A Giant Among Men

My Sweet Grandpa

The title of this blog gets overused.  A lot.  However, in this case, it fits the man I'm going to write about to a "t."

Last week, my grandpa suffered a pretty severe heart attack.  Luckily, my grandparents had recently moved closer to a great hospital in Provo, Utah and were able to get him there quickly.  They put a stent in his artery, and he was doing well.  So well, in fact, that they discharged him Friday and let him go home.

Early Saturday morning, he suffered a major stroke, and was once again transported to the hospital.  They tried several procedures to clear the blockage, but to no avail.  That evening he had another major stroke that left him paralyzed on one side of his body, and unable to swallow or talk.  My dad and grandma (along with other members of the family, I'm sure) decided that the best course of action to take would be to just keep him comfortable and let nature take it's course.

This has been hard news for me to take, and I've spent a lot of time over the past few days crying for my grandpa.  I love him so much.  When we first found out about the stroke, I told Gordon that I always wanted to marry someone just like my grandpa, and I know--without a doubt--that I did.  My grandpa is physically strong and has been a hard worker his entire life.  He worked in construction and was a plumber with his brothers in Southern California until the early 1980s, when he decided that he wanted to go back to school to become a seminary teacher.  I admired this so much.  He has a tremendous love for the Gospel of Jesus Christ and has the most unshakable testimony of anyone I know.

My grandparents were married 63 years ago.  That's pretty amazing, especially by today's standards.  They have nine children and a zillion grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  (I say a "zillion" because I'm not completely sure how many they have...but it's a bunch!)  They have not always had an easy life.  It has been full of heartache, financial difficulties, children who have strayed, and illness, but through it all they have always had a deep and abiding love for each other.  He has always treated my grandma like a queen, and I don't ever recall hearing an unkind word from him towards her.

My sister called me last night around 2:30 a.m. and told me that he'd passed away.  My cousin Brian was with him...how special for Brian.  Brian's dad, Tom  passed away several years ago, and I'm sure that Tom has been waiting patiently for my grandpa to come "home."  I can't think of a more appropriate person to be there when he left this life.

This is going to be a long blog, and it's meant mostly for me...so I apologize in advance, but I wanted to share some memories of my grandpa.  Some are sacred to me, some may be a tad embellished (due to my addled mind), and some are just fun.  I'm sure I'll also add to this list as time goes on.

• Sometime when I was young (I don't remember when,) my grandparents took me and my Aunt Sarah and Aunt Ruth on a road trip to the Grand Canyon to visit my Aunt Beth, who was working there.  On the way there, I became carsick and the only "receptacle" we had to catch my vomit was a Big Gulp cup.  I vomited and vomited until I filled the entire cup to the brim, and then I managed to stop, which was lucky for all of us!
• My grandpa gives the best hugs of anyone in the entire world.  You feel like you're enveloped in strength and power.  I can't wait until I can have another hug.
• When we were living in Southern California, my family was going through some hard times and we lived with my grandparents for a while.  I remember my grandpa coming home with a black and blue hand.  He said he'd been bitten by a black widow spider.  The funny thing to me at the time was that he didn't seem bothered by it at all, whereas I was completely freaked out by it!
• My grandpa makes the most amazing oatmeal and toast.  We'd have it for breakfast just about every time we stayed at their house.  I can't remember which one would say it, but when the toast got burnt, either grandpa or grandma wouldn't complain--they'd simply say, "I love burnt toast."
• When my grandparents moved from Garden Grove, CA to Fairview, UT, they were so excited to get away from California.  They bought a 5-acre parcel of land in a development called "Hideaway Valley."  I think the land cost them $5,000.  The first thing they did was invite the family out for a picnic and "shed raising" party.  They built a little shed, which took just a few hours, and that was their first improvement to the land.  My husband, in typical Gordon fashion, climbed on top of the shed and did a little jig. 
• My grandpa knows more about the scriptures than anyone else I know.  He studied them diligently and knew the origins of words that were difficult to understand and could explain gospel principles so well.  I am sure that he is with other scriptural scholars right now, discussing important points of the gospel.  I can't think of anything he'd rather be doing right now.
• About eight years ago, my grandparents were called on a mission to serve in Nauvoo, Illinois.  This is an important historical site in our church, as it was where the early members of our church were able to settle and find peace for a while.  Grandpa served as the area plumber and grandma worked in the various visitor sites.  I think at one point, she worked in the gunsmith shop, which is ironic considering I don't think either she or grandpa ever owned a gun.  The highlight of their mission, though, was performing in the musical productions.  My grandparents loved to sing, and I loved to hear them sing.  My grandma's beautiful soprano voice mixed with my grandpa's deep baritone made going to church with them so fun.  I'm positive that I got my love of music from them.
• When he was a bit younger, my grandpa would wear Hawaiian shirts like the one below.  No one else could "rock" these shirts like grandpa!

