I suppose the word cumin does look a bit like cinnamon, and since they do come in the same size container her confusion is understandable. Who knows? Maybe, we should add some cumin sugar to the apple dumpling recipe.

I am a crabby person so don't call me until the 9th according to the calendar. Although, it might be more enjoyable if you do call, and then I could ruin your day by saying crabby, unsupportive things. For some wicked reason, that might make me feel better.

My dog has broken her tail. We don't know how, but Scott is hoping it was from being hit by a car and that she will be a little more careful on the road. All I know is that she is one sad dog without her wagger.

"But Maahum......."
Do I look like a butt mom to you?

She paused just a little too long thinking about that one. Hmmmmm....... a condition that is not likely to improve considering what I ate this week: fried egg rolls, fried onion rings, bbq ribs, pizza, 3 batches of wicked apple dumplings dredged in butter and laquered in Mountain Dew syrup. Oh mama!

The good news is that Scott has gained 8 pounds. The bad news is that so have I. Twist my arm, but I'm taking a few on for the team.

It seems a sturdy machine, and simple to use. The kids did jobs for the privilege of sewing little bags with decorative stitches in variegated threads. Already, it's been worth the extra I spent for those features. I even figured out the automatic buttonholer.

Scrubbing scum would not usually pull me into tears, but I'm so glad not to be in a crisis of gargantuan proportions. Oh! To be stable enough to help outside of my little padded box. Yes, it's actually a luxury to scrub someone else's tub.

It also makes me grateful not to be yea verily pregnant in July.

Mosquitoes bit through my yoga pants, but it was worth the conversation over the new neighbors' weeds. She needed to talk, and I needed to get away from my children a bit. A win/win if you don't count the itchy bum.

Scott and JA are camping with the scouts. I'm not sure Scott is going to make it. It would be a pity to have worked this long to keep him alive only to lose the man less than 2 miles from the house.

A better day, overall.

It is of little consolation that the potatoes were yummy when your husband asks for the kitchen scissors to cut the meat.

"I don't want a bleepity bleep dog in this hotel!!!!! Get that bleep a bleep a bleep dog out of here!!!!"

And he went on and on in front of the kids until I grabbed the arms of his wheelchair and firmly spoke into his face, "Jim DeMott!!! I hope you had a good day!"
"I did have a good day! I hope you had a good day, too!" he replied, taken back; still yelling as if he were mad but couldn't remember why.

If nothing else, taking children to the care center increases their vocabulary which we discussed all the way home.

"So...... where's the fun class?"
Well, this was the fun class.
"No. You said that you had a fun class. I want the fun class!"
You didn't have fun?
"Noohoo. We just learned about.......... sssSSSTuFF. That was not fun! Khuh!"

Hmmmm....... I could have sworn my class was the fun class. At least he ensured that I had a great laugh.

"Oh............ I remember the last time you came in here. Yes..........."
He was green.
"Yes, you were so sick. I remember............ Oh, I am so glad you are better. I knew you lived in Rexburg, but how could I find you to see? Oh, I am so glad.......... so glad."

It humbled my heart remembering just how awful that time had been. And to think how close Scott was to dying, and how many times since. Even more humbling was to realize that this waiter had worried and wondered, and was so genuinely grateful to see us again.

I'm so grateful that I wasn't there without Scott and telling our favorite waiter that Scott had died. It's easy to forget how lucky we are; how blessed. Seriously blessed.

"Macaroni, too?"
Yes, sweetheart.

So, I sat and was sad with her.

Someday, I will have to remind her of this situation where it wasn't working out, and we had to make a painful decision. It has dozens of applications: a dead end job, a bad friendship, an abusive relationship....... Tough choices that wake you up with worry and inevitably present themselves in every person's life. It's just part of growing up; realizing that in spite of all their charms, it's usually best to kill the roosters. And quickly, at that.

I'm pretty sure that a rooster that crows every minute after 4:45am is not likely to survive another night.

All four roosters are alive and well, living in the tree cave..... at least, for now. There was that incident with the neighbors' Australian Shepherd that makes me think the population will soon thin out. Still, they are absolutely charming, crowing out in the yard. I really hope they survive.

Men are expected to be able to take care of themselves, but a man that can feed a crowd is actually useful. It made me happy to see JA do it fairly well. His attention span was not quite up to grilling for 17, but he did most of the prep and a huge chunk of the cleanup. It's a start..... a good start.

Had M not thwacked JA on the head with an umbrella, she would never have felt the need to hide in the old pine trees. She wouldn't have decided to trim a few branches to make it a bit more comfortable, and then a few more. When she was done, there was a well concealed, two room tree cave big enough for the adults to stand and all the kids to play. Not that I condone umbrella flogging, but it did turn out rather well.

We turned out 3 of the 4 roosters into the yard. I thought they'd be goners within the hour, but our ferocious cats and the neighbor dogs didn't pay them much attention. I can't decide if it's more cruel than just killing them outright, but at least this way they have a chance. If they live, they can eat all the spiders, and keep the kids entertained. Honestly, I'm surprised at how fast a chicken can run.

We are enjoying a sleepover with the Washington cousins. Both E and C keep us in stitches. Hopefully, they are having an equally good time chasing livestock, watching Gilligan's Island, and competing in a popcorn stuffing contest.

"..... and then, Arlo took your Dad's and Milton's goat out to the desert, killed and butchered it. He told the boys it ran off, but he just gave the meat away. Grandpa Rhoades later said, "That was the best wild goat I'd ever tasted." I don't think the boys ever knew."

Perhaps, one of the reasons I enjoy old people is that they randomly slip out little confessions. Although, I suspect that it's not the first time she has told that story.

I am suspicious of the large, brown egg found in my coop by little neighbor girls who have mature Rhode Island Reds. My banties are not due to lay until late September and will always have smallish eggs. It was fun to consider that they might be laying already, though.

The summer has been spent so far running here and there; neglecting the yard and house. I prefer not to go anywhere this week until Friday. Friday is my 20th high school reunion and I am decidedly out of town.

Can you just see it? Dad cutting out well designed "Missing Dog" posters. Mom in tears. Sad son on the porch looking wantonly down the street. Dog comes running down the street. Kids squeal and cheer. Dog jumps all over. Mom cries. It could have been a rerun for a badly acted film, but it wasn't. It was my morning.

So, the day fleshed out with a small, country town parade, and big family BBQ. Tim brought fireworks and lit them in the driveway while Preya cowered in the van. An excellent day.

You know, my life is just oddly blessed and weird enough for me to wonder if there aren't cameras hidden everywhere. I can only imagine my life on film would be a warped mix of Hallmark drama, Cosby comedy and Survivor unpredictability.

There are two sides of me and they don't get along very well. There's my tough, gritty side that sits still in church and other long surgeries, and then my mushy side that shrinks at killing the roosters and bawls it's head off when the dog who is terrified of fireworks gets lost in Rigby on the 3rd of July.

What are you doing? I thought the little kids were playing with you guys.
"Awe, Mom. We're just talking....... you know, girl stuff."
Oh, you mean like shaving your armpits?

Her cousin blushed and accused M of sharing secrets. But I had only guessed and hit it right on the head. Teenage girls are not so different than they used to be.

It was a perfect day spent splashing, eating, and putting a puzzle together. My sister, K, hates it when people blog about her, so I won't. I won't embarrass her by saying how proud I am of her for finishing school, or how much fun she is to be around.

"I'm not usually so photogenic, but Wow! I look good with your chickens. My dad wants to get chickens. It's not allowed in Springville, so we might put them in the window wells."

The girls sleeping on the living room floor are super nice. I'm glad they had fun with the animals. They sing in Montana tomorrow, and Calgary the next night. Normally, I wouldn't have hosted, but they were begging for volunteers in Relief Society. Besides, it is just for tonight. The program was nice. They've at least given us a good laugh.

"I always paint my fingernails conservatively. But with my toenails, I go wild."

The best part of being the photographer at a party is that you are less likely to be hit with a water balloon. It doesn't give you total amnesty, but it helps.

I'm so grateful we are stable enough to have visitors and play.

Special thanks to the wonderful neighbors who mowed our lawn. Apparently, they got tired of waiting for the goats to eat it. It's not perfect, but I'm still working on the animal mowing methods. Maybe, I should add a sheep.

for ashley, who just found out

Hi Ashley,

My name is Brenda Franson. My husband, Scott was diagnosed with cholangiocarcinoma in April of 2007 and went through a chemo/radiation/transplant protocol at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. The treatment was taken from the Mayo protocol. I'm grateful Arne emailed me with your post because I haven't kept up with the psc support group for a while now.

I hear your scream of frustration loud and clear. Yes, it is extremely agonizing getting everything sorted out and treated and cholangiocarcinoma is so serious. Take a deep breath. I'm praying that I can give you the information you need.

Ok. About the immediate concern of getting your mother in earlier to the Mayo. I was impressed that they could get her in within the next three months. I think trying to get her in earlier is a waste of your energies. I know you are frustrated, but just by the date of the appointment I can tell that someone is advocating on your mother's behalf to expedite her care.

