorite scenes is in the Empire Strikes Back when Yoda is training Luke on how to recognize the dark side from the good. It is exactly how you recognize the Spirit--when you are at peace. There are too many parallels to mention, and it would all be the "gospel according to Amie," so I won't elaborate any further. :)
I remember seeing all three of the prequels in the theaters. I think we took Ian to see the first episode when he was still in a car seat. He sat very still and watched the entire thing. (Well, at least it looked that way...) While the first two episodes were visually stunning, and helped to flesh out the story of how the characters in the last three episodes came to be, I was rather underwhelmed.
The third episode affected me very much. In fact, I think I cried in the theater the first time I saw it. To watch a person go down that slippery slope to the dark side was difficult for me. It was especially difficult to watch this character I had grown up with go from being an innocent child to someone so evil.
This movie was on TV today and I was again affected by it. What hit me today was how much the Chancellor/Emperor is like Satan. He gained Anakin's trust and then used that friendship and exploited it for his own purposes. He flattered Anakin into believing that his power was the only way to bring peace to the galaxy. In this way the Chancellor was able to get Anakin to turn his back on the good and to do his bidding in destroying the Jedi.
In the Book of Mormon, we learn more about how Satan does this:
2nd Nephi 2:22-23
22 And there are also secret acombinations, even as in times of old, according to the combinations of the bdevil, for he is the founder of all these things; yea, the founder of murder, and cworks of darkness; yea, and he leadeth them by the neck with a flaxen cord, until he bindeth them with his strong cords forever.
In the Doctrine and Covenants, section 10, we learn how he flatters us and leads us to do evil for him.
25 Yea, he saith unto them: aDeceive and lie in wait to catch, that ye may destroy; behold, this is no harm. And thus he flattereth them, and telleth them that it is no sin to blie that they may catch a man in a lie, that they may destroy him.
26 And thus he aflattereth them, and leadeth them along until he draggeth their souls down to bhell; and thus he causeth them to catch themselves in their own csnare.
Am I comparing the gospel of Christ to a Star Wars movie? Absolutely not, but the paralells are interesting and to me are an example of the power of the "dark side" in our lives. It starts small, but soon we are trapped and are led by that flaxen cord down to hell. Recognizing the Spirit in our lives and avoiding those things that would allow us to become ensnared is what will keep us from becoming someone we don't want to be. Happiness is temporary; true joy is forever.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Forever Grateful
I was up late again last night flipping through the channels on TV, and came across a program called "Birth Moms" on TLC. As a mother of two adopted children, I was intrigued. Even though it was midnight, I stayed up and watched.
The show followed three pregnant mothers, ranging in ages from nineteen to twenty-five. Two of them already had children, but were having trouble providing for them and had made the decision to place their unborn children for adoption. They were working with an adoption agency based in my home town of Orem, Utah, and were living there in an apartment complex while they were expecting.
The birth mothers searched through profiles of couples wanting to adopt. One of the birth mothers chose a family right away, and the other struggled with the decision up until the day before she delivered her son. She kept waiting for something to click, and it really never did. The reason she struggled so much is that she really hadn't settled on the decision to place her baby for adoption. Once she gave birth and saw her son, reality hit and she realized that her current situation was just not fitting for a newborn.
Another of the birth mothers told the adoptive parents that she did not want her baby to know that he was adopted. She didn't want him to come and find her later on in life. She wanted to move on and not be reminded of him. I wonder if she just didn't want to deal with the pain.
I didn't give birth to my children, but I know that they are mine just as if I had. The thought of giving them to another family--even if I thought it would be better for them--is extremely painful.
My daughter's birth mother told me that she worried that people would judge her and think that she took the "easy way out." Anyone who thinks that is not only wrong, but incredibly stupid. Placing your child for adoption is the most difficult path to take. Difficult, but incredibly selfless.
Both of my children's birth parents knew that they would place their children for adoption as soon as they found out they were pregnant. They knew that they weren't in a situation to provide a stable home, and knew that we could provide the home with a mother and a father who would love and nurture them. For this I am eternally grateful. Because they thought of their unborn child first, they were able to provide happiness for Gordon and I, and were both able to go on with their lives.
We were only able to meet Ian's birth mother once, but we exchanged letters and pictures for the first year. We sent a letter once a year for several years, but the letters from her stopped and we took that as a sign that she was at peace. If I could see her again, I would thank her for giving us the greatest gift any human being could give to another. Ian is an amazing young man, full of potential and love. His dad and I have done our very best to raise him in a manner that honors her. I hope she would be proud. We're not perfect--by any stretch of the imagination--but we have tried hard to do our best.
While it is up to each individual to decide whether or not to place their child for adoption, I would say that in our situation, it has been nothing but positive for all parties involved. It's not easy, and the pain is real, but time truly does heal all wounds. Adoption allows an unplanned pregnancy to become a blessing.
The show followed three pregnant mothers, ranging in ages from nineteen to twenty-five. Two of them already had children, but were having trouble providing for them and had made the decision to place their unborn children for adoption. They were working with an adoption agency based in my home town of Orem, Utah, and were living there in an apartment complex while they were expecting.
The birth mothers searched through profiles of couples wanting to adopt. One of the birth mothers chose a family right away, and the other struggled with the decision up until the day before she delivered her son. She kept waiting for something to click, and it really never did. The reason she struggled so much is that she really hadn't settled on the decision to place her baby for adoption. Once she gave birth and saw her son, reality hit and she realized that her current situation was just not fitting for a newborn.
Another of the birth mothers told the adoptive parents that she did not want her baby to know that he was adopted. She didn't want him to come and find her later on in life. She wanted to move on and not be reminded of him. I wonder if she just didn't want to deal with the pain.
I didn't give birth to my children, but I know that they are mine just as if I had. The thought of giving them to another family--even if I thought it would be better for them--is extremely painful.
My daughter's birth mother told me that she worried that people would judge her and think that she took the "easy way out." Anyone who thinks that is not only wrong, but incredibly stupid. Placing your child for adoption is the most difficult path to take. Difficult, but incredibly selfless.
Both of my children's birth parents knew that they would place their children for adoption as soon as they found out they were pregnant. They knew that they weren't in a situation to provide a stable home, and knew that we could provide the home with a mother and a father who would love and nurture them. For this I am eternally grateful. Because they thought of their unborn child first, they were able to provide happiness for Gordon and I, and were both able to go on with their lives.
We were only able to meet Ian's birth mother once, but we exchanged letters and pictures for the first year. We sent a letter once a year for several years, but the letters from her stopped and we took that as a sign that she was at peace. If I could see her again, I would thank her for giving us the greatest gift any human being could give to another. Ian is an amazing young man, full of potential and love. His dad and I have done our very best to raise him in a manner that honors her. I hope she would be proud. We're not perfect--by any stretch of the imagination--but we have tried hard to do our best.
While it is up to each individual to decide whether or not to place their child for adoption, I would say that in our situation, it has been nothing but positive for all parties involved. It's not easy, and the pain is real, but time truly does heal all wounds. Adoption allows an unplanned pregnancy to become a blessing.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Once Upon a Time
Every once in a while I spend some time on Pintrest. I've decided that it's pretty much a time-killer, and it makes me covet, but every so often I'll find a great little pin that hits home. This was it for me today.
I love President Uchtdorf. His talks are so personal, and are very timely. I thought this was great way to sum up what life is really all about. I'm so grateful for this knowledge, and for leaders of our Church who are inspired to share it with us.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
What's to Become of Me?
As you may all know, I've been waiting on a kidney transplant for nearly two and a half years. The first issue was mine to resolve, then I got to resolve it again. My viral load was finally low enough for the hepatologist to clear me for transplant in February. I was thrilled!
My sister and I started calling Mayo Clinic trying to schedule the transplant, and we were told that the middle of March would be the most likely date. She was here in Arizona mid-February and was able to get her testing updates done at that time, and we assumed we were good to go.
At the end of February, we were still trying to pinpoint an exact date, and all of a sudden we were getting the runaround. I had an appointment with the head of the transplant department at the end of February, which again, I assumed was just a formality.
You know what they say about the word "assume?" When you do it, you make an "ass" out of "u" and "me." That's pretty much what happened.
After reviewing my file, which he clearly hadn't done before the appointment, and asking me a bunch of ridiculous questions, he told me that we would need to schedule the transplant for sometime in July. He explained (without a shred of compassion) that transplant centers have to maintain a certain rating, and thus are only allowed a certain number of live donor transplant failures every six month period. By the beginning of March, they had already had two. He didn't mention how many they are allowed to have, but I'm sure that was a high number.
(On a side note, a woman in our stake had a kidney transplant on March 20 and it ended up failing as well. They're not in good shape...)