• Last year, when I was just beginning my kidney ordeal, I was at my sister's house in Utah with several members of my family.  I had asked my dad if he could give me a blessing of health, and my grandpa was there and able to assist.  Before the blessing, he told me that when I was sick as a child, he watched me suffer so much that he wondered if it was worth it for me to even go on living.  With tears in his eyes (and mine) he said that he now knew it was worth it when he looks at my loving husband and two amazing children.  That has sustained me throughout the trials I've had the last year and a half.
• Last month, my brother Josh was married.  At the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, I saw my grandpa for what would be the last time.  With tears in his eyes (again...we Cobabes are criers!) he told me he wasn't even going to ask me how I was doing or when I'd have my transplant because he knew I was tired of answering.  He just hugged me and told me that he loved me and was praying for me.
• Monday, as I was on my way to dialysis, I called my sister Michelle, who happened to be in grandpa's hospital room at the time. She told me that I could talk to grandpa using her speakerphone.  I wasn't really prepared for this, but I told him that I loved him so much and that I was glad he was at peace.  My dad (who was also there) told me that as I spoke to my grandpa, he was nodding and tears were in his eyes.  My dad said that one of the last things he asked before he was unable to speak was how I was doing, and when I'd be able to get my transplant.  That meant so much to me.  I told grandpa that I think I'm trying to set the world's record for the most tranplant delays.  My dad said that he thinks I was just waiting so that grandpa could be there with Michelle and I in the operating room, watching over us.  I know he'll be there taking care of us like he always has.

Several years ago, my grandpa wrote down his testimony of Jesus Christ, of the truthfulness of the Church of Jesus Christ, and of the family and gave it to each one of us.  It is one of the most precious things I own.  I would like to add my testimony to his that I know that families are forever and that I will see my grandpa again.  I know that when I do, he will wrap me in his arms and tell me how proud he is of me and all that I've accomplished.  I know that he will be able to tell me that it's all been worth it.  I know that he will be there to show me the way, and will introduce me to our Savior.  I know that he is one of the strong and valiant beings and is one of our Father's most chosen spirits.  I am so happy for him that he is home at last.

I love you so much, grandpa.  See you soon!

The Power of Music

This month's ward newsletter article:

A few weeks ago, my son came home from a shopping trip with his dad. He had some birthday money and purchased a couple of CDs that he was pretty excited about. After looking at one of the CDs, I asked his dad why he'd let him purchase this particular CD. I had not heard the music on it, but I knew that the language and subject matter was questionable, to say the least. My son assured me that he'd purchased the "clean" version of the CD, which meant that all of the bad language had been taken out.

He became pretty upset when I told him that I didn't want him to listen to that CD. He was mad that I wouldn't let him listen to a CD he had purchased with his own money. His dad and I told him that he had the choice to do what he wanted, but I wanted to let him know how I felt about this particular artist. We looked up the lyrics to one of the songs on the CD, and my husband told him that the song contained just about every swear word he knew. Even though the words were "bleeped" out, our mind still fills in the blank. This particular artist also degrades women and condones a lifestyle that is not becoming a priesthood holder.

Music is a very powerful tool--both for good and for evil. There is a reason why Primary children spend twenty minutes each Sunday learning songs. They contain gospel messages set to music that stay with us our entire lives. We may not remember a particular Sharing Time lesson, but we do remember the songs we learned in Primary.

Satan knows this truth, and uses it to teach his "lessons" as well. The popular songs on the radio today condone violence, promiscuity, drug and alcohol use and living an unclean life. Just like the songs we learn in Primary, the lyrics and messages of these songs stay with us. There is something about messages put to music that tend to stay in our memory a lot longer than words just spoken.

As a musician, I know how powerful music can be. I have been brought to tears by a Mozart aria or Beethoven sonata. Listening to good music can lift our spirits and help us feel better. Some of the moments in my life where I have felt the Spirit the most strongly is when I am really listening to music. I know that it was created by our Heavenly Father for His purposes.