So obviously, the treatable window is extremely small for cholangiocarcinoma, BUT your mother has not been ruled out of that window. It is a great sign that they are even referring your mother to the Mayo. If they thought viable treatment was not an option, they would not have gotten her an appointment, let alone one so soon. .

Infiltrated does not necessarily mean that the tumor is going into the vessels. It usually means that the tumor is outside of the bile duct which does not always mean it is the end of the world. What I did NOT see in your post was the word "metastasis" which carries almost certain mortal finality when dealing with cholangiocarcinoma. The lack of that word in the report should give you additional hope.

With even the best news the Mayo clinic can give your mother, which would be that she qualifies for the chemo/radiation/transplant protocol, it is a long and painful road. Your mother will need all the support she can get. She will need you to advocate on her behalf. She will need you to research it out and find every available comfort, and most importantly, she will need you to breathe calmly and hold her hand.

It is the hardest thing to be a caregiver and have absolutely no control over the situation presented. It is excrutiating to watch someone you hold so dear suffer so terribly knowing there's nothing, absolutely nothing more you can do to fix it. So, you end up doing what you can, which unfortunately ends up mostly to be breathing and holding her hand.

I always felt like we were walking through hellfire which made the Stop, Drop and Roll crisis control plan ironic. Stop fussing, Drop to your knees and pray/ drop anything nonessential, and Roll your efforts into those thing that will be effective in helping the situation. Again, you still end up breathing and holding her hand. Overall, it is one, grand damn.

So, Scott is one year out from transplant. We are dealing with other health issues, but cholangiocarcinoma is not one of them. I do believe we are forever beings and that this life is just a little slice of the bigger picture. So, while I am not too terribly afraid of him dying (It would be really unusual if he didn't someday die, don't you think?), I am grateful to have him here and now. We can hope, and pray, and love, and do our very best, and still come out short, and learn that God loves us enough to work it all out in the end.

Many prayers for you and your mother,
Brenda Franson

By the way, I think it is a crock-the idea that God will only give us challenges He knows we can handle. I've always wanted to slap people who told me that.

Oh, and "patience building experience" is just another code phrase for hell. Really.

Great. Now, I need a vacation because we took a vacation. So grateful to be home.

We were planning on going again this weekend to another family reunion, but I'd rather get a root canal than get into the car with kids for any extended amount of time.

Wait..... I am getting a root canal.

"Mom, that was UN-comfortable."
But why?
"It just feels wrong to take a bath in your clothes."

So perhaps, she won't ignore me the next time I call her to the tub. Perhaps, she will just just use the incident as fuel for some future session of psychotherapy. Either way, the kid is clean, tonight, and the mother is wickedly entertained.

"Uh, that might be a peanut butter sandwich?" It wasn't. I pulled out the moldy bag of semi-liquidated sandwich next. I hauled two, black garbage bags out of the girls' room filled with crap for the dump. It was rather cleansing, although I think I should charge for my services, next time. Seriously.

We were not lost. I just chose to take the scenic route home from Egan Lakes with the Ruebushes following. It really seems like that road should go straight through, but it never does; not even after the third year trying.

I am holding three, large stuffed animals hostage with the promise of taking them to the DI in one week if she can't earn them back by doing jobs without being asked. Who knew that a 12 year old's soft spot would be an old gorilla? I will take more each and every time I have to nag her to do a job. Surprisingly, she was much more respectful and loving tonight than she has been for quite some time. Everything has been so helterskelter the last few months, perhaps she just needs a parental reset to get things going in the right direction again. One thing is for sure, if this is a cry for attention, she'll be getting it.

I'm not sure if Scott had a good Father's Day. He cooked and managed the kids while I sat on the sofa drugged up on decongestant and still sniffling. Poor guy. I am so very grateful to have him. I have fought long and hard to keep him. He really is worth every bit.

And then, after a wonderful dinner of grilled salmon, they let the kids ride around on little 4-wheelers. I shared coupon secrets with Cindy, and Mike and Scott talked about national disasters and politics. Great fun. Thank you.

"Scott looks good. From your blog, I couldn't tell if he still had the feeding tube or was not eating or what........."

Scott is doing rather well. He barfed up the feeding tube after about 10 days with it and has not missed it at all. Just recently, he is getting hungry and eating more. The prednisone has helped immensely, but not fixed the digestive distresses. It has also caused him to be incredibly irritable and jumpy, and he only sleeps about 3 hours a night. Although, he said he slept last night which is a major blessing. He is looking much better with some color in his cheeks.

I am fine even though I have a sinus infection and plan on staying in bed all day which never happens because the mother is never allowed to be properly sick.

I lost my forest green suit top and the BYU-I standard issue exercise shirt to the experiment. They had bubble gum embedded in several places. I rarely exercise, but that was my favorite, all occasion jacket. The moral of the story is do not let your children do your own personal laundry- just each others'.

In spite of my prayers, it has rained heavily all week long, but should clear up just in time for the girls to come home from camp. They are in tents.

My parents are so excited to finally be able to shower in the cabin. It will definitely be worth the time it took to tile. I think my next endeavor is to get the bedrooms sheetrocked, but that will have to wait for another week or so or next month. There's a bunch going on; Dr appointments, allergy shots, a root canal, family reunion, a wedding.......

Scott has a great blog if you need entertainment. I love his post for today.

The girls entertained themselves this afternoon by hypnotizing the chickens. I'm so glad that they have mastered this skill as it is sure to come in handy the rest of their life.

Ginger goat has found a new home with an elderly gentleman in town. We will miss her ways of tangling her tether into intricate knots, hanging herself from the little tykes play set, and screaming when it rains. Oddly, I think it will be Scott who will miss her the most. He has enjoyed watching all the goats with all their personality quirks.

Oh, the joys of living in the country: I'm trying to decide exactly how to explain to C that the cows next door are not playing piggyback. She's so fascinated. I just know that whatever I tell her will be broadcast to her entire 5 year old world: her church class, complete strangers in the grocery store line, our dentist........ There are no secrets at my house, ever.

Maybe being frozen to death in the pouring rain or electrocuted by lightning will be a character building experience. But since they both have pretty good character already, I am praying that the weather will be moderated towards the fair side for girls camp. They leave on Tuesday, and as always, I am soooo grateful to be considered too nuts to handle chaperoning girls camp.

The only thing more frustrating than a tooth ache is a teeth ache where you suspect that you will be having several root canals before the week is out. I am so annoyed and will be furious if it infringes on my tiling endeavors in Island Park this week.

Church was fine, but the highlight of the day was visiting with Cerese who was passing through on her way home to Mackay. We are all looking forward to time spent there in the mountains with her. There is always a party wherever Cerese chooses to go.

The trip home was not without it's usual conflicts, but the wedding was wonderful, and the wedding dinner which Adele cooked was excellent, and the balloon floaty thingers at the reception were fun, and the Wintertons were delightful to visit. I just need a little break and then maybe I'll feel sane, again. Frankly, a break would be anywhere I am not. Since I am with myself even when I go to the bathroom, even that becomes torture.

Sweet Pea is looking conspicuously rounder after not seeing her for three days. I have such high hopes for her to have kids. According to the teenager from whom I purchased the goat she could, but not for sure, be due anytime between July and August. It's anyone's guess as pygmy goats naturally get as wide as they are tall, and really don't show signs of imminent delivery unless you count the BLAAAAAAH right before the kids come out. At least that is what I was told.

As per usual, I have no idea what I am doing.

How nice to have the odd man back working feverishly and ferociously on a project. He's really not unlike the mad scientist exacting experiments in the lab, but he does his most exquisite work this way. It's best not to interrupt; just shove food under the door occasionally, and wait until he resurfaces in a week or so.

I've discovered that grace is not like riding a bicycle. Not at all, in fact. It is painful each and every time you relearn how to ride out life on grace. There are bruises and scrapes and tears and when you finally think you have found your balance everything gets pitched into the barrow pit. And it's not that I'm currently in any particular side ditch, it's just knowing that there will always be something to toss me over the edge that makes it all rather discouraging.

A good day.

And then I remembered why I don't bother having a fishing license and handed the bungled line and tackle back to my sister. Disgusted, it took her 15 minutes to sort it all out. But hey, I wasn't there to fish.

It's a much nicer cabin now there's a flushing toilet, but Scott still can't come until there are working sinks and showers and a quiet place for him to escape. So, I'm going back on Wednesday to do tile, and again next week to sheetrock the bedroom. Hopefully, Dad will get the sinks in soon, because the plan is to spend a huge chunk of the summer in the mountains. And it would stink to always leave Scott home.

Who took the dang remote?

It was a total overreaction to Scott's low-grade temp. He felt tired, but was happy to go to dinner tonight with the school's guest artist. The labs were fine.

Really, there's nothing wrong. It's just that I've lost the remote to turn off my crisis mode.

M grilled 3 racks of ribs for 18 people, tonight. It was a huge success. I am willing to purchase any ingredient or cut of meat if it means she will cook. Oh yes, I am all for that.

Yes, it was a good day. I'm working really hard not to expect it again tomorrow. I'd much rather carry no expectations and be pleasantly surprised, than expect something fabulous and end up severely disappointed by just a mediocre day. It's really the same day; just a different attitude.