The failure rate for a typical kidney transplant is less than 2%. Because of all of my pre-existing conditions--especially my vascular issues--my chances for failure are 10-15%. Not the greatest odds in the world, but I'm still confident that I will be blessed and that things will go well. The doctor even went one step further and told me that most transplant centers wouldn't even take my case, as the risk for failure was just too high. Thanks so much for THAT information!!
I sat there as he explained all of this to me, and the realization that I had four more months of hell (dialysis) to endure was just too much. I also realized that a July transplant date would make it impossible for me to start teaching on time for this upcoming school year. (School here in Arizona starts the first Monday in August.) I figure that I'd need about a six week recovery period, which puts me into mid-August at the earliest. Another year wasted...
I started to cry a bit, but managed to hold it together until I got to my truck and then the flood gates opened. I don't remember crying that hard in a very long time. I was frustrated, angry, and wanted to hit someone. I tried calling Gordon, but was crying so hard that he couldn't understand me.
It took a couple of weeks to get used to the idea, but I was still angry. As I've said before, I'm not asking to win the lottery, or for a new car, or a bigger house. I just want to be healthy so that I can get back to what I love--what I feel I was placed on this earth to do. We live in a small community, and band director jobs just don't open up every year. There is a middle school position available for the upcoming school year, but I can't see myself interviewing for the job and then saying, "Oh, by the way, I can't start until September."
In the movie version of the musical My Fair Lady, Eliza goes through so much to become a lady. After she attends the state ball and passes the "test," she becomes angry with Henry and asks him, "What's to Become of Me?" She wonders where she belongs, what she can do, and who will accept her. That thought has come to my mind many times over the past couple of months. I registered for classes for fall, and if I really push myself, I can finish my Master's degree by next summer, but then what?
I also keep telling myself the line from The Sound of Music (yes, I watch way too many musicals!), "When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window." I'm trying, and wanting, to believe that, but I also miss the security that my old life provided. Perhaps this is all the test I've been preparing for my entire life. I know that only time will tell.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Where Did I Come From?
One of the greatest questions to ponder is the question, "Where did I come from?" (I know...it ends in a preposition, but it sounds better this way.)
As I was falling asleep last night, and pondering my rather weepy day yesterday, a line from my patriarchal blessing came to my mind. It tells me that before I came here, I knew my elder brother, Jesus Christ, and that I was present and active in the council in heaven. This statement brought me a great deal of comfort, but I had to ask myself if I still knew my Savior. I don't think I'm as close to Him as I could be.
For those of you not familiar with "Mormon Doctrine," I'll sum up what I'm referring to:
We believe that we consist of two separate entities: our spirits and our physical bodies. Our spirits are literally the offspring of our Father in Heaven. We lived with Him before we were given an opportunity to come to earth and get a physical body (through the conception/birth process.) Because we are all spirit children of our Heavenly Father, we are all related--spiritually speaking. This includes our brother, Jesus Christ as well as Satan, who was also a spirit son of our Heavenly Father. (Not to get on a side topic, but other Christian denominations call us a "cult" because we believe this...oh, well.)
Before we came to earth, Heavenly Father presented a plan that included us coming to earth, being tempted, and having wonderful and trying experiences. This could only happen if we came to earth and had a physical body. A key element in this plan is our choice to do good or evil. Because He knew we would make mistakes, he wanted to provide for us a Savior, who would suffer for our sins so that we could ask for forgiveness and be made whole again. The eventual goal for all of us is to return to live with our Father again.
Both Satan and Jesus Christ were present at this meeting, as were we all. Satan spoke up and said that he wanted to force everyone to choose good, and thereby ensuring that all of us would be able to return to His presence. Satan also believed that he should receive the credit/glory for getting us all back.
Jesus spoke second, and said that He would go, and would do the Father's will and that the glory and honor would go to the Father, as Jesus wanted none of it for himself.
When our Father chose Jesus to be our Savior, Satan became angry and was dismissed from Father's presence. He left, and took one-third of the spirit children with him. Because these spirits chose to follow Satan, they never got the opportunity to gain a body. I believe that they are extremely jealous of us, and do all they can to make us miserable like them.
Our Savior came to earth, gained a body, and had some amazing experiences. Some were so beautiful and spiritual that we may can't comprehend them. Some were equally painful and difficult. We have been taught that He had to suffer everything so that He could understand our suffering. As bad as I think I have it sometimes, I need to remember that there is One who understands exactly what I am going through. He has been through it, and will be there with me every step of the way and through every tear.
I know I've posted this hymn in the past, but it is one of my favorites, and it has brought me so much peace.
Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When, with a wounded heart, anger, or malice
I draw myself apart searching my soul?
Where, when my aching grows?
Where, when I languish?
Where, in my need to know?
Where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.
He answers privately.
Reaches my reaching.
In my Gethsemane, Savior, and friend.
Gentle, the peace He finds
For my beseeching.
Constant He is, and kind.
Love without end.
I know that in my own little Gethsemane, I can find peace and solace for my aching heart in one place. I will forever be grateful for Him, and seek to develop a better relationship.
As I was falling asleep last night, and pondering my rather weepy day yesterday, a line from my patriarchal blessing came to my mind. It tells me that before I came here, I knew my elder brother, Jesus Christ, and that I was present and active in the council in heaven. This statement brought me a great deal of comfort, but I had to ask myself if I still knew my Savior. I don't think I'm as close to Him as I could be.
For those of you not familiar with "Mormon Doctrine," I'll sum up what I'm referring to:
We believe that we consist of two separate entities: our spirits and our physical bodies. Our spirits are literally the offspring of our Father in Heaven. We lived with Him before we were given an opportunity to come to earth and get a physical body (through the conception/birth process.) Because we are all spirit children of our Heavenly Father, we are all related--spiritually speaking. This includes our brother, Jesus Christ as well as Satan, who was also a spirit son of our Heavenly Father. (Not to get on a side topic, but other Christian denominations call us a "cult" because we believe this...oh, well.)
Before we came to earth, Heavenly Father presented a plan that included us coming to earth, being tempted, and having wonderful and trying experiences. This could only happen if we came to earth and had a physical body. A key element in this plan is our choice to do good or evil. Because He knew we would make mistakes, he wanted to provide for us a Savior, who would suffer for our sins so that we could ask for forgiveness and be made whole again. The eventual goal for all of us is to return to live with our Father again.
Both Satan and Jesus Christ were present at this meeting, as were we all. Satan spoke up and said that he wanted to force everyone to choose good, and thereby ensuring that all of us would be able to return to His presence. Satan also believed that he should receive the credit/glory for getting us all back.
Jesus spoke second, and said that He would go, and would do the Father's will and that the glory and honor would go to the Father, as Jesus wanted none of it for himself.
When our Father chose Jesus to be our Savior, Satan became angry and was dismissed from Father's presence. He left, and took one-third of the spirit children with him. Because these spirits chose to follow Satan, they never got the opportunity to gain a body. I believe that they are extremely jealous of us, and do all they can to make us miserable like them.
Our Savior came to earth, gained a body, and had some amazing experiences. Some were so beautiful and spiritual that we may can't comprehend them. Some were equally painful and difficult. We have been taught that He had to suffer everything so that He could understand our suffering. As bad as I think I have it sometimes, I need to remember that there is One who understands exactly what I am going through. He has been through it, and will be there with me every step of the way and through every tear.
I know I've posted this hymn in the past, but it is one of my favorites, and it has brought me so much peace.
Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When, with a wounded heart, anger, or malice
I draw myself apart searching my soul?
Where, when my aching grows?
Where, when I languish?
Where, in my need to know?
Where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.
He answers privately.
Reaches my reaching.
In my Gethsemane, Savior, and friend.
Gentle, the peace He finds
For my beseeching.
Constant He is, and kind.
Love without end.
I know that in my own little Gethsemane, I can find peace and solace for my aching heart in one place. I will forever be grateful for Him, and seek to develop a better relationship.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
My Life is a Gift
A Primary song I remember teaching a few years back keeps coming to my mind today. Wanna hear it? Here it goes: (You'll have to add the notes yourself...)
My life is a gift, my life has a plan
My life has a purpose, in heaven it began
My choice was to come to this lovely home on earth
And seek for God's light to direct me from birth.
I will follow God's plan for me
Holding fast to His words and His love
I will work, and I will pray
I will always walk in His ways
Then I will be happy on earth, and in my home above.
In the last couple of days, I have received some lovely Facebook posts from former students. They both thanked me for my contribution to their lives. It's funny how a simple suggestion like, "Hey--you could play the cymbals/tuba/etc." can change people's lives. One of my former students, now a college freshmen is writing a paper about a pivotal moment in her life, and said that the moment I asked her to join the drumline was that moment.