As parents, I encourage you to be involved and aware of what your children are listening to. While music can "soothe the savage beast," it can also bring out the "beast" in your children and set them down the wrong path. I encourage my son to make sure that he is listening to music that would be acceptable if Christ were to walk in the room. If we use that as our standard, we will be sure that we stay true.

Light Bulb

Ian and I watched "Despicable Me" the other day.  He loves that movie, and I love listening to him laugh.  My childrens' laughter is my favorite sound in the whole world. 

Anyway, when Gru gets a great idea, he says--in a deadpan voice--, "Light bulb." 

I just had one of those moments.

I've spent a lot of time over the last 15 months wondering why all of this garbage has been happening to me.  "Why?" is a mantra that I can't seem to put aside. 

I'm a relatively good person.  I try to do what's right, I love my family, I am kind to others (well, unless they annoy me,) so why do I keep getting "blessed" with these trials?  Some people are ill as a result of the choices they make in their lives.  They have no one to blame but themselves for what they are going through.  For me, there seems to be no logical reason why I had cancer as a child and am now dealing with all of these late-term side effects.  I often think that it's just not fair...I had no say in the matter.

This morning, as I woke up, a thought came to me:

I did choose this.

Yep...I chose all of it.  The good, the bad, the ugly.  I know that as a child of God, I had a choice and a say in what would happen to me before I came to earth.  I know that I lived with Him, and we probably discussed my life.  I like to imagine that it would have been similar to the loving talks that my dad and I have.  He probably sat me down and told me that I'd get to come to earth and have wonderful, amazing experiences, but with that would also come some pretty significant trials.  He told me that if I can make it through these trials, I'd be a stronger person for it and that I'd be able to be more compassionate and understanding of others. 

I imagine that I was so anxious to get here that I told Him I'd take whatever came my way.  He promised me that in exchange for the hard times, I'd be blessed in so many other ways...most of them I'll never even fully realize.  In exchange for not being able to have children by myself, He blessed me with two amazing birth mothers who have given me the greatest gift anyone could ever give.  In exchange for being so ill this past year, he has blessed me with a greater love for my husband than I could have ever realized.

While, I'm sure I'll still have days where I ask why this has to happen to me, I'm grateful for this "light bulb" moment.  I know that it came from Someone who loves me very much.

It's About Time!!

So, it's snowing, and when it's snowing my satellite doesn't work, so I can't watch TV.  This is probably a good thing.

You see, I've been meaning to write for a while, but for some reason I just don't do it.  Today I have no excuse...

It's been a rough week, but also a week of spiritual enlightenment and some tremendous surprise blessings.

February 1 I went to Mayo Clinic for a CT scan.  This scan would reveal just how well my new stent is doing and would (hopefully) clear me for transplant.  I had the scan, and then had an appointment with the vascular surgeon later in the day to hear the verdict. 

When I saw the surgeon, he didn't have the results, but wanted to get me the news, so he went to go and find the results himself.  When he came back to the room, he was beaming and said he had great news.  Everything looked great, and we could proceed with the transplant.  Gordon and I were so happy.

I called Michelle, and she called Mayo and told them we needed a date right away.  (Somehow, she manages to get answers when I can't...go figure.)  Within a day we had a surgery date of Friday, February 18.  That was so quick!  Last time we had to wait over a month.  We were pretty stoked, to say the least.

Soon, everyone knew and they were all thrilled and excited for me.  I kept saying that I'd be excited when the kidney is in and is working.  I just didn't want to get my hopes up too high, as I'd been let down before and it was more than a little hard.

Thursday, February 10 I went to Mayo again for my pre-surgery visits.  Everyone I met with was so excited for me and was so relieved that it would finally be done.  My nurse case manager even cried as we talked about the journey we'd been on together.  She said she knew I'd be a tough case, but that it would get done.

As I met with the transplant surgeon, he said that he'd need to check my Hepatitis B virus count one more time before surgery.  (Luckily, he was able to use the blood draw I'd had done earlier that morning.)  For some reason, this felt funny to me and I had a feeling it would mean trouble.  No one had checked my count since I'd been cleared for transplant the first time in October 2010.  (This was the first hurdle I had to overcome.) 

For some reason, somewhere along the way in my life I contracted Hepatitis B.  I can't be sure where, as I've been a "good girl" my entire life.  The one theory I have is that I got it from a blood transfusion when I had cancer in the late 1970s.  Three of my six siblings also have it, so I may have given it to them as well.  It's highly contagious and can live in outside the body for weeks. 