I had not ever spoken to him, even though we have been neighbors for over 6 years, and it was one of the most pleasant surprises: A big, surly man with shockingly kind, blue eyes full of indeterminate depth. I brought his wife some iris starts, and he not only brought me the scrap boards I had been eyeing from his pile, but he brought them all made into garden beds. The extreme kindness of it caught me off guard, and won my respect. It makes me wonder what other quiet treasures the neighborhood might hold that I have overlooked.

Another good day; working and playing with the kids; managing the summer with relative simplicity. I really do love my life.

It doesn't happen very often, that feeling of overwhelming awe and gratitude that feels a bit like the wind has been knocked out of you........ and it didn't even happen today.

Nonetheless, I am intensely grateful for a nice day where Scott felt good enough to go to work, and the kids did their jobs without much fuss, and had practiced enough that I didn't feel like it was a waste of money taking them to their piano lessons, and I remembered their orthodontist appointments, and we all fed fish at the neighbor's pond, and Kathy took the kids for the night of cousin fun and movies, and Scott and I watched TV and talked a long, long time while eating ice cream, and everything seemed good and right for a change.

A rare day. Want to hold on. Better avoid gripping the day too hard for fear it will slip through and be gone, gone. Better to just let it ride out not knowing when, but hoping it comes again..... and soon.

They split the cost of the pogo stick and bounced the afternoon away. N refused to co-invest and is banned from pogoing until she divies up two dollars. I think it's fair fare for a rusty pogo. Other finds at the DI included a swimsuit for M and some shorts.

Skipped two bridal showers, but didn't feel too guilty about it. Slept on the grass while M and A played at the splash park(I only take children who finish their jobs in the allotted times). Napped again once we got home. Tacos for dinner. Walked through the neighborhood holding hands with Scott. Weeded garden. Scratched goats. Tucked in kids. Trying not to feel too guilty about not taking back my primary class. Not really ready to teach, but not really wanting to go to Relief Society either.

It is a really good home teacher that will bring a green cheerio to band your goat. Who knew male kids become virile at three months? It's been the source of many a discussion this week at our house. You do have to feel bad for Whiteout with his weak little blaaaaaaaaaaah.

Covered the rest of the garden with large sheets of cardboard, cut holes and planted a mass of squash-ish vegetables: spaghetti squash, acorn squash, black and yellow zucchini, butternut squash, and two types of pumpkins. It's a lot of squash considering only M and I eat it. C eats it on a rare occasion. I'm thinking the neighbors will want to start locking their doors come August.

It was the last day of school. The kids are excited so far, but I'm trying to decide how to structure the summer jobs. Oh yeah, it's gonna be a great summer.

I'm 80% sure Sweet Pea is going to have kids. Her little teats are a little bigger, and she is rounding out. I can't hardly wait because she had triplets last summer.

It looks like we ended up with 4 roosters. There's not much of a market for roosters, so they'll probably end up as chicken soup. Hmmm.... isn't it interesting that most of the male gendered animals end up banded or boiled?

Blaaaaaah........

I'm not happy about Scott being put on high dose prednisone to control the IBD, but the other just hasn't been working. They call it inflammatory bowel disease because they don't really know what it is, and it's not solidly fitting into any diagnoses. At least Scott is managing it all a bit better and seems to finally be recovering from the surgeries. We're not doing perfectly, but better.

As always, it's a pleasure to spend the evening with Jan and Bill. Good food, good company, and great support. Thank you.

Mindy and Gary gave us a big TV and a DVD/VCR player from her parents' house. So, I took the 10+ year old, little TV to the porch and embedded a hammer in the screen with a "Happy Re-Birthday" note knowing it would achieve several things.

I was not disappointed with Scott's reaction although it scared him a bit more than I had anticipated. The kids were equally shocked, but thrilled with the new "theatre" (it's much bigger than our old TV). It made for a fun day not likely to be forgotten.

Really, I've always wanted to do that.

It's mostly from pms, but you never recognize it as the source of your brains screaming three days straight until they stop. And the extreme landscape of emotion has only been accentuated by Scott's re-birthday; the 1 year anniversary of his liver transplant. I hadn't anticipated this milestone being so traumatic. I guess, I'm hoping it's mostly from pms, as I prefer to not stay this way forever. My family prefers that also.

At least, the afternoon was pleasant: picnicking beside Grandma's grave, eating dinner at Mom's, visiting with family.

I know better than to comment in Relief Society when they are talking about something so dear to my heart. So I sat thinking about the dozens conversations the kids and I have had over the last two years with the basic gist of this:

"Is Dad going to die?"
No. I've been comforted that he will not die, but that it will be really hard. Even if he does happen to die, it doesn't matter. We've been sealed in the temple. We are a forever family. We are only here a little while, anyway. Everyone dies, and that's OK.

I heard them parrot that answer back to each other; reassuring each other with great faith and support. Not unlike Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, they emerged primarily unscathed from the searing flames of Hell. And it was their unwavering faith in God, Jesus Christ, and the temple blessings that protected them.

I could never verbalize all that without bawling my head off. So, I just held it in; crying mostly through my nose through the lesson. But then, I had been asked to say the closing prayer and the emotion just poured out in great sobs while I tried to end the meeting.

No, nothing is wrong. I'm just grateful to have had my family sealed for the eternities; to have been carried thus far through such high heat.

Have you ever considered that the only burdens you carry are those you chose to shoulder by yourself? Not that there are ever a lack of crushing weights, just a lack of willingness to set it down and let the Savior take it on.

I feel like a child collecting rocks, but forgetting to put them into the path by the garden. It gets heavy and messes up the wash besides.

It was a trap.

Soooo...... who exactly is in charge of the finances?
"You are?"
Who exactly is in charge of cooking?
"Uh, you are?"
Who is in charge of the laundry?.......

Madchen's eyes got big. She knew, first, where this was going. But they all caught on pretty quickly.

The animals?
"YOU are."

The tone more resigned and monotone, now..............

Car repairs?
"you are."
Watering the lawn?
"you are."
And just who do you think will have a nervous breakdown soon if she doesn't get more help?
"Uh, you will?"

The mantle of stewardship needs to take a serious shift at my house. The adjustment is sure to be a bit painful. The forecast: stormy with intermittent mushroom clouds over South Rexburg.

I wonder if I should pack a rescue inhaler. I could borrow John August's. I can just imagine myself having an exercise induced asthma attack right in front of Naomi's 6th grade class. She's so excited and begged, begged me to chaperon the trip up R mountain. That's fine. I'll live, but I refuse to ride the bus with 60 shrieking monkeys.

Refuse.

How satisfying to find that it is well over half done, ten of the sixteen squares. Hopefully, it won't take another two years to finish. I love that an occasional knot out of a tidy spool of thread can add up to something so stunningly beautiful. It makes me think I shouldn't be so irked about being unraveled and tied in knots every now and then.

Scott had a good day. He's working on a new felting and embroidery technique for illustrating digitally. He must be doing much better to feel good enough to work, again. Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry it was a permanent gig, this purgatory.

So, Ginger is definitely not a willing participant in the new adventure, and the Little Tykes play set is not working out as a milking stanchion, and at it's best there are little red hairs all over in the milk. Do people just strain those out and drink it anyway? She's a goat. Naturally, there are clumps of poo in her hair. Hmmm....... I think it was great fun to dream about making goat cheese, and have no problem allowing her to dry up. No loss, and the kids have some fun memories of wresting the goat down and pinching out milk. Poor Ginger. No wonder she doesn't want to play.

On to the next adventure...... EVERYONE home all day and all summer long.

Yesterday, we separated the does from the little buckling who I thought was too young for such aggressive behaviors. The mother goat has been bleating ever since, and I thought it was because she missed him. But no, it took me till tonight to notice her milk bags were tight, and she was desperate for relief. Here, I thought he was all weaned.

Scott will have nothing of it in any way, but we milked Ginger and it was great fun. The kids were amazed. Even Mindy from next door got in on it and did well for her first try. No one is keen on drinking the milk. I wonder if we will get enough to make cheese or butter.

Hmmm...... we could make soap. I wonder if Scott would use goat soap.

A knight on a shiny, red lawn mower.

"I just haven't been able to find words since my last stroke on Sunday."

My dear neighbor had been trying to say that we are the same; we're both eccentrics. I avoided filling in the obvious truths by thanking him again for his services, and he rode away feeling gallant: a knight on a shiny, red, Toro lawn mower.

His hospice nurse comes on Mondays. I wonder if she is as surprised as I am every time he makes it through another week. Honestly, I am perfectly capable of mowing the front lawn (the back lawn has been delegated to the goats). But, it would have terribly been cruel to deny him the joy of being needed, especially at this hour of his game, and it made him so happy. Besides, it really did help me to not have to deal with the lawn today.

I took 6 months of soured milk jugs to the recycling, and month old garbage to the dump, and Scott's fecal samples to the lab. So, while yesterday was crappy, today was only smelly.

I'll take that.

Scott ate 2313 calories, today.

I'll take that, too.