I started to cry last night when I read what she wrote to me. I miss having that kind of influence on young people. I hate sitting around, feeling sick and feeling worthless. I feel like I'm just taking up space, and it annoys the crap out of me. It's easy to say that I have other things I am doing right now that are just as important. I tell myself that there is a purpose for this time in my life...my "career hiatus." Maybe if I had more faith I would know what it is.
I'm tired. I'm tired of feeling tired. I'm tired of not feeling like doing anything; feeling like spending the entire day in bed; not feeling good enough to go shopping with my daughter or even make dinner. I'm tired of having to rely on my amazing husband for everything from grocery shopping to laundry. I just wish more than anything that things were different. This is not what I had planned...
The "pat" answer to all of this is that life doesn't always work out the way you want it to. I know that. I know that there is Someone Else in charge, and that I'm on His timeline. I just needed a moment to pout and feel sorry for myself. Sometimes it's hard to put on your "big girl panties" and move on. Sometimes a good cry is in order.
I just want so badly for this to be over so that I can get back to what I've planned for my life. I'm not asking for much--just the capacity to do good and to be an influence in the lives of others. It's not even a selfish request, it's just an answer to a simple, heartfelt prayer.
My life is a gift, my life has a plan
My life has a purpose, in heaven it began
My choice was to come to this lovely home on earth
And seek for God's light to direct me from birth.
I will follow God's plan for me
Holding fast to His words and His love
I will work, and I will pray
I will always walk in His ways
Then I will be happy on earth, and in my home above.
In the last couple of days, I have received some lovely Facebook posts from former students. They both thanked me for my contribution to their lives. It's funny how a simple suggestion like, "Hey--you could play the cymbals/tuba/etc." can change people's lives. One of my former students, now a college freshmen is writing a paper about a pivotal moment in her life, and said that the moment I asked her to join the drumline was that moment.
I started to cry last night when I read what she wrote to me. I miss having that kind of influence on young people. I hate sitting around, feeling sick and feeling worthless. I feel like I'm just taking up space, and it annoys the crap out of me. It's easy to say that I have other things I am doing right now that are just as important. I tell myself that there is a purpose for this time in my life...my "career hiatus." Maybe if I had more faith I would know what it is.
I'm tired. I'm tired of feeling tired. I'm tired of not feeling like doing anything; feeling like spending the entire day in bed; not feeling good enough to go shopping with my daughter or even make dinner. I'm tired of having to rely on my amazing husband for everything from grocery shopping to laundry. I just wish more than anything that things were different. This is not what I had planned...
The "pat" answer to all of this is that life doesn't always work out the way you want it to. I know that. I know that there is Someone Else in charge, and that I'm on His timeline. I just needed a moment to pout and feel sorry for myself. Sometimes it's hard to put on your "big girl panties" and move on. Sometimes a good cry is in order.
I just want so badly for this to be over so that I can get back to what I've planned for my life. I'm not asking for much--just the capacity to do good and to be an influence in the lives of others. It's not even a selfish request, it's just an answer to a simple, heartfelt prayer.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
This is a Test, This is Only a Test...
Last Saturday, Ian (reluctantly) went on a hike with his wrestling team. He did not want to go, and murmured about it all morning. As we were driving to the meeting point, I encouraged him to make the best of things and to realize that everything he was doing was only making him stronger. I told him to imagine his next opponent with every step that he took.
After I dropped him off and was on my way home, I thought of challenges that we all face. Growing up as a member of the LDS church, in Sunday School we were often asked, "Why are we here?" The pat answer was "to gain a body and to be tested." Although I believed that to be true, I hadn't really thought about it.
Being tested is something that is near and dear to my heart lately, but I know that I am not the only one. One of my cousins has a sister-in-law who just lost her 1 1/2 year old son in a tragic accident. Her blog is amazing: http://inthequietheartishidden.blogspot.com/. Full of heartfelt despair, but also hope and such a strong testimony of eternal families. Her test makes my current situation seem rather insignificant. I can't begin to comprehend losing a child.
I got more bad news yesterday. My hepatitis B count has gone up--again. Only ten points this time, but it's still headed in the wrong direction. I feel like I've been on a roller coaster for the past two years and all the time I'm yelling "LET ME OFF!!" at the top of my lungs. I just wish I had answers...
Nevertheless...this is what I believe:
The reason we are here on earth is to gain a body, have wonderful life-experiences, and be tested...a lot. I believe that without the hard times that those tests bring, we wouldn't know true joy. I believe with absolute certainty that if I hadn't had cancer as a child that I wouldn't be the person I am today. I also believe that even though I am in the middle of a pretty big test right now, I will one day look back on this time with gratitude for the lessons I learned. I'm already recognizing blessings that could have only come from a loving Heavenly Father. I know He knows me, I know He loves me, and I know that He weeps with me during my lowest moments. I'm so grateful for this knowledge, and I can't imagine going through life without it.
After I dropped him off and was on my way home, I thought of challenges that we all face. Growing up as a member of the LDS church, in Sunday School we were often asked, "Why are we here?" The pat answer was "to gain a body and to be tested." Although I believed that to be true, I hadn't really thought about it.
Being tested is something that is near and dear to my heart lately, but I know that I am not the only one. One of my cousins has a sister-in-law who just lost her 1 1/2 year old son in a tragic accident. Her blog is amazing: http://inthequietheartishidden.blogspot.com/. Full of heartfelt despair, but also hope and such a strong testimony of eternal families. Her test makes my current situation seem rather insignificant. I can't begin to comprehend losing a child.
I got more bad news yesterday. My hepatitis B count has gone up--again. Only ten points this time, but it's still headed in the wrong direction. I feel like I've been on a roller coaster for the past two years and all the time I'm yelling "LET ME OFF!!" at the top of my lungs. I just wish I had answers...
Nevertheless...this is what I believe:
The reason we are here on earth is to gain a body, have wonderful life-experiences, and be tested...a lot. I believe that without the hard times that those tests bring, we wouldn't know true joy. I believe with absolute certainty that if I hadn't had cancer as a child that I wouldn't be the person I am today. I also believe that even though I am in the middle of a pretty big test right now, I will one day look back on this time with gratitude for the lessons I learned. I'm already recognizing blessings that could have only come from a loving Heavenly Father. I know He knows me, I know He loves me, and I know that He weeps with me during my lowest moments. I'm so grateful for this knowledge, and I can't imagine going through life without it.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
A Bitter Pill
Throughout my teaching career, I would occasionally have parents who would call with complaints. They would range from "You're not treating my child fairly," to "The concert last night was terrible." As I take my profession very personally, these comments would hurt me deeply. I made a vow to never become one of "those parents" when my children were the same age.
My son is now in high school--a big step for any adolescent. While he's been largely successful, we've had to work together to learn different study techniques, and most importantly--how to manage his time. He tends to get impatient with himself and gets frustrated easily, and so the majority of my time with him is reassuring him that if he works hard, things will work out for the best. He's been pretty busy with sports since school started, first with football and now with wrestling. He starts his day at 6:15 with early-morning Seminary and doesn't get home until 5:30. It's a long day for anyone, let alone a fourteen year-old boy.
My frustration has been with wrestling. He has been wrestling for the past four years, and has been pretty successful. His dad and I have given him every opportunity to develop his talent--we've taken him to wrestling camps every summer and to off-season tournaments. Because of his successes, I thought for sure that he would be participating on the varsity wrestling team this year.
His coach thinks otherwise, and has put him on the freshmen team. He's undefeated thus far, and has won four out of his five matches by pin. I don't know that many of his matches have been much of a challenge for him. On the one hand, I'm glad that he's having successes, but on the other hand, he needs to be challenged.
Yesterday he stayed home sick. He does this at least a couple of times a month...he comes in to my room and says he feels like he's going to puke and feels dizzy. In my opinion, this is one of the toughest things about being a mom--do you send them to school or keep them home? Could he have gone to school and been okay? He stayed home, slept and did some homework. When his dad left to go to wrestling practice, Ian stayed home, saying he still wasn't feeling well.
When Gordon came home from practice yesterday, he said that the head coach said that if you weren't well enough to practice the day before a meet, you couldn't wrestle. This means Ian can't wrestle in the big rivalry dual today. He was going to be able to wrestle on the varsity team for the first time today. I have a hard time understanding how this is fair. It would be one thing if he stayed home from practice just because he didn't feel like going, but he was sick. Gordon is siding with the head coach, saying that Ian needs to learn how to tough it out, and that not feeling 100% is not a good enough reason to not follow through with your commitments.
While I understand all of this, it's still hard for me to watch my son hurt. I want to protect him from everything, and I know I can't. I want him to have everything he deserves, no matter what the cost. I love him so much, and know he is capable of so much. I know that this is an important life lesson for him, and I hope more than anything he will learn from it. I know it's better that he learn this lesson early on. I only hope that he does.