I saw a liver specialist when I was first worked up for a transplant at Mayo.  He said we'd need to get the viral count under control before I would be cleared for transplant.  He put me on a medication called Viread, which is an anti-viral medication.  I was on it for three months before my viral count was under control.  I was under the impression that once I was cleared, I wouldn't need to take the med anymore.  Boy, was I wrong. 

The blood test done on February 10 came back with a higher viral count than I'd ever had before.

I was on my way to what I thought was my last dialysis treatment when I got a call from my transplant nephrologist.  He gave me the bad news and I lost it.  (I feel kind of bad for sobbing in his ear, but I couldn't help it.)  I was crying so hard that I had to pull over to the side of the road until I could regain composure.  Through the next couple of phone calls--first from the liver specialist and then from my nurse case manager--I began to understand how dangerous having a transplant when the viral count was so high would be. 

Because I will be on immuno-suppression drugs after transplant, the HepB virus would have had a field day.  It would have taken over and could have potentially sent me into liver failure.  Not pleasant to think about.  The liver specialist apologized profusely, and said that somewhere we must have gotten our wires crossed.  Evidently, I'll be on this medication for the rest of my life, but this was not something I understood at the time.

I'll have a blood draw in three weeks, and then again in six weeks if the count isn't good the first time.  We have a tentative surgery date of April 13 if I have to wait the whole six weeks.  (I'm--of course--hoping for three!)

This week I've had some pretty incredible spiritual experiences.  Some were totally random...like chatting with the medical assistant at my neurologist appointment.  She didn't know me, but looking at my chart, she said she believed I was chosen to have these trials because of who I was before I came here.  Pretty remarkable.  I had lunch with my good friend Gina, who has also had a tough year.  We were able to "compare notes" and realize that we were in the same place emotionally.  I've received cards, flowers and even some cute pajamas from people that love me.  Some relatives I haven't had contact with in several years sent us a card with $500.00 in it.  How did they know we were struggling to pay rent this month? 

There have been times the past 15 months that I've wondered if my Heavenly Father knows I'm here and that I'm struggling.  There have been many, many times when I've asked Him why I have to go through this.  Haven't I been through enough?  When will it be enough?  I spoke with my dad this week, and we just both got angry at the prospect of this never ending. 

I know that the one thing that has sustained me through this trial is my faith.  I am so grateful for the knowledge I have that this WILL end.  I am grateful to know that when this life is over, I will have a perfect body.  I don't even know what if feels like to feel "normal."  How wonderful will that be! 

I am grateful for my family.  I am grateful for a sister who is so willing to give up part of her so that I can be healthy again.  I am grateful for a husband who has been with me, holding my hand every step of the way.  I am grateful for my kids who understand when I don't feel well.  I am grateful for my parents who love me and made the decision to save my life when I was too young to make it for myself.  We all had no idea at the time what life would hold for me, but I'm grateful that they gave me the chance to find out.

Becoming Who You Were Meant to Be

Life is funny.  You get dealt a certain set of cards when you are born, and the cards change throughout your life.  Some of the changes are your fault, some are just happenstance.  What you do with your hand throughout your life determines who you are.

One of my former students is going to be graduating soon from college.  I've known this student (we'll call him Nate ;oP) since he was in the sixth grade.  I was his first band director...I taught him before I took a year off to take care of Courtnie. He was a super shy kid who just wanted to play the drums.  Before I started teaching at BMHS, I would go to the football games and see him playing on the drumline his freshmen year.  It was neat to see that he was still playing and having a great time.

When I was offered the position at BMHS, I was excited to work with him again.  I was also able to learn a lot more about him.  He was raised by a single mom and never knew his dad.  His mom had addiction problems when he was a child, and I'm sure he never had any money.  His older sister is now dealing with the same addiction problems.

It would have been easy for him to use all of the above as an excuse, but he never did.  I never heard him complain about his upbringing or his difficulties.  He worked so hard to overcome everything.  He was the drumline captain his junior and senior years and set the bar for other students to try to reach.  He worked bagging groceries so he could buy a "beater" car to get around in.  He would ask to stay and practice after I'd left for the evening.  (I think he actually slept in the band room, but I'll never know for sure.)