Cried all through the session. Came home just in time to pull the tube out of Scott's nose when it bunched up in his throat as he threw up. Cried. Talked with Salt Lake. Cried some more. Asked God where he might be. Cried. Kirsten dropped by to tell me that God knew I needed a hug and is mindful. Cried. Tamina sent rolls. Cried. Mindy fed the kids. Cried. Mom called. Took a bawl break. Randy brought manure and dirt for the garden. Doing better. Renae brought me some Dr Pepper. Better still. Scott not in pain or nauseated after eating a bagel. Relief. Did not have to go to the ER. A gift. Kids healthy; in bed. Thank you, Lord, and thank you for ending this day.

It was well worth the effort of making egg rolls tonight. I'm glad we had company to share it with. And I'm glad Scott was able to eat a bit, even if it didn't stay with him for very long.

I purchased 30 boxes of bandaids and 36 boxes of feminine protection pads for $48, today- normal retail value: $300. It was a good coupon fix. One of the keys to living abundantly is that you give away half of everything you acquire for free, and at least 10% of everything you pay not so much for. So if you need some let me know.

Thank you, Bev. It is an exquisite gift. Really, wow.

Thank you, Carol. I love love the footsie vase and flowers Charlotte brought home from your preschool for Mother's Day. Also, it's been a joy being in scouts with you.

Thank you, Emi and Kirsten, for dragging me to laugh a whole hour twice a week.

Thank you for the phone calls and emails, and your prayers, and the breads, and the soups, and your simple friendships. Most especially, thank you for your prayers.

The word from Salt Lake is that, "......these things take time." My nerves are grated on the fine side meant for orange rinds with this. It doesn't feel right, and I don't like it. We are going down loaded with information gathered off the web in two weeks. I can't handle any more, "It sucks to be you." appointments. We had enough of those pre-transplant. I can't even express how I loathe this state of medical limbo.

Scott is maintaining, at least. He ate socially over the weekend. I guess, I'm going to have to put him in more social situations if I want him to eat anything. He really is trying but is frustrated. Everything seems to just gag him.

It was a good weekend, and is leaning towards a nice week with the kids.

It is pretty cool all finished granted I still need to fine a cover for where the top boards meet. I would post a picture, but really can't since I don't even post pictures of my children (note to Emi that I on purpose did not say kids) and to post something, but not the most important somethings seems wrong and I'm just too lazy to post pictures, anyway. So, you'll just have to come see the new chicken tractor in person at our house. It's a child's play toy, really, with little doors and twist handles and a ramp for the chickens to get up to the roost. The chickens seem to love it.

There are these things that are completely out of my realm of control so I'm not even going to try. It's a waste of my energy. So, I'm going to transplant the tomatoes into bigger pots, and thin out the flower seedlings; haul in enough rotted straw for the new garden bed (I'm trying out square foot gardenining); and feed grain pellets to the goats who are always happy to see me and eat whatever I feed them. There's the kids' band concert at 11:30, and RAD kids at the fire department at 1:00, and the girls are doing baptisms at 4:30. Too many pleasant distractions to be fretting over the obvious. At least, that is the lie I am telling myself, today.

"I told the boys at preschool that MY dad eats through his nose. They said that's awesome! I told them it was NOT awesome." Her delivery was priceless.

It's really not awesome at my house, but at least the day was tolerable. Of course, I couldn't get any work done with a high wind advisory. S0, I napped and read a book while Charlotte played at Sophie's. We all spent the evening in Rigby. Scott was forced to eat since his mother cooked dinner, and was watching to see if he would. And we visited with Grandma Turner. So, it was a fine day- not an awesome 15th wedding anniversary, but fine enough.

My good face is wearing off and I can't find the spare. Consider yourself warned.

Day two of waiting for the Dr to call back. No, Scott is not any better. Yes, I am tired. No, I did not get anything done today. Yes, the chickens are still cooped up without a run.

Any other questions? Talk to the hand.

Ok, so it's sad that the chick died, but does anyone else think it is funny that a five-toed chick named Cinco died on the 5th of May?

The chicken tractor is mostly finished, so I put the chicks in the roost for the night with the door closed. They huddled in the corner, anyway. Maybe a little more space doesn't make any difference to them.

It should be a busy, but good day: a play, babysitting, catch up on laundry a bit, find something that Scott would eat....... that's pushing it. Better just stick with the achievable.

Maybe, I should have told her about the time I got up to give the closing prayer for ward conference, started to cry and ran out of the chapel. I was terribly sick, anyway, but it was the catalyst for a yearlong nervous breakdown.

The advantage of having been a basket case so many times over, is that you eventually learn that life just cycles through those times naturally. It's nothing personal; just life. And if you can hang on and wait, the tide eventually turns back enough for your head to pop up and breathe.

The rains came down. The floods came up. And the house on the rock stood still.

You'll be fine. Be still.

Went to church. Skipped the nursing home. Napped. Ate super tamales at Renae's.

Hoping Madchen doesn't break her neck on the rollerblades; Scott tolerates the feeding tube and feels better; the chicken tractor finishes up nicely; the new goats are more friendly; the sun shines a lot; the garden goes in great............ lots of hope for another week.

Pfft..... another week.

Scott has had transient nausea, but it seems to have eased off. It would be a bad thing for him to barf up a feeding tube.

Other than that, Charlotte is lispily losing her third tooth. Scott is becoming an expert origami-ist. Madchen is turning 14... eeeek. Naomi knows what Madchen is getting and can hardly hold the secret. John August is upset he was sent to bed early. And me? I'm just happy to be here not in crisis; not on the edge; not totally nuts.

Madchen and Naomi barfed all morning. No sweat. Madchen still barfing. No sweat. Tried to fix fence. Bolts too big. No sweat. Garden boxes fell apart when I moved them. No sweat. Chicken tractor plans were deceptively simple looking. No sweat. Didn't get finished. No sweat. Scott walking the neighborhood looking better. Love it. He still hates the feeding tube. I don't care. Barbara brought me rotisserie chicken. I laughed and feel loved. Mindy next door is also barfing. Offered her some suppositories. Kirsten called. Yes, I'm doing much better. Twelve hours of sleep does wonders.

Tired, but fine...... and crabby.

Scott's pump stopped working. They are sending another tomorrow. Meanwhile, he is eating the best he can- pork chops, potatoes with gross gravy, and Ann's rolls. Thank you, Ann.

The chickens are comparatively very big, the house is very clean, and we are very tired. But we're home and happy to be here. The kids all seem no worse for the wear, just incredibly chatty. I forgot how loud the normal kid noise is.

Scott's symptoms and pathology results don't quite fit into any specific inflammatory bowel disease diagnoses, but for all practical purposes they are calling it ulcerative colitis. The initial treatment is conservative, and will work up to more aggressive regimens as needed. About 25% of persons with ulcerative colitis do not respond at all to treatment and require having their bowel removed. We are hopeful for the best.

It's all Scott can do just to keep the hose in his nose. I've seen this crazed frustration before; a combination of discomfort, sleep deprivation, and uncertainty. I expect it to last the whole month with the feeding tube.

As for me, it's full force for the Stop, Drop and Roll; maintain the minimum, and forget the rest. Except, I really can't forget Madchen's birthday, or that the chickens need to move into their new home, and that yogurt at Albertson's is on sale and I have double coupons making them free...........

I used to think that prayer could align the cosmos on your behalf, but I was wrong. Prayer aligns your heart with God's will. Prayer is a coping and communication mechanism for us, not for God.

So, I've had a hard time praying, lately. I'm not happy dealing with these issues again. And I'm a little angry with God's will; feeling like we've already done our hard time. I have not been a willing participant in this trial.

I recognize my discontentment as being driven by entitlement, the nemesis of gratitude and humility. Entitlement being the driving force of pride, being the fall of many people and nations.

So, I'm praying to be a little more grateful; a little more content; malleable. Because I think in the end, it will not matter what you have been through, but that you were faithful and diligent in all things with which you were entrusted.

Yes, I know. I have a lot more praying to do.

We are gearing up for our dr appointment tomorrow afternoon. The nurse, today, said the biopsy showed a low-grade colitis. I'm thinking that was not very definitive or helpful. I am so annoyed. Please, let them be able to do something for Scott.

Love the new pump. How nice to have an auto-feed mechanism hooked to your husband. Maybe, I could get one installed in all the kids, too. Ok, so it's not that nice, but what if?

The day was quietly plagued with homesickness. I am losing my grip here in Utah and need to go home.

An improvement on the feeding tube: a pump. Scott is much less nauseated, thank goodness.

We are still waiting to hear about pathology results and treatment options. It's hard to be patient when things are a lot less than comfortable for Scott. I don't want to come home without resolving some of these issues, especially if it means we will just end back up in the ER.

You know, the whole ambulance/life flight gig is overrated. Scott doesn't remember any of it, and they don't even let you push the buttons.

We had a fun brunch with Sam, Mackenzie, and Katie, and played card games with Jan and Bill, and talked with the kids on the phone. So, it was a quiet day which I chalk up as a good thing.

Thank you for all your support and prayers. Really.