My son is now in high school--a big step for any adolescent. While he's been largely successful, we've had to work together to learn different study techniques, and most importantly--how to manage his time. He tends to get impatient with himself and gets frustrated easily, and so the majority of my time with him is reassuring him that if he works hard, things will work out for the best. He's been pretty busy with sports since school started, first with football and now with wrestling. He starts his day at 6:15 with early-morning Seminary and doesn't get home until 5:30. It's a long day for anyone, let alone a fourteen year-old boy.
My frustration has been with wrestling. He has been wrestling for the past four years, and has been pretty successful. His dad and I have given him every opportunity to develop his talent--we've taken him to wrestling camps every summer and to off-season tournaments. Because of his successes, I thought for sure that he would be participating on the varsity wrestling team this year.
His coach thinks otherwise, and has put him on the freshmen team. He's undefeated thus far, and has won four out of his five matches by pin. I don't know that many of his matches have been much of a challenge for him. On the one hand, I'm glad that he's having successes, but on the other hand, he needs to be challenged.
Yesterday he stayed home sick. He does this at least a couple of times a month...he comes in to my room and says he feels like he's going to puke and feels dizzy. In my opinion, this is one of the toughest things about being a mom--do you send them to school or keep them home? Could he have gone to school and been okay? He stayed home, slept and did some homework. When his dad left to go to wrestling practice, Ian stayed home, saying he still wasn't feeling well.
When Gordon came home from practice yesterday, he said that the head coach said that if you weren't well enough to practice the day before a meet, you couldn't wrestle. This means Ian can't wrestle in the big rivalry dual today. He was going to be able to wrestle on the varsity team for the first time today. I have a hard time understanding how this is fair. It would be one thing if he stayed home from practice just because he didn't feel like going, but he was sick. Gordon is siding with the head coach, saying that Ian needs to learn how to tough it out, and that not feeling 100% is not a good enough reason to not follow through with your commitments.
While I understand all of this, it's still hard for me to watch my son hurt. I want to protect him from everything, and I know I can't. I want him to have everything he deserves, no matter what the cost. I love him so much, and know he is capable of so much. I know that this is an important life lesson for him, and I hope more than anything he will learn from it. I know it's better that he learn this lesson early on. I only hope that he does.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
About that...
So, I thought I'd write more often.
But then school started for me in October, and I haven't had a second to spare. I felt compelled to write tonight, though. So I'm sacrificing sleep for my blog. See how good I am?
I was officially accepted to my graduate program (Educational Psychology) in mid-August. By this time, all of the classes that area offered for the entire semester were full. Thus, I was forced to take all 9 credit hours in 8 weeks time. It's been hectic, but I have LOVED every minute. I feel a new sense of purpose and it feels good to be doing something productive again. My brain has gone soft over the past couple of years, and it feels good to flex my "smarticles" (as Courtnie calls them) again. I'm doing pretty well. I'm really shooting for an A in all three classes, and I should be able to do it...if I stop second-guessing my answers on my Applied Behavior Management exams! I would have earned a 94 today if I hadn't gone back and changed answers...why do I do that? I ended up getting an 84. Ugh!
The class I'm enjoying the most is my Adolescent Psychology class. The instructor gives us a lot of supplemental assignments and information, and I have found all of it so interesting. Yesterday I watched a documentary on teenage suicide and suicide prevention. A program was implemented at a school in New Jersey that had experienced a rash of teen suicides. I wrote a paper on my reaction to the documentary and the plan they implemented, and really thought a lot about the despair suicidal teens feel.
As a family, we attended the BYU vs. NAU game at our local events center. It was fun to see everyone--one of the members of our ward said that he'd never seen so many Mormons gathered together on one place. I joked that we should just have our Stake Conference after the game. BYU smashed NAU, and it really wasn't much of a game, but it was fun to be together.
While we were at the game, I got an automated phone call from our high school. The principal said that one of the students that attends the high school had passed away yesterday, and that counselors would be available to help at school today. Pretty vague.
Through the magic of Facebook, Ian and I were able to figure out that a sophomore had committed suicide Tuesday night. The timing of this suicide, coupled with my recent paper and learning more about what teen suicide hit me hard. I've never known anyone so young that has committed suicide. I immediately started wondering what would have caused him to feel that there was no other option. Was he bullied? Was he having family problems? And most importantly...could this have been prevented?
According to my textbook, 70% of teens have thought about suicide, and 40% have attempted suicide. This is an amazing statistic. I understand the despair that we all feel from time to time, but I just can't fathom what could have made this sixteen year-old feel that there was no other option. I have thought about this most of the day today. I drove to Phoenix for another blood test and felt so badly that I started to cry. My own thoughts and worries left as I thought about his friends and family and the grief they must be going through today. Life is hard.
I thought I had some good news at the beginning of November when my hepatologist called me to say that my Hepatitis B viral count was now down to 160. He said that he would let the committee know that he's cleared me to proceed with the transplant. I was expecting to receive good news the following Tuesday when the committee met. No such luck. They want me to be at ZERO before they will even schedule the transplant. While I understand their rationale, it's still incredibly frustrating. Michelle and I want so badly to get this over with. It would be nice to have it over with by the end of the year. I had another lab test done today, so hopefully I'm where I need to be.
The wait continues...
But then school started for me in October, and I haven't had a second to spare. I felt compelled to write tonight, though. So I'm sacrificing sleep for my blog. See how good I am?
I was officially accepted to my graduate program (Educational Psychology) in mid-August. By this time, all of the classes that area offered for the entire semester were full. Thus, I was forced to take all 9 credit hours in 8 weeks time. It's been hectic, but I have LOVED every minute. I feel a new sense of purpose and it feels good to be doing something productive again. My brain has gone soft over the past couple of years, and it feels good to flex my "smarticles" (as Courtnie calls them) again. I'm doing pretty well. I'm really shooting for an A in all three classes, and I should be able to do it...if I stop second-guessing my answers on my Applied Behavior Management exams! I would have earned a 94 today if I hadn't gone back and changed answers...why do I do that? I ended up getting an 84. Ugh!
The class I'm enjoying the most is my Adolescent Psychology class. The instructor gives us a lot of supplemental assignments and information, and I have found all of it so interesting. Yesterday I watched a documentary on teenage suicide and suicide prevention. A program was implemented at a school in New Jersey that had experienced a rash of teen suicides. I wrote a paper on my reaction to the documentary and the plan they implemented, and really thought a lot about the despair suicidal teens feel.
As a family, we attended the BYU vs. NAU game at our local events center. It was fun to see everyone--one of the members of our ward said that he'd never seen so many Mormons gathered together on one place. I joked that we should just have our Stake Conference after the game. BYU smashed NAU, and it really wasn't much of a game, but it was fun to be together.
While we were at the game, I got an automated phone call from our high school. The principal said that one of the students that attends the high school had passed away yesterday, and that counselors would be available to help at school today. Pretty vague.
Through the magic of Facebook, Ian and I were able to figure out that a sophomore had committed suicide Tuesday night. The timing of this suicide, coupled with my recent paper and learning more about what teen suicide hit me hard. I've never known anyone so young that has committed suicide. I immediately started wondering what would have caused him to feel that there was no other option. Was he bullied? Was he having family problems? And most importantly...could this have been prevented?
According to my textbook, 70% of teens have thought about suicide, and 40% have attempted suicide. This is an amazing statistic. I understand the despair that we all feel from time to time, but I just can't fathom what could have made this sixteen year-old feel that there was no other option. I have thought about this most of the day today. I drove to Phoenix for another blood test and felt so badly that I started to cry. My own thoughts and worries left as I thought about his friends and family and the grief they must be going through today. Life is hard.
I thought I had some good news at the beginning of November when my hepatologist called me to say that my Hepatitis B viral count was now down to 160. He said that he would let the committee know that he's cleared me to proceed with the transplant. I was expecting to receive good news the following Tuesday when the committee met. No such luck. They want me to be at ZERO before they will even schedule the transplant. While I understand their rationale, it's still incredibly frustrating. Michelle and I want so badly to get this over with. It would be nice to have it over with by the end of the year. I had another lab test done today, so hopefully I'm where I need to be.
The wait continues...
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Up All Night
Some nights I have a difficult time falling asleep. I've been told that this is common in dialysis patients. Some nights I'm eventually able to fall asleep, and others nights I take a couple of Benadryl to help. (Of course, then I'm left with what I love to call a "Benadryl hangover" the next day...)
Last night was one of those nights. It was about 1:30 and I was flipping through the channels on TV in my bedroom. I turned to CMT and this video was starting. I really like Martina McBride, so I stopped and watched. It is so amazing how music and lyrics like this can bring people in similar situations together. Even though this song is specifically about cancer, I think it applies to anyone who has a strong support system.
You need to take a few minutes right now and watch it. (You may need Kleenex handy.)
