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.