The three of them were so frustrated; asking multiple times each over just a few hours, "Anything. Is there anything I can do or get for you? Just name it. What do you want?"

I could've told them that all I wanted at the moment was to take off this wretched bra and devour a whole rotisserie chicken drenched in ranch dressing, but they really don't know that side of me. And really, what is there to do with all this that isn't already being done? And what allowance of control has God given me that I can afford to want anything anyway? Has He not spared the man's life for another day? It's a clear situation of, "You git what you git, and you don't throw a fit."

So, wants have mostly dissolved and needs concentrated into just a couple of categories. I need Scott. I need to know that my children are safe and happy. I need a crochet hook and some thread, some antidepressants, some whole grain cereal, and some chocolate...... oh, and don't forget- some rotisserie chicken.

Yes, I want Scott to be comfortable and healthy. I want to sleep a bit more. I want to go home. But wallowing wants are a waste of time and energy, and breed discontent. Happiness here is only to be found in the contentments of good enough.

I need to remind Scott's mom of her invaluable role in taking care of my children. And she and John were so generous to drive the children 5 hours just so I could hold and love them. And all of their prayers. His sister's prayers, too. They are frustrated at not being able to do anything. Maybe, they don't realize that I rely so very heavily on their prayers.

Usually, misery is all relative to what you have experienced in the past, but not so when dealing with nausea. Nausea to any speakable degree and duration leaves you begging for a timely death.

So, I push the syringe very slowly. Even then, the man turns a bit green and it takes a long, long time to get 8 ounces in. I think I want to find a higher calorie formula and use less volume to hit that 1500 calorie supplement goal. Also, at this rate of administration it is not reasonable to expect a person to do two night feedings. I'd rather push tiny bits in all day than stay up all night. Besides, the Mahana-you-ugly, thrives on sleep deprivation. Trust me, no one wants to meet my Mahana.

I'm having a hard time with Charlotte losing a second tooth without me there, but I'm missing all of them. John and Kathy are bringing them by tomorrow afternoon. Such a long drive..... thank you, John and Kathy.

"Hi! I'm Cindy! We want your stay, today to be as comfortable as possible. So, if there's anything I can get for you, let me know....... an ice water, a warm blanket.... Oh! Of course, only your wife can have the water...... Oh! Rexburg! I love Rexburg! Oh! I guess I just went on a little trip down memory lane......" She went on and on all chirpy and rehearsed as if on a plane for the seven dwarves, but she left out the part, "The exits are to your right and to your left, and if the hospital happens to flood, your seats may also be used as a floatation device." We thought it was weird, and after the nurse came and acted the same way as the receptionist, Scott asked if he had died and gone to purgatory.

We'll know for sure tomorrow, but our Dr is certain that Scott has CMV........ or Chrohn's........... or inflammatory bowel disease........ Ok, so he can see that something is severely wrong and is positive the histology report will dictate the next steps. Hopefully, whatever treatment they choose will work miracles and we'll be able to get on with our happily ever afters.

The feeding tube is not painful, but a lot less than comfortable. I'm hoping he'll adapt quickly losing the nausea. It's miserable, but still much preferred over having a colostomy.

There is nothing good to be said about a bowel prep, and the unpleasantness does not end there.

So no, we are not going home. We are staying another week. We'll see what they find with the variety of scopes they are using tomorrow, and hope Scott gains weight with a feeding tube.

One day at a time...........

Scott's perspective improved loads after I took a nap. Funny how that works. He's been able to eat and drink which is encouraging. Hopefully, he will get some sleep tonight and we will be good to go home after clinic tomorrow afternoon.

I would like to get home in time for pack meeting, but that's really pushing it. John August and a bunch of the other Weblos are getting their Arrow of Light award. We'll see. It might be pushing it just to get home at all.

Scott refuses to go for IV fluids. He is so driving himself if he needs to go in at 3am. No, I guess if he's going to behave and live I'll take that and run with it. What's a girl to do, otherwise?

So, I went to Home Depot with Jan's unlimited credit card and bought supplies to plant her cute, six pot, patio cart. There are not a ton of flowers, but two strawberry plants and lots of herbs, my favorite by far being the rosemary that I put in a deeper pot since it gets so big.

I think I might just prefer plants to people, right now. Don't ask me why....... no reason........ really.......... no worries........ yep..........

Not a good night. We at the very least are going in for IV fluids.

No crap, and now too much crap.

Crap.

We made it out of the hospital, and to Jan and Bill's house.

So, everything worked out in the end, but they still didn't discharge Scott from the hospital. They always want to keep you one day more than you can stand. The man is so tired and hasn't slept more than an hour at a time since we started this on Tuesday.

I can't forget a special thanks to Jan and Bill for keeping me alive and laughing. I don't know what I would do without them.

Today was uneventful, intestinally speaking. No outbursts, darn it. And I've been as good of an example as I've dared. Historically, it takes him 4 days to get going, and that's tomorrow.

I think he's holding up relatively well, more patient than I've ever seen him, really. He's sleep deprived and sore. I told him I wanted to stay until clinic on Wednesday, and he didn't even protest. Maybe, he's just resigned.

The care package has been quite handy. Thank you, Adele. I didn't know deodorant could come in flavors like watermelon. It has left me craving bubble gum.

Scott's doing incredibly well. Although, he cannot leave the hospital until it is clear that his intestines are all moving. Where else in the world can you go where everyone cheers when you fart?

Oh! Charlotte lost her first tooth, today. She was sooo excited. I'm sad to have missed seeing her slurp pasgetti through the gap in her teeth.

Special thanks to our visitors, and to the kind neighbors taking care of our animals, and to our parents who are caring for our children, and to my sisters whose care package from 6 weeks ago is still providing comfort and distraction, and to everyone for your faith and prayers.

It's even easier to play the glad game when things are going well. I can't tell you how glad I am that I scoured the groady toilets, cleaned our piggy room, and did all the laundry Tuesday morning. Scott's mom has been at the house with the kids all this time, and it was bad enough to have driven me crazy.

It's been a super glad day with Scott walking all day around the 6th floor; not having any nausea; not being in the ICU with septic shock, and not having a colostomy. Knowing how well he did with the bile drain, I can confidently say that having the added stress of managing a bag would have sent him right over the edge. Glad is not nearly strong enough of a word to describe how I feel, but in honor of Pollyanna, glad does just fine.

Does it mean you tasted bad if purgatory keeps spitting you out? Maybe we tasted good and are being blasted out the other end. Let's see.... It's been pretty crappy- check; violent, unpredictable bumps- check; sometimes you feel stuck- check. Yes, everything is pointing to another "riding through the bowels of hell" experience.

Ooooooh, so that light at the end of the tunnel isn't necessarily...............

I need to buy some Charmin.

In spite of everything, I feel like there is a lot to be grateful for. Scott's parents were able to stay with the kids while we made a midnight run to the ER and have them still; my parents were able to drive my car down to Salt Lake while I rode with Scott in the Life Flight plane; it wasn't a perforated bowel after all, even though they had to open him up, lay out his intestines, and tuck them back into his body just to be able to say that his colon looks perfectly healthy; they didn't have to surgically remove his colon and give him a colostomy like they promised; I didn't run over any cats or pedestrians on the way to Jan and Bill's house..... the list goes on and on.

The bad news is that they still don't know what is causing all the pain and intestinal distress accompanied by uncontrollable vomiting, and that he has a major surgery to recover from. At least he is such a good, patient patient. ......enter rolling eyes........

So, I am headed to bed with some night-time cold medicine on board. There's always hope for tomorrow when, surely, my brains will have come back, and life will be appropriately crappy once again.

I'm Stan's sister, Brenda.

He didn't recognize me, but had commented on the extreme amount of peanut butter I was purchasing. It's been years since I last talked to Stan's ex-father-in-law, and even then, we were only casually acquainted.

I heard that Jamie is remarrying.
"Oh, no. She was engaged, but broke it off. It's a good thing. She grew up with only dysfunctional men." and he pointed to himself. "She really can't keep a relationship."

I had not anticipated such a frank confession, and for once, had no idea of what to say. I've thought about it a lot, though; wondered what might have been different had things not been so screwed up.

It's going to be an interesting night. Naomi is coughing and has the hiccups. John August is running a fever. Scott is barfing. I have a sore throat. Madchen is itchy all over from her allergy shots. Only Charlotte is faring well with a very wiggly tooth.

My primary concern is for Scott who cannot afford to be sick. The rest of us are likely to be just fine. Randy and Hyrum came and gave Scott a priesthood blessing. If he gets any more sick I'm going to have to haul the man's hiney to the emergency room. I called Salt Lake. For sure, we will be going down for a colonoscopy as soon as it can be arranged; probably next week.

We prayed, but Carol and I arranged an alternate activities just in case. I'm so grateful the weather cleared in time for us to take all the Weblos scouts up the bluff. Such a blessing to have that done with. Special thanks to Dallin and Ty who gave us an educational tour on the hike, and taught us that lamb's ear is a hiker's best friend.

Madchen asked me what I do all day while they are at school. The pathetic thing is that I couldn't answer her. It's a good question.