I have been so fortunate to have the BEST support system around as I have struggled the last two years. I shared the sentiments of the women in the video who say that no one has ever made me feel like a burden...especially Gordon. He never complains when he has to do more than his fair share of the housework, clean up my puke bucket, or listen to me whine. He has been given the strength to get through this, and to help me get through it as well. I don't know how I got so lucky, but I am grateful every day of my life.
Dr. Vargas called yesterday and said I'm not a mutant after all. My Hep B virus strain is not drug resistant, which--in the long run--is good news. I'm going to start taking two different anti-viral meds and we're hoping that will kick the virus' butt. I know I've said this a million times before, but I'm SOOOO ready! The more I've thought about it, the better I feel that, although a set back is hard, it will be better to make sure all is completely well before I get the kidney from Michelle. I would feel so terrible to waste it because I was impatient.
At Courtnie's school, they are required to memorize a poem and recite it to the class each quarter. The teacher selects the poem, and some of them have been quite interesting. Courtnie is doing her recitation today with the poem, "Pancake Collector." It's a cute one, and she's loved memorizing it. She was getting ready this morning and went into my bathroom for a while. When she came out, she had curled her hair for the first time on her own. It looked great! I don't think I did as good a job my first time using a curling iron. What a cutie! I love her so much.
We're going to Utah this weekend for Tyler's baptism. I need to start getting things ready, but Ben Hur is on TV, so I'm not. Oh well...maybe tomorrow. :)
Sunday, October 2, 2011
I'm Baaaack!
I've made a resolution to blog more often, and I'm starting today. Hopefully this resolution will last longer than all of my New Year's resolutions! :)
Truth is...I haven't written lately because I've been feeling pretty sorry for myself. I have gone through several weeks where I've just cried for no particular reason. A couple of weeks ago, I showed up early for dialysis (thinking I could get in early) and ended up waiting for about an hour. During that time, I watched some of the other dialysis patients come and go. All of them looked so sick. One lady--just a little older than me--sat waiting for her ride for quite a while. After waiting for about 30 minutes, she ended up crying because she was in so much pain. She called her husband, and he wouldn't come and pick her up, so they had to call and ambulance to come and take her to the hospital.
For some reason, this really affected me. By the time I got into my dialysis room (aka, "The Fishbowl"--I have to go into a "special room" that is isolated from the rest of the patients so I don't accidentally infect them with my Hep B germs) I was pretty distraught. I just started sobbing. I recalled the scene from the movie, "As Good As It Gets" where Jack Nicholson comes out of his psychiatrist's office, looks at the patients waiting in the lobby, and asks, "What if this is as good as it gets?"
That thought has been on my mind quite a bit over the last couple of weeks...hence the pity party. A couple of weeks ago I found out that instead of the Hep B virus count going down, like it's supposed to on this medicine, it is--in fact--going UP. Dr. Vargas is baffled, and ordered a lab test to determine what is up with the virus. He said I may have a strain that has mutated and has become drug-resistant. If this is the case, my current viral count may be as good as we're going to get and we can proceed with the transplant. This is risky, as the immuno-suppressant drugs I'll take after transplant could allow the virus to rapidly multiply and kill my liver. Either way, I'm not living the life I want to live right now, and why prolong this if it's not going to get better. With a healthy kidney, I can take a combination of drugs and hopefully kill off the virus.
I've been waiting on the results for two and a half weeks now. I was supposed to get the results last week, but Dr. Vargas was out of town. Ugh! I should hear tomorrow. I know that both of us would like a resolution to this issue. As Gordon told me a while back, "It would seem that your life is not destined to be easy." He was kidding, but that's the understatement of the year!
Ian and Gordon have been busy with football. They practice every day until 6:00 and their games are usually on Wednesdays. It's been fun to watch Ian improve. He played quite a bit the last game, playing both offense and defense and kicking. It's like a switch has gone off in his head and he has decided that tackling someone can be fun. He enjoys playing on the defense, as it gives him a chance to tackle people more often. I'm glad he's starting to feel successful, as he didn't feel that way at the beginning of the season.
Courtnie has been playing soccer for about a month now. She's never really played an organized sport before, and it has been interesting to watch her grow. She seems to enjoy it, even though her team has played four games and has yet to score even one goal. I'm glad that she's getting some exercise and is making new friends. She's also taking piano lessons, and is doing very well. She is always happy to practice and wants to do well at her lessons. (It doesn't hurt that her piano teacher is awesome!)
The last two days have been awesome. I love watching General Conference and hearing the words of our church leaders. It started early--with the first talk by Elder Richard G. Scott. He talked of the importance of using the scriptures in our daily lives:
"To memorize a scripture is to forge a new friendship," he said. "It is like discovering a new individual who can help in time of need, give inspiration and comfort and be a source of motivation for needed change."
As individuals ponder the scriptures, they are able to find direction and form a foundation of support. Scriptures provide an incredibly large resource of willing friends who can help, Elder Scott said.
"Pondering a passage of scripture can be a key to unlock revelation and the guidance and inspiration of the Holy Ghost," he said. "Scripture can calm an agitated soul, giving peace, hope and a restoration of confidence in one's ability to overcome the challenges of life. They have potent power to heal emotional challenges when there is faith in the Savior. They can accelerate physical healing."
I have experienced this first-hand recently. In our Gospel Doctrine class a couple of weeks ago, we were reading in 2nd Corinthians, chapter 1. It reads:
3 Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;
4 Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.
5 For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.
6 And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.
7 And our hope of you is stedfast, knowing, that as ye are partakers of the sufferings, so shall ye be also of the consolation.
I sat there reading and re-reading that passage for the majority of the class. Not only is my suffering for my own good, but it is also essential. We all must suffer so that we can have empathy for others' suffering. Perhaps the reason I have been through this trial is so that I can help others. I also took comfort in the fact that Christ knows me, knows my sufferings, and that I will someday find consolation and salvation because of my suffering.
I loved Elder Carl Cook's talk on the counsel President Monson gave him. As Elder Cook looked down in discouragement, the prophet told him, pointing heaven-ward, that it is "always better to look up."
Gordon had to work Saturday night, so I took Ian to the Priesthood session. When I picked him up, he and I talked about the subjects that influenced him the most. He said that several of the leaders talked about being prepared for whatever the Lord needs you to do. Whether it is answering a question about the Church, or being asked to give a blessing, if you aren't spiritually ready, you won't be able to fulfill that responsibility. I'm so proud of my son. He is my spiritual hero.
I loved Sister Dalton's talk to fathers about raising daughters. I thought often of my dad, who was always a listening ear and and one of my biggest cheerleaders. Sister Dalton said that the greatest way a father can love his daughter is to love her mother. This will teach her that the right man will always treat her with love and respect. I wept as I thought of the way my loving husband has treated me for the last twenty years. He has treated me like a queen in every sense of the word. I tell Courtnie often that I hope she can find someone as wonderful as her dad.
President Monson is a wonderful storyteller. I loved watching his facial expressions as he told the story of the five dollar bill and the answer to a young boy's prayer. I can imagine being next to him as he tells stories. His expressions remind me a lot of my Grandpa Cobabe, who was also a great storyteller and a wonderful man. I'm so grateful that the Lord has given us a prophet who is not only a great leader, but is personable and kind.
Above all, I'm grateful to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ permeate everything that I do and everything that I am. I am grateful for the hope it provides to me and my family of a true "happily ever after."
Truth is...I haven't written lately because I've been feeling pretty sorry for myself. I have gone through several weeks where I've just cried for no particular reason. A couple of weeks ago, I showed up early for dialysis (thinking I could get in early) and ended up waiting for about an hour. During that time, I watched some of the other dialysis patients come and go. All of them looked so sick. One lady--just a little older than me--sat waiting for her ride for quite a while. After waiting for about 30 minutes, she ended up crying because she was in so much pain. She called her husband, and he wouldn't come and pick her up, so they had to call and ambulance to come and take her to the hospital.
For some reason, this really affected me. By the time I got into my dialysis room (aka, "The Fishbowl"--I have to go into a "special room" that is isolated from the rest of the patients so I don't accidentally infect them with my Hep B germs) I was pretty distraught. I just started sobbing. I recalled the scene from the movie, "As Good As It Gets" where Jack Nicholson comes out of his psychiatrist's office, looks at the patients waiting in the lobby, and asks, "What if this is as good as it gets?"
That thought has been on my mind quite a bit over the last couple of weeks...hence the pity party. A couple of weeks ago I found out that instead of the Hep B virus count going down, like it's supposed to on this medicine, it is--in fact--going UP. Dr. Vargas is baffled, and ordered a lab test to determine what is up with the virus. He said I may have a strain that has mutated and has become drug-resistant. If this is the case, my current viral count may be as good as we're going to get and we can proceed with the transplant. This is risky, as the immuno-suppressant drugs I'll take after transplant could allow the virus to rapidly multiply and kill my liver. Either way, I'm not living the life I want to live right now, and why prolong this if it's not going to get better. With a healthy kidney, I can take a combination of drugs and hopefully kill off the virus.