He's been studying music education at NAU for the past four years.  He volunteers to come to BMHS to help out with the drumline and marching band as much as he is able.  He has arranged the drumline and pit music for our marching show for the past two years, and has done and amazing job.  He's composing music for different groups at NAU, and has come to appreciate and understand music in a way that is totally new. It has been so rewarding to me to see him grow into an exceptional musician and teacher.  I'm grateful that I was able to have a small part in his life.  I am 100% positive that he will be successful in whatever he decides he wants to be.

The hand of cards we're dealt don't have to determine who we will become.  We have the power to ask the "dealer" for new cards, and we can decide how we want to play the cards.  As long as we stay in the game and keep working with those cards, we'll be the ones to determine the outcome.

I'm grateful for people like Nate who have taught me this lesson so well.

Love Conquers All

I promised a happy post about Thanksgiving weekend, so here it is:

At the last minute, we decided to go to Idaho to see my parents and brother Alex.  I haven't seen my mom since she had her car accident in September, and I felt like I needed to.  The roads were TERRIBLE both there and back, but Gordon is awesome at driving in the snow and ice, so we made it there safely.

It was so good to visit for a few days with my folks.  They are great people, and  are so good to me.  It was also awesome to spend Saturday with my grandparents and a few of my brothers and sisters.  We had so much fun just hanging out.  All of the cousins played so well together...it was a blast.  I wish we could do it more often.

Friday night we took my parents and Alex out to dinner at Applebee's.  I had some pasta with alfredo sauce, and (of course) it made my stomach upset.  I was up several times during the night.  One of the times I was up I heard my dad talking in their bedroom (this was around 2 a.m.)  I couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, but it almost sounded like a prayer.  I got up again a little while later and he was still talking.  At this point, I was pretty impressed with the length of his prayer. :)

In the morning, my mom asked me if I was okay, as she heard me get up several times.  I asked her what dad was talking about in the middle of the night, and she told me that he reads to her when she wakes up in pain.  She said it helps take her mind off the pain.

I was so touched by this.  My parents have been married for 38 years and my dad still loves my mom enough to read to her and help her in the middle of the night.  This exemplified true love to me.

It's funny how sometimes it takes a trial to realize how much you need your spouse.  Gordon has been the most incredible husband the past year.  He has cleaned up my vomit, held my hand when I was hurting, been my advocate with doctors, and has comforted me when I didn't think I could go on.  In our 19 years of marriage, I've never loved him more.

As much as this past year has been one of the worst I've had, it's also been one of many blessings.  We have been blessed in so many ways, and I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for them. 

Endurance...

It's been a week! 

Monday at dialysis, the doc told me that it was time to take the dialysis catheter out.  I had talked her into giving me a few days to see if the antibiotics would work, but my body seems to hate vancomycin.  Oh well...

It was taken out Tuesday by a surgeon I know well in Prescott.  Thankfully, he took one look at my absurd catheter that the access center in Phoenix put in and told me it would be too painful to take out while I was awake.  I had to wait a couple of hours for the OR to open up, but I was grateful to be asleep when he took it out.

Wednesday Gordon and I travelled to Mayo for a consultation with a vascular disease specialist.  He asked a ton of questions, felt for pulses at various places in my body and then sent me down for labs.  (My favorite!)  It only took two tries for the blood draw, so we had a good day!  I came home so exhausted...I fell asleep at 6:00 and didn't wake up until this morning.

Today, I got to the hospital at 9:00 for the new catheter placement.  While I was in pre-op they had to put an IV in.  I think six different nurses tried, and they finally called in the radiologist to use the ultrasound machine to find a vein.  He put in a four-inch catheter in my upper right arm.  Kind of weird.  A little while later, the anesthesiologist came in and told the nurse to give me 2 grams of Versed.  It's my new favorite drug! :)  Once it's in, you don't remember a thing!

I woke up after surgery in a lot of pain.  The surgeon put the new catheter in on my left side (the other two I've had have been placed on the right side.)  Once again, grateful for good pain meds.  They made me a little nauseous, but I managed okay.  Gordon came and picked me up and we went home.  (After stopping for a HUGE Mountain Dew.) 

Gordon got called in early for work today, and in order to get enough sleep he had to miss Ian's wrestling tournament.  We felt so bad that he wouldn't have anyone there for him.  It's the first time that he's been on his own.  Maybe he should do it more often...he took 2nd place!  I'm so proud of him!  He's getting better each year and I just love watching him wrestle.

Dialysis tomorrow...we'll see how this new catheter behaves!  Hopefully it will be the last one until the transplant in February!!