No one is up, yet. I think I will just let everyone sleep in and fend for themselves after I leave with Charlotte for kindergarten registration at 7:30. Why they have it at 7:30 in the morning........ Anyway, I will get there, and Charlotte will be thrilled to take their little test and blow them out of the water with her reading abilities. I have no idea what they will teach her in kindergarten that she doesn't already know.

Easter was very nice. I didn't make any baskets; there were no egg hunts, or huge presents. We did decorate eggs after church and made cards to take to Agnes. She had made baskets with more than enough candy and the kids were thrilled. We had a big dinner with family here at my house, took a nice walk and called it a good day.

The party at the church was great last night, as was Ethan's baptism, and playing with Diede cousins, and dinner, and the piano recital today.

Angela visited and I shared garden seeds for her to plant in California. I sure have missed her.

Easter dinner is at my house tomorrow afternoon if you would like to come. Everyone is invited, because it is a big ham. I picked ham over turkey, because cooking turkey has not always worked out for me. I guess if anyone could ruin a ham it would be me, but just like most everything else, it all turns out to be just fine, and not worth the worrying fuss.

There are truly, honestly those days that you kind of, mostly, really hate everyone and everything that might demand any kind of attention. So, it was not a great day for Agnes to ask me to run a few errands, even if they were to make Easter baskets for my very own children. I'm pretty sure that any blessings that might have been chalked up for that one were nixed out by my bad attitude.

Scott has the next 4 months off from work. It's all part of the new, 3/4 contract offered to the teachers at the college. He spent this first day exclusively in his computer room; hiding from the hostile native defending her territory. Yes, there is going to be an adjustment period here.

The chicken coop is taking a bit more time than I had anticipated. Luckily, the chicks are still small. I am making a portable chicken tractor because I want them to eat the hobo spiders off the lawn. I'll still finish out the shed as their winter quarters, but not until I've finished their summer home.

I tried to bribe John August with a dinner date to skip the DARE graduation. He was so conflicted over the decision that I rescinded the offer. If he cares that much, we'd better just go. I can think of a million other things I'd rather do than sit for 90 minutes on a rock-hard bench. Maybe, I should've thrown in a movie.

Scott came home really late, but I can't be too upset; just grateful he is going to work at all.

It is supposed to storm the rest of the week. At least we had this one day of glorious weather. Charlotte is so badly sunburned. I should've slathered her down, this morning. I don't think either one of us realized we would be out all day.

Preya has stopped eating her dog food. I don't know how to get her to stop eating goat poop. We are trying to recycle, but............... At least she doesn't seem sick.

I used to hate sitting and listening to General Conference, but I really enjoy it now. It always leaves me feeling like God really loves me; that I can make it through all this rigamarole. I enjoy sitting, listening; doing quiet crafts with the girls, and Scott and John August usually pull out the legos. It's the only time, anymore, that I crochet. It took me 8 years to finish this last, big doily. But, what can you expect if you only crochet twice a year at General Conference time?

So, the sessions run 10am to 12pm, and 2pm to 4pm Mountain Standard Time on both Saturday and Sunday. Each session has different speakers, and you will listen to the prophet and apostles. You can live stream them from online at lds.org, or listen to them later, I think, on that web site. You are all invited.

My prayers, tonight, include Aunt Caleen, who just had a mastectomy this morning, and all her family, the Pitsenbargers, the Pfaffs, and our online cholangiocarcinoma family. God Bless all of us, though. There doesn't ever seem to be a time when we don't need a bit of divine intervention.

The 11 remaining chicks are doing great in the garage with a heating lamp. I have a wire mesh over the top to keep out any predatorial cats, and curious sheltie dogs.

"I named her Lazy Daisy because she doesn't move around like all the others, and cheep all the time........ and when I hold her, she doesn't move much............. and there's a bunch of poop on her bum....... but she's my favorite because she is the fluffiest, and the prettiest out of the 4 yellow ones."

So, I did my best to unplug the little, lethargic chick, but she still died this morning. Naomi was devastated, sobbing; praying for her to come back. I cried for Naomi's broken heart, and maybe just a little for an adorable, lifeless chick.

It was a very good call not to get meat birds. If a one-day attachment yields this much emotion, I do not want to see what would happen on a mass, carnage day where the feathers fly. Naomi is so very close to being a vegetarian, anyway, on the grounds of, "Animals are people, too." I don't think she could ever eat chicken enchiladas knowing it was filled with Eagle, Stripey, or Stormy. And maybe, neither could I.

The funeral has been postponed to this afternoon. Naomi wants to do it properly with a labeled rock, and in a special place by the coop. You're all invited to join us for a moment of silence around 4:30 for the day-old chick, Lazy Daisy.

She's full grown and comes to just above my knee. I think it might be safe to say we got another, sweet-tempered dog, but this one eats grass, and poops tiny raisins. Naomi's job after school is to give her a bath. Being the size of a smallish dog, I don't think it will be too hard.

Scott made me promise not to get any more animals. At least they are all miniatures: 12 banty chicks, one pygmy goat, and one little sheltie dog. Scott is being quite patient with it all, but is likely to blow should I acquire anything else. I haven't told him there's a very slight chance that Sweet Pea might kid in July....

.... and that her last batch was triplets.

blaaaaa......


No, it's not an April Fool's joke.

Nice, nice day. The weather is supposed to return to nasty the rest of the week. I thought it was rather kind of the Lord to take pity on the Weblos leaders who needed to make a tent from a tarp and then teach the boys how to do it.

The kids are a bit big for tickle tussles, but I humored them, chasing them all over the house while they screamed like little girls. It was rowdy fun that was sure to end with someone hurt crying, but it didn't. When it was time for bed, I simply set the timer for 10 minutes with the promise that anyone up when it rang would be folding clothes- two big batches.

I just told Scott that I am looking at purchasing a pygmy goat doe. He's not too happy about it. I think it would make a nice, little lawn mower. I could make a little portable enclosure with a little, doghouse-ish house in it. I would think Scott should be relieved that I don't plan on force feeding the family goat milk.

We took Preya to the nursing home, but came right home instead of trekking out to Terreton in a blizzard. I would rather not be blown off the road in the desert tundra sporting nylons, heels; towing children and dog. I'm hungry for my mother's cooking, but not crazy.

It was great fun to listen to Norma chatter with excitement over the dog, and then over Charlotte who gives her a hug every time. She doesn't usually make any sounds, just smiling; holding our hands as we walk. It's a win/win for us to go even if it is a bit of a hassle. The residents get a bit of attention while my children learn a bit of compassion. Plus, my children are less likely to claw each others' eyes out if we're not home all Sunday afternoon...... in a blizzard......... at the end of March.

So, I have to wonder who you are. Why do you peek in on my life? There are so many blogs; so much information.

And then, I have to wonder why I would write at all. Why should it matter? Why is having a voice so satisfying?

Everything is well, again, at my house- my definition of well being that Scott drives himself around, and my whole existence does not seem to hinge on a set of labs, or the next unexpected phone call. Perhaps, I can even start again pretending to have control in the same way everyone else pretends to have control. Who knows but that my playing house/playing sane might turn into the real thing.

I'm not talking to you until after you go to school.

Morning is not my best time. Actually, neither is evening. Lately, I think I peak at about 2pm for about 15 minutes, and then the rest of the day is just shot. Thank goodness, I finished the taxes in those 15 minutes.

Things really are getting better at my house. There's a general feeling of relief and release. It's not unlike the feeling of cold water being poured on my scrambled, fried brains; not entirely comfortable, but better. I promise, I won't complain for the lack of a happy medium here, because I'm just so happy to be away from the most severe of the extremes.

Special thanks for the dinners. They tasted fabulous, and were high calorie to boot.

I haven't shopped like that since Scott was on chemo; when I was so desperate that I would pay anything for something the man would eat. So, my freezer is now full of potstickers, lasagna, chicken pot pies, precooked seasoned chicken, creamies, juices, and anything else I could find that was high calorie without any vegetable content. The situation is critical with the man looking disturbingly similar to an Ethiopian refugee. Well, I can guarantee that someone will be gaining weight. Pffft......

The deal was if she pulled her own teeth I would buy her a carmel shake. So, I took Naomi out to lunch while Scott was getting IV fluids. It saved me having to pay the dentist, and gave us some much needed one-on-one. She thinks we need to do it every week. I told her she doesn't have that many teeth.

Charlotte just told me that Preya pooped in the Larsen's house. I told Mindy she wasn't housetrained. She is a sweet dog, though. Scott says she walks fast. Scott needs to walk faster, so that's a good thing.

I could just kiss that bus driver.

I am doing taxes, today. Unfortunately, in the mishmash I have lost the w-2's, 1099's, and all that blahdiyadda the government deems necessary. I've kept busy sorting receipts, and prayed that they would magically show, but no. I am going to have to take drastic action. Yes, I am going to have to clean my house.

Scott is doing better. The medication seems to be working, but the metallic taste makes it almost impossible for him to eat. The dr has re-prescribed an appetite stimulant.

I am also having the brakes fixed on the van, today. Is it just me, or do my brakes seem to be wearing out all the time? I'm beginning to wonder if there is something wrong with the way I drive.