I've been waiting on the results for two and a half weeks now. I was supposed to get the results last week, but Dr. Vargas was out of town. Ugh! I should hear tomorrow. I know that both of us would like a resolution to this issue. As Gordon told me a while back, "It would seem that your life is not destined to be easy." He was kidding, but that's the understatement of the year!
Ian and Gordon have been busy with football. They practice every day until 6:00 and their games are usually on Wednesdays. It's been fun to watch Ian improve. He played quite a bit the last game, playing both offense and defense and kicking. It's like a switch has gone off in his head and he has decided that tackling someone can be fun. He enjoys playing on the defense, as it gives him a chance to tackle people more often. I'm glad he's starting to feel successful, as he didn't feel that way at the beginning of the season.
Courtnie has been playing soccer for about a month now. She's never really played an organized sport before, and it has been interesting to watch her grow. She seems to enjoy it, even though her team has played four games and has yet to score even one goal. I'm glad that she's getting some exercise and is making new friends. She's also taking piano lessons, and is doing very well. She is always happy to practice and wants to do well at her lessons. (It doesn't hurt that her piano teacher is awesome!)
The last two days have been awesome. I love watching General Conference and hearing the words of our church leaders. It started early--with the first talk by Elder Richard G. Scott. He talked of the importance of using the scriptures in our daily lives:
"To memorize a scripture is to forge a new friendship," he said. "It is like discovering a new individual who can help in time of need, give inspiration and comfort and be a source of motivation for needed change."
As individuals ponder the scriptures, they are able to find direction and form a foundation of support. Scriptures provide an incredibly large resource of willing friends who can help, Elder Scott said.
"Pondering a passage of scripture can be a key to unlock revelation and the guidance and inspiration of the Holy Ghost," he said. "Scripture can calm an agitated soul, giving peace, hope and a restoration of confidence in one's ability to overcome the challenges of life. They have potent power to heal emotional challenges when there is faith in the Savior. They can accelerate physical healing."
I have experienced this first-hand recently. In our Gospel Doctrine class a couple of weeks ago, we were reading in 2nd Corinthians, chapter 1. It reads:
3 Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;
4 Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.
5 For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.
6 And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.
7 And our hope of you is stedfast, knowing, that as ye are partakers of the sufferings, so shall ye be also of the consolation.
I sat there reading and re-reading that passage for the majority of the class. Not only is my suffering for my own good, but it is also essential. We all must suffer so that we can have empathy for others' suffering. Perhaps the reason I have been through this trial is so that I can help others. I also took comfort in the fact that Christ knows me, knows my sufferings, and that I will someday find consolation and salvation because of my suffering.
I loved Elder Carl Cook's talk on the counsel President Monson gave him. As Elder Cook looked down in discouragement, the prophet told him, pointing heaven-ward, that it is "always better to look up."
Gordon had to work Saturday night, so I took Ian to the Priesthood session. When I picked him up, he and I talked about the subjects that influenced him the most. He said that several of the leaders talked about being prepared for whatever the Lord needs you to do. Whether it is answering a question about the Church, or being asked to give a blessing, if you aren't spiritually ready, you won't be able to fulfill that responsibility. I'm so proud of my son. He is my spiritual hero.
I loved Sister Dalton's talk to fathers about raising daughters. I thought often of my dad, who was always a listening ear and and one of my biggest cheerleaders. Sister Dalton said that the greatest way a father can love his daughter is to love her mother. This will teach her that the right man will always treat her with love and respect. I wept as I thought of the way my loving husband has treated me for the last twenty years. He has treated me like a queen in every sense of the word. I tell Courtnie often that I hope she can find someone as wonderful as her dad.
President Monson is a wonderful storyteller. I loved watching his facial expressions as he told the story of the five dollar bill and the answer to a young boy's prayer. I can imagine being next to him as he tells stories. His expressions remind me a lot of my Grandpa Cobabe, who was also a great storyteller and a wonderful man. I'm so grateful that the Lord has given us a prophet who is not only a great leader, but is personable and kind.
Above all, I'm grateful to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ permeate everything that I do and everything that I am. I am grateful for the hope it provides to me and my family of a true "happily ever after."
Friday, August 26, 2011
Because It's Been a While...
One of my friends on Facebook (who happened to be one of my college roommates) nudged me the other day and told me that it was time to update my blog.
To be honest, I just haven't felt like it. I received bad news once again on August 15, and between that and school starting without me, it's been rough.
My viral count dropped from 1,300 to 720, but still not good enough. I'm really tired of getting bad news followed by the phrase, "You're getting closer!" Ugh!
Meanwhile, a few things have happened that have kept me going:
1. At the end of July, I finally got a calling in our new ward. I was called to be the Relief Society secretary. This is a good fit for me, as it's not too demanding, but will keep me busy and involved. I'm grateful to have something to do.
Our bishop called me the week before school started and asked if I'd be able to help a single mom who just moved here from Missouri. She came to Prescott Valley with her three children and literally the clothes on their back and what they could fit in suitcases. They took a Greyhound bus and are living with her mom. She doesn't have a car and didn't have a job. Her marriage fell apart after 20 years, and it sounds like she's had a rough life. Of her entire family, she's the only one who attends church and is the only one to graduate from high school.
I was able to take her to buy clothes and school supplies. While we shopped, she told me of her life's troubles and about her faith that things would turn around. I was so impressed by her dedication to attending church, even if she had to walk every time.
Growing up, my family didn't have a lot of money, and often received help from others. It felt really good to be in a position that I could reciprocate that help. Talking to her also made me realize that even though I am having health issues right now, I am truly blessed. I came home with a happy heart and felt like things were looking up. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself prior to this experience. When talking to my mom, she told me to look for someone to help and that would help eliminate the "wallowing in pity." I'm grateful that our bishop was inspired to ask me to help.
2. The following Sunday, I was called to be the Stake Primary Music Leader. I'm so excited for this calling. During the 20 years Gordon and I have been married, I think I've been in the Primary 15 of those years. I love the children, and music is such an important part of teaching the Gospel.
3. I've registered and enrolled in 9 credit hours of graduate courses in Human Relations/Educational Psychology. Working towards a Master's degree is something I've been needing to do for a while, and I thought I might as well be productive in this year I'm off work. The good news is that I don't start until October 24, and I'm doing all of the classwork online. I'm REALLY hoping that I'll be post-transplant by then and can focus on the work.
4. Ian is doing a great job getting up for seminary every morning. He works hard at football from 2-6, then comes home and does homework before getting to bed. Some days I know he's really tired, but he gets up at 5 am and is ready to go on time. He's had some difficult health issues himself...we've tried treating these terrible warts on his fingers for a year or so now and finally gave up and took him to the dermatologist. He's had three "freezing" treatments, and we're making progress, but each visit is so painful for him. He's also been battling an ingrown toenail for about six weeks, and it eventually became pretty infected. We took him to his pediatrician who sent us to a podiatrist. It's looking 100% better, but the podiatrist told us it may come back. We'll keep an eye on it. It's been fun to be a football mom...we decorated the lockers before their first game this past Wednesday, and I enjoy being Gordon's cheerleader for a change.
5. Courtnie has started the fifth grade off well. She's running for class representative on the student council at her school, and will find out on Monday how she did. She's also started piano again and will be playing soccer for the first time starting next month. She continues to be her goofy, silly self and makes me smile every day.
6. The new band director at BMHS asked me to write the drill for the third song. I agreed, and hope I can do a good job. If it works out, maybe I can put myself out there as a drill writer. I paid someone else $1000 to write our show last year...If I can write a few of those each year, it would help. I'm not sure what next year will hold for me. I can't anticipate any band director openings, so I'm not sure what I'll be doing. I really don't want to sub for the rest of my life! :)
I've been reading The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin. It has made me really evaluate how I act towards others and how I feel in general. One of the "rules" she makes for herself is, "Act how you want to feel." I never feel great, but I have found that when I smile and am happy, I tend to forget how lousy I feel. It's something I'm going to try and work harder at, and I know it will help. It hasn't been easy this week, as I've felt so incredibly lousy, but I'm starting to feel human again and am anxious to put her suggestions to work.
A couple of silly experiences with Ian:
1. We were eating dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings last Friday. The kids went and played a game that gave them a bouncy ball as a prize. Ian and Courtnie were rolling it across the table, and that led to bouncing it across the table. Ian remembered the "bounce the ball in the cup" challenge from the TV show "Minute to Win It." He swears he didn't mean to do it, but with one bounce the ball ended up in Gordon's water cup. We all laughed so hard...well, all of us but Gordon.
