Nurses in My Life

There are 2.9 million nurses in the United States. My life is blessed because of the nursing profession.

My wife is one of them. For nearly a decade she has tirelessly worked the 12-hour shift occurring on nights, weekends, holidays, and regular days at LDS Hospital and Intermountain Medical Center in Murray, Utah in the newborn intensive care unit working with premature infants.

I’ve seen Lynnette come home so tired and emotionally drained because of concern over one of her patients that I’ve wondered what she’s been doing all day. Because of HIPPA laws she is not at liberty to tell me. However, I know somewhere out in our community there is a family who is better for having my wife in their life during a challenging time period to provide comfort and medical care.

As a professional patient living with a severe heart problem, I have not only fallen in love with and married one of the finest nurses, but I’ve been cared for by hundreds of these folks my entire life.

A couple of weeks ago, I was extremely fortunate with my wife to host a party for the many pediatric nurses who cared for me during my seven-week stay in Primary Children’s Medical Center when I received a heart transplant. They don’t usually see each other out of scrubs, so we enjoyed a wonderful time eating food, talking, and listening to several musician friends play music.

Photo: Some of my nurses from the PCMC CSU Unit

I could not think of a kinder group of people who selflessly serve and accommodate families without much public recognition. I can play a piece of music and an audience of a thousand applauds. Yet, these nurses tenderly and quietly care for individuals and no one knows about it except those involved. Such acts of kindness and service are the miracles distributed in the medical community.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Leaving through the hospital doors with my arm around Lynnette was breath taking. Was I anxious to get home? I still don’t know. Shock is the word I might use. I could not believe I was going home.

Picture: (Top- Becki was one of the many nurses who cared for me. I loved each nurse who dealt with the old man in the kid's hospital.)

Primary Children’s Medical Center had become my home and family. Leaving them behind was an interesting emotion. Of course, patients continue to cycle through their care.

Whatever joyous celebration we experienced in my recovery, the nurses caring for me signed off their responsibility and went back to work caring for the many sick children still fighting for their future. And yet, there is not much public recognition for these quiet and faithful employees who bless so many lives.

After picking sweet Eden up from a cousin’s home we drove up our street noticing the many pink and red heart shaped balloons my sister Carol had placed all over our front yard on trees and bushes. I was proud to know our neighbors knew this was a great day in our lives.

Picture: (Middle- Barb Wright began caring for me in 1975. She has helped thousands of cardiac kids in the EKG lab at Primary Children's Medical Center)

Our neighbors had mowed the lawn and trimmed everything. They even picked the tomatoes they had planted in a garden they helped create many months ago. I had told Lynnette I was looking forward to eating those tomatoes not knowing if that would really happen.

I expected to be home shortly before Thanksgiving or Christmas. My anatomy and symptoms were beyond anyone’s true comprehension. And we planned for the worse while trusting in God and his ability to orchestrate the events of our lives.

We have a quiet home on a peaceful street. Walking through our front door and observing the blessings poured out upon us from all our hard work over the years was humbling. Peace permeates the small rooms and strength fills the walls. I attribute this to Lynnette and her divine nature. She's created something beautiful.

This has been our refuge. We've had many challenges and decisions to make therein which would effect our future. There will be roads to take, and mountains to climb in our future. Amidst our future joy, celebration, and happiness, we will face heart-ache, pain, and grief. However, I find great comfort in knowing the God of Heaven is a loving and kind Father who will help guide us as we seek Him out. I'm reminded of these words from Harold B. Lee, “The most important work you and I will ever do will be within the walls of our own home.” Our souls will stretch and our wisdom will increase from our experiences and we will be that much more prepared to strengthen others who are going through hard times.

And might I add, if you are not a religious person or doubtful of such strong statements I make about God I encourage you to cling to goodness and those who want to be good. Serve them and befriend them. They will lift you. They will buoy you up when life gets dark and challenging. It is through their goodness that you will feel the literal arms of God around you.

Picture: (Bottom Right- Back home with the family)

Spending a quiet evening at home with my daughter and Lynnette was something special and nostalgic. I think Eden went through 4-5 outfits until we were able to get her off to a ballet/tap dance class in her cute pink tutu. Of course, she kept touching my chest to feel my heart. And from time to time with a vulnerable sweet smile she’d ask, “Dad, hold my hand?”

And now more than ever I know home is where the heart is. And with tears of gratitude in my heart I know I’m home to stay.

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As much as I enjoy maintaining livingforeden.com there will be one more entry and a short video of our journey. Then this blog will be closed until after the holidays. I’ll be spending time with family, compiling my message into a book, and preparing for a long journey ahead advocating the growing needs and education of those living with congenital heart disease, as well as organ donation.

Please visit me at my music site and sign up for the newsletter or go through the various options of finding me on twitter, facebook, youtube, and other places. I would love to keep in touch.

Deseret News | Savoring every day

Young family anxiously awaits heart transplant
By Carrie A. Moore (Published: Saturday, April 4, 2009)

Photo by Jeffery D. Allred

As a student nurse, Lynette Cardall knew enough about severe health problems to realize the gravity of her decision to marry a man with congenital heart disease.

Her father, left a widower when Lynnette was only 8 years old, had often told her "the hardest thing I ever did was lose your mom." So when she told him she wanted to marry Paul Cardall — knowing her fiance's chances of dying young — her father reminded her of his own difficult life experience.

"Just make sure you think about the decision," he counseled.

Click Here to Read the Article (DeseretNews.Com)

PICC Lines | Pick your PICC Lines.

This was a week of picc lines. (Incidentally, I should be grateful. Having a picc line with a good source of milrinone does make me feel better. So, being connected to a tube full time is not that bad.) I went in to the hospital on Monday because the area where my original picc in my right arm that I received 6 weeks ago was becoming irritated and red. We don’t want an infection so we decided to pull the picc and put a new one in my left arm. Only this time, I was not sedated like last time so I do remember the experience. Most adults aren’t sedated. But, I’m sort of a baby when it comes to needles and wires being thread through my veins so I usually beg for it. But, I manned up and went for it without sedation. We did the procedure in the cath lab. Needless, to say they gave me several shots that numb the skin before inserting the wiring and eventual picc. Like at the dentist when he numbs your gums before he drills. It wasn’t that bad. I went home 30 minutes later. Of course, my wife heard me say the whole ride home, “That wasn’t fun.” Oh well, I was happy to be home. After a few hours we noticed the leaking, slow leaking watery substance coming from where the picc was inserted. My wife, who is my home-health care nurse (lucky me), ended up changing the dressing over the next few days 6 times because of the leaking until yesterday I went in and had that picc removed and a new one placed in my right arm above my elbow where the original one was. Needless to say, the big needle wasn’t that bad and I made it home to watch the University of Utah destroy Alabama in a much-deserved BCS bowl. Let’s just hope this new picc doesn’t leak either. It’s only been a little more than 12 hours.

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A PICC is a long, thin, flexible tube known as a catheter. It is inserted into one of the large veins of the arm near the bend of the elbow. It is then slid into the vein until the tip sits in a large vein just above the heart.

The space in the middle of the tube is called the lumen. Sometimes the tube has two or three lumens (known as double or triple lumen). This allows different treatments to be given at the same time. At the end of the tube outside the body, each lumen has a special cap, to which a drip line or syringe can be attached. Sometimes there is a clamp to keep the tube closed when it is not in use.