We think Scott might have c-diff or CMV, so things aren't exactly settling down as much as I would like, but I'm over thinking I have any control. It's almost easier once you give up control. You just float, more or less, and trust that God will take care of it.

Honestly, I am not really very fond of floating. I'm just tired and need a good cry to reset my attitude. There's nothing wrong with that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x_-TQivCx8

I tried to embed a video, but am too technically challenged to figure it out, so I left the address. No, I cannot figure out how to link it, either, so you are stuck with a copy and paste. It is about Mormons and why we have temples. I thought it was excellent and wanted to share.

I've pulled out my grit, and am ready to go to scouts. I really, really do not want to go. But, being sucked dry already, what harm can it do? If you are a warm body that can at least make it there, the Lord is often merciful shoveling grace in to fill the cracks. Being an empty shell leaves a lot to fill, but I'll be there.

Shovel away.

Thanks, Jan, for writing us even when things are so crazy. We think of you often and love you tons.

I am trying to gather tax stuff for turbo tax, and tempted to just haul it all into an accountant. Sigh........

I went to support Adele while my nephew's fiance took out her endowment, yesterday. I got seriously snotty sneezed on. You would have died barfing or laughing. I was giggling/gagging. Oh!

Adele brought up the temple quilt she has been working on forever for the wedding. Her fingers have split and would not have had it finished by next weekend. I had friends come over, and we had an old fashioned quilting bee. It was a good time for everyone.

I made homemade chicken noodle soup for Adele and family. It wasn't as good as yours, but nourishing/nurturing all the same.

My neighbor has black lab puppies. The kids and I were trying to soften Scott into letting us get one, but he would prefer a smaller dog. So I have been looking at shelties which are little Lassie dogs, only I want one with shorter hair. We found one in Cedar City, but don't know anyone headed down and back that way. If you happen to hear of anyone who could conveniently bring back a small, trained dog, please let us know. There's also one in Willard at a shelter, but it is younger and not likely trained. We'll see.

Much love,
Brenda

"So, I said, "Because you're verbally abusive. It's wrong, and nobody should have to put up with it." And he said, "But why?" and I used your broken record routine. I said it again just as we practiced, and he went away."

I'm so proud of her.

Many thanks to the rescue quilters at my house, tonight, who saved my sister's sanity.

"He said, "You don't do your hair fancy, and you don't wear makeup. Do you always do what your parents say? You're just a Molly Mormon. Why do you have to be so good all the time?" And then he said, "Your mom doesn't wear makeup. Your dad wears a bowtie. Your parents are so mean, they don't even let you dye your hair." He was yelling it across the bus."

Did you agree with him? You should tell him he's absolutely right. He totally forgot to say that your father is a computer geek whose original liver lives in a jar. There are so many things to tease about. That's all he could come up with? You're good all the time? Now that's severe. Next time, tell him that your mom is only being true to her inner Mahana, and could beat up his dad any day.

I don't usually intervene, but he's been aggressively teasing her since second grade and has started exhibiting some stalking behaviors. So, I called the school's transportation department. He's not supposed to be riding her bus, anyway.

There's an art seminar tonight. If Scott feels well enough, we'll go to dinner with the guest artist and the other teachers, and their wives. This would mean I have to abandon my Mahana, and wear something besides yoga pants. I'm hoping just a bit that he is too smashed to go.

Wow. I saved so much by going to Sam's Club. I am going to really enjoy that dishwasher detergent for all it cost me- $179.80. Yes, I suppose I also needed cooking oil, and tortillas, and milk, and cheese. No, it probably wasn't the best idea to get so much of each, but I wanted to make it worth the trip. It just feels like I spent a lot on dishwasher detergent, because that was the only thing I really needed right now.

Scott's a bit discouraged that he is not feeling any better than a man sent through the wringer, but his labs look wonderful. I don't know what he's expecting- it's only been three weeks today since he had surgery. You'd think he'd milk it a bit. Maybe that 14 months not working and spending 24/7 with me traumatized him into working as much as he can no matter how big that incision is.

I have to be careful of what I pick up. If the book is too big, I am up till sunrise. Three hundred pages to midnight is just right- I can still function in the morning and yet, feel satisfied with having escaped for a good bit of the night.

"Sophie, I know something that will calm us down......... cleaning the toilets."

I hadn't thought it possible, but Weblos has broadened my definition of purgatory.

We had a wonderful family home evening at my parent's. The kids would pick an ancestor off the pedigree chart, and Mom would tell us the stories she had compiled. Very fun.

They had hauled him off, luring him out of the house with the promise of a turkey dinner, to the nursing home; cleaned out his house, and filled the dump with freezers and freezers of the miser's hoarded meat stash. He was a miserable man, but he had the last laugh. When he died, they read his will to find that his money was in the frozen parcels labelled "fish".

It was years ago. I don't know why I was thinking about it, but it still makes me laugh. I love, love that it is absolutely a true story.

Honestly, I thought God had lost His grip on the situation when the artery dissected, and then was absolutely convinced of this when they couldn't bypass the artery and just tied it off. The situation was so thick, I could not see the miracle, and panicked. And so, I did what any reasonable person would do: I screamed bubbles, face down, into the mud of it. Maybe, it just seemed too easy to roll over and look up.

I've thought a lot about the priesthood blessing Scott received before surgery, and admittedly, am embarrassed that I did not have a bit more faith. He was promised that there would be such a miracle that the Drs would not be able to deny that God had intervened; that he would recover quickly, and live to testify of Jesus Christ the rest of his life.

So, here we are. Scott's liver labs are still picture perfect. On a limited basis, Scott is back to work. Already, it's almost as if nothing happened. It feels a bit like we've been through the spin cycle, set out to dry, but not much worse for the wear of it. No, I don't think anyone can argue but that God truly has intervened on our behalf.

For me, it all serves as a rather harsh reminder to wait for the miracle; stop, drop, roll it over to the Lord, and breathe. The miracle is there. It's always there. Just wait for the miracle.

Seriously, I am eating absolutely everything I can, and Scott is still losing weight. Pfttt.....

I was not expecting a call from Dr Hopkin's nurse. I had forgotten all about those biopsies. And before she could tell me they were safe, the blood left my head and the room swam.

I hate that all it takes is one phone call to derail any false sense of security or illusion of control. Pfffft...

Scott's at work. If all goes as planned, he will have stayed 6 hours, today. So far, so good.

I dropped Scott off at the college, this afternoon. All went well. He's tired, but not completely smashed- much better than I had expected.

Scott is doing well, maybe having overdone it a bit today, but it was a nice day nonetheless.

I preferred being with them over having to sit still and reverently in a Sunday School class. We would play and they would sing good and hard for me. So, after several hundred singing times, I feel a bit of vested interest in all of the Primary children. And it's not that I intentionally picked favorites, but there are some children in particular that I have thoroughly enjoyed watching grow up.

So, I noticed when Trevor kept singing when the other boys deemed themselves too cool on the back row. I noticed how grown up he looked in his first suit. And after we sang him out of Primary, I was always happy to watch him pass the sacrament, which he did with reverent enthusiasm.

When the deacons were asked to keep their hair styles conservative, so as to not distract from the sacrament, Scott and I wondered if it would be a problem since several of the boys had multi-colored hair. We were deeply impressed to see, the very next week, Trevor's hair was unfrosted. Such a small thing, but it revealed respect and obedience.

Last summer, he literally bounced/ran over our half acre of weeds with the lawn mower, and never seemed bothered that it was blistering hot. He brought tools, and I told him that he needn't bother trimming, since I didn't care whether the yard lived or died, but he would have nothing of it. I was amazed each time he came, and wondered how many times he had come while we were in Salt Lake dealing with other things.

It's been such a pleasure to know Trevor. Thank you. Thank you, also, for your strength and testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Trevor's was the most comforting, uplifting funeral I have ever attended. I am so grateful I went.

God Bless the Walkers. Heaven knows they've been a blessing to us.

Just for the record, we have never seen Hellboy 1 or 2. Thank you, Valyn.

So, Scott plans on going to a late afternoon meeting, tomorrow, and returning to teach classes on Monday. From what I can tell, he's running at about 68.3% of normal capacity. Pretty amazing for a man that had 46 staples removed yesterday. I think he will do great. At least, that's what I'm hoping, because he's absolutely miserable to be around otherwise.

It's unbelievable for things to flip from so bad to so good. I'm not complaining, but I'm not completely convinced we are done with this gig, either. Please, Lord- at least, give my brains a fighting chance of coming back before they're all spilt out again.

We're home. Scott's doing well. Kids are great. Back to real life? Hmmmmm....... we'll see.

Hi Diana,

We are doing quite well, actually. I have Scott out of the hospital. We are staying at his cousin's house till Thursday as he has a dr appointment Wednesday afternoon. As for the house, my mother has been there all week with the kids. No worries.

We've had such huge miracles this last week, and against such bleak odds. To have the artery closed off....... I was hysterical knowing he would need an immediate re-transplant- oh! to do that again- and yet, he doesn't and he's fine, and his liver labs are COMPLETELY NORMAL!!!! No one can question but that God has intervened on our behalf.