2. The next night Ian loaded the dishwasher and started it up. He then came in to my room and we were chatting, as we like to do just before bed. After about 20 minutes, he went to bed, and on the way noticed that there was white foam all over our kitchen floor. He had put dish washing detergent in BOTH cups of the dishwasher, along with the dishwasher tablet we use. He thought we would be so proud of him for making the dishes extra clean. Instead, Ian and I spent the next hour cleaning up soap bubbles that kept pouring out of the dishwasher. After it ran a complete cycle, the bubbles subsided, and we were able to go to bed. Ian was desperately sorry, but I thought it was a great bonding moment, and now he knows the difference between "dish washing" and "dishwasher" soap. :)
So, we're still playing the waiting game. I get tested again on September 9, and should find out results on the 12th or 13th. I continue to be hopeful. After the last disappointing news, I told Gordon that if I could just understand WHY I must continue to wait, I would be okay. I just don't get it, and don't know if I ever will. I just have to continue to pray for strength to endure and the faith to accept what comes.
To be honest, I just haven't felt like it. I received bad news once again on August 15, and between that and school starting without me, it's been rough.
My viral count dropped from 1,300 to 720, but still not good enough. I'm really tired of getting bad news followed by the phrase, "You're getting closer!" Ugh!
Meanwhile, a few things have happened that have kept me going:
1. At the end of July, I finally got a calling in our new ward. I was called to be the Relief Society secretary. This is a good fit for me, as it's not too demanding, but will keep me busy and involved. I'm grateful to have something to do.
Our bishop called me the week before school started and asked if I'd be able to help a single mom who just moved here from Missouri. She came to Prescott Valley with her three children and literally the clothes on their back and what they could fit in suitcases. They took a Greyhound bus and are living with her mom. She doesn't have a car and didn't have a job. Her marriage fell apart after 20 years, and it sounds like she's had a rough life. Of her entire family, she's the only one who attends church and is the only one to graduate from high school.
I was able to take her to buy clothes and school supplies. While we shopped, she told me of her life's troubles and about her faith that things would turn around. I was so impressed by her dedication to attending church, even if she had to walk every time.
Growing up, my family didn't have a lot of money, and often received help from others. It felt really good to be in a position that I could reciprocate that help. Talking to her also made me realize that even though I am having health issues right now, I am truly blessed. I came home with a happy heart and felt like things were looking up. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself prior to this experience. When talking to my mom, she told me to look for someone to help and that would help eliminate the "wallowing in pity." I'm grateful that our bishop was inspired to ask me to help.
2. The following Sunday, I was called to be the Stake Primary Music Leader. I'm so excited for this calling. During the 20 years Gordon and I have been married, I think I've been in the Primary 15 of those years. I love the children, and music is such an important part of teaching the Gospel.
3. I've registered and enrolled in 9 credit hours of graduate courses in Human Relations/Educational Psychology. Working towards a Master's degree is something I've been needing to do for a while, and I thought I might as well be productive in this year I'm off work. The good news is that I don't start until October 24, and I'm doing all of the classwork online. I'm REALLY hoping that I'll be post-transplant by then and can focus on the work.
4. Ian is doing a great job getting up for seminary every morning. He works hard at football from 2-6, then comes home and does homework before getting to bed. Some days I know he's really tired, but he gets up at 5 am and is ready to go on time. He's had some difficult health issues himself...we've tried treating these terrible warts on his fingers for a year or so now and finally gave up and took him to the dermatologist. He's had three "freezing" treatments, and we're making progress, but each visit is so painful for him. He's also been battling an ingrown toenail for about six weeks, and it eventually became pretty infected. We took him to his pediatrician who sent us to a podiatrist. It's looking 100% better, but the podiatrist told us it may come back. We'll keep an eye on it. It's been fun to be a football mom...we decorated the lockers before their first game this past Wednesday, and I enjoy being Gordon's cheerleader for a change.
5. Courtnie has started the fifth grade off well. She's running for class representative on the student council at her school, and will find out on Monday how she did. She's also started piano again and will be playing soccer for the first time starting next month. She continues to be her goofy, silly self and makes me smile every day.
6. The new band director at BMHS asked me to write the drill for the third song. I agreed, and hope I can do a good job. If it works out, maybe I can put myself out there as a drill writer. I paid someone else $1000 to write our show last year...If I can write a few of those each year, it would help. I'm not sure what next year will hold for me. I can't anticipate any band director openings, so I'm not sure what I'll be doing. I really don't want to sub for the rest of my life! :)
I've been reading The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin. It has made me really evaluate how I act towards others and how I feel in general. One of the "rules" she makes for herself is, "Act how you want to feel." I never feel great, but I have found that when I smile and am happy, I tend to forget how lousy I feel. It's something I'm going to try and work harder at, and I know it will help. It hasn't been easy this week, as I've felt so incredibly lousy, but I'm starting to feel human again and am anxious to put her suggestions to work.
A couple of silly experiences with Ian:
1. We were eating dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings last Friday. The kids went and played a game that gave them a bouncy ball as a prize. Ian and Courtnie were rolling it across the table, and that led to bouncing it across the table. Ian remembered the "bounce the ball in the cup" challenge from the TV show "Minute to Win It." He swears he didn't mean to do it, but with one bounce the ball ended up in Gordon's water cup. We all laughed so hard...well, all of us but Gordon.
2. The next night Ian loaded the dishwasher and started it up. He then came in to my room and we were chatting, as we like to do just before bed. After about 20 minutes, he went to bed, and on the way noticed that there was white foam all over our kitchen floor. He had put dish washing detergent in BOTH cups of the dishwasher, along with the dishwasher tablet we use. He thought we would be so proud of him for making the dishes extra clean. Instead, Ian and I spent the next hour cleaning up soap bubbles that kept pouring out of the dishwasher. After it ran a complete cycle, the bubbles subsided, and we were able to go to bed. Ian was desperately sorry, but I thought it was a great bonding moment, and now he knows the difference between "dish washing" and "dishwasher" soap. :)
So, we're still playing the waiting game. I get tested again on September 9, and should find out results on the 12th or 13th. I continue to be hopeful. After the last disappointing news, I told Gordon that if I could just understand WHY I must continue to wait, I would be okay. I just don't get it, and don't know if I ever will. I just have to continue to pray for strength to endure and the faith to accept what comes.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The Girl Who Cried "Transplant"
There once was a girl who lived in a small town. This town was pretty boring, and most days were pretty uneventful. This girl had been dealing with health problems for the majority of her life, including some major circulation problems as a result of the radiation treatments she had as a child. She tried and tried to have them resolved in a non-invasive way, to no avail.
Her vascular surgeon suggested that she have a major operation to correct this issue. She would have an artificial graft put into her abdomen that would bypass her damaged aorta. This was done in December 2009. Two days after her surgery, her surgeon informed her that her kidneys had shut down and she would need to start dialysis. He assured her that this happened on occasion, and often times the problem would resolve itself after a couple of weeks of dialysis treatments. When she began treatments on December 25, 2009, she also was informed that she had Hepatitis B, which she would find out later causes some other complications.
After being released from the hospital in Phoenix, she began dialysis treatments in Phoenix three times a week. These treatments made her very sick. She ended up in the hospital several times over the next year or so...often times to deal with extreme dehydration and high blood pressure. She even had a couple of seizures as a result of the extreme blood pressure. (Her highest was 190/120.) She lost 50 pounds, (something she needed to do anyway, but not THAT way!) and was very weak. She was given several priesthood blessings, including one from her bishop that promised her that she would be restored to health.
After about six months of treatments, her nephrologist asked her if she wanted to be worked up for a kidney transplant. She decided to proceed with the testing at Mayo Clinic and was approved to be a transplant candidate in July 2010. Her brother and sister both offered to donate a kidney to her, and it was decided (by means of "Rock, Paper, Scissors") that her sister Michelle would get worked up first.
Meanwhile, the girl had been taking anti-viral medications to get rid of the Hepatitis B virus. The medicine made her very sick, and she doubted that it was working at all. It took five months, but the virus was finally undetectable and she was good to go for transplant.
Michelle came to Mayo Clinic and went through all kinds of testing. The girl stayed with her sister the entire time, and was so grateful that she was willing to go through this for her. Her sister was approved as a match, and the transplant was scheduled for November 19, 2010. The girl went in to Mayo for her pre-surgery testing, which included a CT scan of her kidneys, as she had had kidney cancer in 2008, and they wanted to make sure she was cancer-free. While her kidneys were deemed cancer-free, they discovered that her aorta and bypass graft were once again blocked, and would need to be repaired before the transplant could occur.
The girl was devastated. She felt she had gone through the entire last year of dialysis and being so sick for nothing. The surgery that started this whole thing was a failure. The vascular surgeon at Mayo agreed to do a stent procedure on November 18, so that the transplant could occur as planned on November 19.
The stent procedure was successful, and she was in ICU recovering and making necessary preparations for the next day's surgery when she woke up with severe pains in her right leg. The surgeon came in around 3:00 a.m. and took one look at the bottom of her feet (which were black and blue) and said that she had what is called "trash foot." It turns out that all of the crud that was blocking my aorta came loose when the stent was placed, and it sent all of it--the plaque, clots, and other materials--down my leg and to my feet. They would need to do emergency surgery to "roto-rooter" the artery in her leg. The surgeon also told her that the transplant could not take place. She called her husband, cried so hard, and told him to tell her sister that everything was off.
She ended up staying in the hospital for several days while they monitored her circulation for any other blood clots. They told her that the transplant would need to be postponed for at least three months to give her arteries time to heal and grow stronger. Meanwhile, she was given Coumadin and Plavix to thin her blood and avoid any dangerous clots.
In February, she saw the surgeon again and was cleared for transplant. The transplant was rescheduled, and plane tickets were bought. When she went in for her pre-surgery tests (again) she was told that they would do another Hepatitis B check, just to be sure. When she was called and told that her levels were higher than they'd ever been, she was confused. She was under the impression that once the virus was undetectable, she was good. She didn't realize that she'd need to be on these meds for the rest of her life. So, the transplant was postponed yet again.
March, April, May and June came and went. Surgery dates scheduled, hopes were high, only to be dashed time and time again. She was beginning to wonder what she had done wrong, why she was being punished, and what she could do better. Fast Sunday in June was a special day. Her whole family, and a lot of friends fasted for her and that the transplant could finally take place. She felt completely at peace, and felt confident that the surgery would take place on June 14. This was also her final chance for the transplant if she wanted to return to teaching in August. She went for her pre-surgery testing AGAIN and was so confident that all would be well. When she was called on June 11 and told that her level was still at 10,000, she was--once again--devastated.
The liver specialist increased her dose again, and she was tested on July 12. This time her count was at 1,300...a huge improvement, but not where it needs to be. (It needs to be at zero.) She feels so silly, and doesn't even know how to respond to her sister when she calls to tell her the bad news. She's just numb.
She will get tested again on August 12, and is so hopeful that things will be good. If the count went from 10,000 to 1,300 in one month, surely it can go down to zero in another month. But, as one of her nurses told her, "Well, it is YOU!" Who knows.
She is sure people are tired of hearing that the date is so close. She is sure people just don't even know what to say anymore. She feels very much like the boy who cried wolf, just to get the attention of his small town.
She goes through times in her life where she is fine. She is grateful for the opportunity she has to go to dialysis, for she knows it keeps her alive. She is so grateful for her sweet husband and amazing children who have stood by her and taken care of her through all of this. She is grateful for all of her family who pray for her and love her. She is able to keep going and keeps her chin up, even though things are tough.
She also goes through times where she gets down. She wonders if the transplant is ever going to happen. She can't stand sitting in the chair at dialysis for one more minute. She counts down the minutes until she can go home. She dreads the thought of going, smelling the bleach/vinegar smell, and the headache that will follow treatment.
She is sure that there is a reason for all of this. She just wishes she knew what it was. Band camp started last week, and she is so sad that that part of her life is over. Someday she will understand.
Her vascular surgeon suggested that she have a major operation to correct this issue. She would have an artificial graft put into her abdomen that would bypass her damaged aorta. This was done in December 2009. Two days after her surgery, her surgeon informed her that her kidneys had shut down and she would need to start dialysis. He assured her that this happened on occasion, and often times the problem would resolve itself after a couple of weeks of dialysis treatments. When she began treatments on December 25, 2009, she also was informed that she had Hepatitis B, which she would find out later causes some other complications.
After being released from the hospital in Phoenix, she began dialysis treatments in Phoenix three times a week. These treatments made her very sick. She ended up in the hospital several times over the next year or so...often times to deal with extreme dehydration and high blood pressure. She even had a couple of seizures as a result of the extreme blood pressure. (Her highest was 190/120.) She lost 50 pounds, (something she needed to do anyway, but not THAT way!) and was very weak. She was given several priesthood blessings, including one from her bishop that promised her that she would be restored to health.
After about six months of treatments, her nephrologist asked her if she wanted to be worked up for a kidney transplant. She decided to proceed with the testing at Mayo Clinic and was approved to be a transplant candidate in July 2010. Her brother and sister both offered to donate a kidney to her, and it was decided (by means of "Rock, Paper, Scissors") that her sister Michelle would get worked up first.
Meanwhile, the girl had been taking anti-viral medications to get rid of the Hepatitis B virus. The medicine made her very sick, and she doubted that it was working at all. It took five months, but the virus was finally undetectable and she was good to go for transplant.
Michelle came to Mayo Clinic and went through all kinds of testing. The girl stayed with her sister the entire time, and was so grateful that she was willing to go through this for her. Her sister was approved as a match, and the transplant was scheduled for November 19, 2010. The girl went in to Mayo for her pre-surgery testing, which included a CT scan of her kidneys, as she had had kidney cancer in 2008, and they wanted to make sure she was cancer-free. While her kidneys were deemed cancer-free, they discovered that her aorta and bypass graft were once again blocked, and would need to be repaired before the transplant could occur.
The girl was devastated. She felt she had gone through the entire last year of dialysis and being so sick for nothing. The surgery that started this whole thing was a failure. The vascular surgeon at Mayo agreed to do a stent procedure on November 18, so that the transplant could occur as planned on November 19.
The stent procedure was successful, and she was in ICU recovering and making necessary preparations for the next day's surgery when she woke up with severe pains in her right leg. The surgeon came in around 3:00 a.m. and took one look at the bottom of her feet (which were black and blue) and said that she had what is called "trash foot." It turns out that all of the crud that was blocking my aorta came loose when the stent was placed, and it sent all of it--the plaque, clots, and other materials--down my leg and to my feet. They would need to do emergency surgery to "roto-rooter" the artery in her leg. The surgeon also told her that the transplant could not take place. She called her husband, cried so hard, and told him to tell her sister that everything was off.
She ended up staying in the hospital for several days while they monitored her circulation for any other blood clots. They told her that the transplant would need to be postponed for at least three months to give her arteries time to heal and grow stronger. Meanwhile, she was given Coumadin and Plavix to thin her blood and avoid any dangerous clots.
In February, she saw the surgeon again and was cleared for transplant. The transplant was rescheduled, and plane tickets were bought. When she went in for her pre-surgery tests (again) she was told that they would do another Hepatitis B check, just to be sure. When she was called and told that her levels were higher than they'd ever been, she was confused. She was under the impression that once the virus was undetectable, she was good. She didn't realize that she'd need to be on these meds for the rest of her life. So, the transplant was postponed yet again.
March, April, May and June came and went. Surgery dates scheduled, hopes were high, only to be dashed time and time again. She was beginning to wonder what she had done wrong, why she was being punished, and what she could do better. Fast Sunday in June was a special day. Her whole family, and a lot of friends fasted for her and that the transplant could finally take place. She felt completely at peace, and felt confident that the surgery would take place on June 14. This was also her final chance for the transplant if she wanted to return to teaching in August. She went for her pre-surgery testing AGAIN and was so confident that all would be well. When she was called on June 11 and told that her level was still at 10,000, she was--once again--devastated.
The liver specialist increased her dose again, and she was tested on July 12. This time her count was at 1,300...a huge improvement, but not where it needs to be. (It needs to be at zero.) She feels so silly, and doesn't even know how to respond to her sister when she calls to tell her the bad news. She's just numb.
She will get tested again on August 12, and is so hopeful that things will be good. If the count went from 10,000 to 1,300 in one month, surely it can go down to zero in another month. But, as one of her nurses told her, "Well, it is YOU!" Who knows.
She is sure people are tired of hearing that the date is so close. She is sure people just don't even know what to say anymore. She feels very much like the boy who cried wolf, just to get the attention of his small town.
She goes through times in her life where she is fine. She is grateful for the opportunity she has to go to dialysis, for she knows it keeps her alive. She is so grateful for her sweet husband and amazing children who have stood by her and taken care of her through all of this. She is grateful for all of her family who pray for her and love her. She is able to keep going and keeps her chin up, even though things are tough.
She also goes through times where she gets down. She wonders if the transplant is ever going to happen. She can't stand sitting in the chair at dialysis for one more minute. She counts down the minutes until she can go home. She dreads the thought of going, smelling the bleach/vinegar smell, and the headache that will follow treatment.
She is sure that there is a reason for all of this. She just wishes she knew what it was. Band camp started last week, and she is so sad that that part of her life is over. Someday she will understand.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)