I'm thinking that I should never get so worked up about anything, because the Lord has it all figured out. I've wasted so much energy this week going berserk. "Be still, and know that I am God." keeps coming to mind, and there's so much untapped strength to be had in being still.

Emi called this morning to tell us about Trevor. We are grieved and praying for the Walkers.

It pains me to see the Lord take such great pains to spare one good man's life, and yet have another one taken in an instant. I don't understand. It must be one of those things that you have to shove under the blanket of grace or go insane. Hopefully, "Be still, and know that I am God." will absorb even the most intense landscape of emotions.

much love and loyalty to the sisters,
Brenda

In retrospect, I can see that I probably should have been a little more aggressive in getting his pain medication switched to something else, last night. But, the dr was worried it might make him more nauseated, and honestly, I don't usually mind if Scott is a bit snowed while he's in the hospital. He's so miserable otherwise. This, however, was quite a bit over the top of being tolerably stoned.

So today, Scott went to work and critiqued student art, and talked to Wade. He saw the kids come and go in the room; Charlotte danced, and Naomi poured birdseed all over the floor. When dietary came, Scott told them we had taken the kids to see the movie Hellboy 2. Cars drove through the halls, and ants crawled all over his hands and the floor. It was one hallucination after another; random pieces from his life jumbled together in a visual soup. He was always courteous and polite, though; laughing often with the people that strolled in and out of his dreams.

It is a bit worrisome. Thank goodness, he was much improved by the end of the day, and the drs assure me it won't be permanent. Although, it all leads me to think that our senile years might end up as being pleasant and amiable even if, perchance, they are not lucid.

Thanks to our visitors, today. The blanket is wonderful, and we do feel loved.

Not a great day, but considering that all his liver labs are holding, I can tolerate his nausea, and medication induced hallucinations. He thinks he might be dying, but everyone else is thrilled he's doing so well. I guess it's all how you look at it.

Three of my sisters drove 4 hours to deliver a care package just for me, and then drove the 4 hours back. It was very sweet. Another sister dropped by with her family after driving 2 hours, and had lunch. Thank you. Another is in town, and I am hoping to see her in the morning. I am grateful for great support, and the many prayers. Thank you, thank you.

It's too early to tell, for sure, but Scott's labs suggest that his bile ducts are not suffering, and his liver is working very close to normal. We have been made aware that things might look great for months only to have his liver then die off slowly, and there would be nothing to be done about it, but to wait for him to become sick enough for a re-transplant. But, just for now, just for tonight, let me dream that it's possible, although not probable, that we will walk out of the hospital in just a few days, and never have to deal with nasty liver stuff, again.

Do I dare even ask for such a miracle?

Yes. Yes, I do.

Scott's doing well. He is being moved out of the ICU to an intermediate unit sometime this afternoon. No one can tell me what is going to happen next, because they don't know. We are all just waiting to see what happens.

Waiting, breathing, praying......... this routine seems so familiar..... hmmm......... It worked out, before. We've been blessed. It will work out, again.

Thanks for the prayers and support.

I am encouraged after speaking with the surgeon, this morning.

#1) The liver has two blood supplies. I didn't know that. All the blood from the pancreas, stomach, and intestines travels through the liver through the portal vein on its way back to the heart. It's used blood, but blood nonetheless, and people, albeit mostly children, have been known to survive on it. Scott's pretty youthful, so the probability of it being OK increases a lot.

#2) The hepatic artery had strictures, an aneurysm, and a blood clot. Chances are that he wasn't getting a solid blood supply from it, anyway. Also, it doesn't look like it happened overnight, and that the liver may have been compensating by developing new blood vessels out from the portal vein. This theory is supported by the fact that Scott's liver enzymes have not spiked significantly, this morning. This is fabulous news. I am encouraged.

#3) Should it not work out, Scott will still be able to be re-transplanted, which I think would be hell, but since there is nothing I can do about it, I will take what I can get.

Today's agenda: Recover from major surgery. Walk. Drink that awful drink that is supposed to bring his potassium down and give him diarrhea. Not pleasant, but no more unpleasant than what we've seen.

I had understood that if they couldn't accomplish the graft that Scott would instantly be re-listed for transplant as a Status 1. But, Dr Sorensen said that a minority of his patients who have their hepatic artery closed off do just fine with only the portal vein supplying blood to the liver. I don't understand it at all, and we won't know if Scott falls in this category for a couple of days. He also said that the liver failure usually happens relatively slowly, although some go into a crisis right away. So, re-transplant might not be an absolute, immediate must.

I saw Scott in the surgical ICU. He looked good; was still sleeping. I know the night nurse from when Scott had his transplant, and trust him, so Adele and I came back to the hotel to sleep.

I guess it's at least something to have the day end with everyone dear to you breathing. I'm just so grateful the day ends.

Mercy.

I've had worse days, but not many.

So, they were able to put the stent in the artery, but then the artery dissected, meaning the inside layer of the artery split off, creating a flap that cut off the blood supply to Scott's liver. This is bad, very bad.

So, the transplant surgeons have thawed out a cadaveric artery they happened to have in the freezer next to the peas, and are doing a bypass surgery of sorts as we speak. If they are unsuccessful, Scott will be re-listed for transplant, get the next available liver not matter what shape it is in, and he will be fine.

Any questions?

Adele and I have a room at the University Guesthouse, because it is going to be a very long night, and I can't barbarically eat a whole chicken in the surgical waiting room, barefoot and without a bra. Trust me, it's better this way.

The nurse will call me every two hours, and the Dr will call me personally when he finishes.

I have never seen surgeons so somber. Pray for them.

We really did have a wonderful weekend. Children's Discovery Center with the kids, Scott's birthday party here at Jan's, lunch at the Dairy Keen, sent the kids home with John and Kathy, dinner at Adele's. Very nice.

So, I have a whole day of picking my nose; waiting for tomorrow. Scott bought me 4 pairs of shoes, I'm trying out my new wrinkle cream, and we might go for a movie later. Right now, I am settling down for a nap. I know, poor baby.

To think, Tamina is stressed about how I am really doing.

Really, sweetie, I'm way fine.

Really.

I worked hard to keep it all down, and it paid off. That guacamole bacon swiss ranch burger and large order of onion rings is stuck to my hiney forever. It was close, but I did it.

So, we sent the kids back to Idaho with Scott's parents. It took JA a grand total of 3 hours to fall apart, and call sobbing that this arrangement is too hard. When are we coming home!?! Poor kid- anything unpredictable stresses him out of his gourd. I wonder who he got that from. Hmmm.....

Bill accelerated just in time so the careening car of unbuckled teenagers barely nicked our back bumper, spinning them into the bushes. It's likely we would've been hurt, but practically guaranteed they would have been considered prime donors. Do they even have any idea how close they came to being carved in stone? Crazy.

I don't like that all it takes is one missed stop sign, or a physician's phone call to crush your illusion of control. I'd rather keep lying to myself than acknowledge that all I have are choices; influences.

"Dad loves candy. Let's get him lots." So we did, and N wrapped it up in Christmas paper. I don't think he will be disappointed. I guess I could wrap the wrinkle cream I purchased for myself, but it probably wouldn't be that funny to him. Happy Birthday, Scott.

"Oh! That means I can stay with my friends!!!!" C is the only person excited about all this. I'm a little envious that I can't be 5 and make a party out of absolutely everything.

The appointment has been changed to Wednesday morning so another Dr in interventional radiology can help. They are canceling all other appointments and having staff come in early. We've dealt with IR enough to know they don't do all that on a whim. I think it's a result of having the transplant deities advocating on our behalf. I'm not complaining.

Also, to our relief, the procedure and the overnight stay has been moved to the Huntsman Cancer Hospital. It's much nicer there, and it guarantees that he won't be staying on the 6th floor of the University Hospital. Everything is going to be OK.

the scoop

Ok. Tuesday morning, interventional radiology is going to thread a stent into the hepatic artery. The transplant surgeons will attend and intervene with all out surgery if needed, but the hope is that this will fix the problem and we can get back to our happily ever after ASAP.

We are going to play at Jan and Bill's house for the weekend, and have dinner with Scott's family on Sunday to celebrate Scott's birthday. The dinner will be at Jan's and she is cooking, so it promises to be fabulous fun. Monday, we will go up to Heber to see the MaWhinney side of the family; the main draw being fried twinkies for Freaky Food February at the Dairy Keen. John and Kathy are coming home from helping Scott's sister move, and will bring the kids home, Monday night, where my mother will stay with them and get them off to school and such.

Any questions?

I guess I need to open the blog, again, for family and friends to keep them up to date on what is going on. I'm not excited about it.

So, Scott's been diagnosed with a hepatic arterial aneurysm. It's a rare complication of transplant. There's talk of stents, and surgery. We're not sure what's going to happen.

It's incredibly serious, but I don't think that Scott is going to die. I think if God wanted him at all, He would just let the aneurysm burst and get it over with without any fuss. Why go through all this trouble of finding it and dealing with it? No, it's just the standard pain in the patookas.

I so need some fried chicken.