What is it that you think about?

(This is me in 1987 recovering from post fontan open heart surgery - Surgeons opened my chest 3 separate times during this stay because of additional problems)

A close friend of mine asked me, “with your situation what is it that you think about?” That is a good question. When you’re waiting for an event to happen that could determine your fate what do you think about?

For me, it’s a chance to take a look back at life and reflect on events and who you’ve become and where you’re headed.

What consume my mind are what matters most to me, my playful little 3 year old and my beautiful angel of a wife.

It’s so unfortunate that millions of men don’t know what I am talking about. Comedian Jerry Seinfeld, who was popular for his long bachelor life, said, when asked about his new-found family life and fatherhood, “What the hell was I thinking? My child and wife are everything to me.”

A Heart for Christmas | Or Not

The call came at 12:45am. “We have a heart for you,” the voice on the other line said. I was in shock. I had prepared for the call but because it came early Christmas morning and the fact that it was a real call left me speechless and emotional. We had until 2am to get to the hospital. The operation would take place at either 6 or 7am.

I called my parents to meet us at the hospital. They called my siblings to let them know what was going on. Early that night, we had all gathered with the husbands, wives, and kids for our annual Christmas Eve dinner at my parents. It was a great night. We had a special family prayer and the kids acted out the nativity. My wife and daughter left to go home at 11pm. Before putting my 3-year-old daughter to bed we each opened a present. We put her in bed and then Santa came. Then the phone rang.

We arrived at the hospital feeling a great sense of peace and comfort. The time had come and I was ready. Nurses began the preparations. Everyone was extremely positive and saying things like, “Merry Christmas!” and “What a great Christmas gift.”

I received a rather larger IV and a lot of blood was drawn from my already existing picc line for lab work. They had me wash my chest and groin area (where the major arteries are for the heart lung machine) with special medical soap. It was a little cold. Then surgeons came into my room a little before 5am and told my wife and my parents what was expected. He mentioned the “difficulty” of my particular case because of my heart’s anatomy. It would be challenging to get the old heart out. There would be a lot of bleeding. He said, "There is an 80% chance we'll have to go back in later to help stop bleeding." He said chances are I might not make it. Although he had to talk about the downside or the surgery he also mentioned they have an 80-90% success rate with these surgeries on post fontan patients. But, the harsh realities left me a little depressed but I still felt great peace. I had understood the depth of this procedure previously but when you are minutes away from it actually happening life becomes quite sobering.

They came to get me at 5:20am and before the anesthesiologist took me into the operating room I talked briefly with my wife and parents. I kissed Lynnette, told her how much I love her, and then headed down the hallway.

In the cold, brightly lit, O.R., nurses lifted me from my bed onto that firm, narrow, operating table I have become familiar with over the years. I received a dose of versed (Midazolam) for anxiety and preparation. Before I went completely under we were waiting to hear from one of the surgeons, who had gone to harvest the donor heart, if everything was absolutely perfect and good to go. About 30 minutes later the news came. “The new heart had a problem undetected until they looked at it face to face and would not work,” they said. It had an aneurysm which would require some additional surgery on top of everything else we're dealing with.

I didn’t know what to feel. Shock? Relief? Disappointment? I have felt all of those things. Nonetheless, we called it off.

Lynnette and I came home 5 hours later to Christmas morning. My daughter, who had been taken good care of by my sister n’ law, asked if I brought her a sucker from the hospital and things seemed back to normal. I was anxious to experience Santa with my child. One of the gifts from Santa for my daughter was a Fisher Price Medical Kit. She practiced giving shots to me and listened to my heart beat.

I am thankful for the love and support of my family and friends, particularly my sweet wife Lynnette.

This is a roller coaster of emotions. In a way, this experience seems like a brief 2nd opportunity of time before we find out the real outcome of my life’s journey. I am ready for another call but for now I’ll enjoy this weekend with my wife and daughter as we humbly celebrate the birth of the babe in Bethlehem some 2000 years ago.
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Time, precious time
How quickly the leaves fall from the tree.
Time, oh precious time
In a blink of an eye a child grows old.
And in the pursuit of joy and happiness
Lies time
But quickly it fades
And all we have are memories
Precious moments
Remembered in time.
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106 days on the list. 15 weeks. All is Well.

106 days on the list. 15 weeks. Any predictions?

Despite the minor physical anxieties of waiting for a heart, always wearing oxygen, taking a bazillion pills, giving myself shots twice a day, and carrying around a bag of medication going directly into a permanent IV in my right arm, I have the larger anxieties experienced by those who are sick for a long time and happily married. Keep in mind that I am too tired to stay busy so all you have to do all day is think and reflect. Above all, you hope your wife, the love of your life, is happy, fulfilled, and appreciated because of her sacrifice, service, and love.

My dad is a journalist and once interviewed one of my hero's Howard Hunter, a former spiritual leader of the LDS church and community giant. The man was soft spoken and humble despite his enormous list of credentials and accomplishments. In the interview my dad asked about all the years that Pres. Hunter tenderly cared for his sick wife who later died in a rest home. "How where you able to do that all those years?" my dad asked. President Hunter with some emotion and pause in his voice said, "She would of done the same thing for me."

I'm also reminded of another time that I was at Bryner Clinic in Salt Lake to see my family doctor. While waiting I observed a feeble old woman waiting for the pharmacist to complete her prescription. She was with her husband. They were both very old, petite and weak. She sat in a wheel chair and was so tired that her head kept falling backward. And I watched this husband, who stood by her side, hold her head up, even though his hands shook and they had to wait for some time. I think he held her head for 20 minutes.

I also remember while serving a mission for my LDS church I was responsible for several missionaries of which were an old couple serving in a small mining town in California. Like all of our missionaries they were responsible to knock on doors and share a message of love about Jesus Christ. The wife had really bad arthritis and knees. At many times she couldn't use her legs because of the pain. But, she didn't want to give up. Her husband drove them in the car from house to house. He would get out and knock on the door while his wife waited. If people said yes to letting them he'd go to the car, open the door, pick up his wife and carry her into the home so they could do what they loved to do most which was bring hope to people through their message.

These several experiences that I observed are always on my mind. And I hope I get the chance to show the same expression of love and service for my wife who has so kindly sacrificed, served, and loved me through this experience. It is much easier to serve than to be served.

Good News!

We got a call this morning from Latoya informing us that I am now listed for a new heart. Man, it is kind of wild. . . sobering. . . and surreal. . .

On Friday I get a pager and if the batteries work they'll contact me at anytime. It might be 2 weeks up to 1 year. The heart needs to come come from at least 50 miles from Intermountain Medical Center in Murray, Utah. When they have a potential great match for my body the pager goes off and I head to the hospital with my 72 hour kit (or things I want to have for recovery). I have one hour to get there. In the meantime a thoracic surgeon travels to where the new heart is and carefully removes it from the donor. He or she will have a good idea from there if it will be a perfect match and if so they prep me for surgery. The thoracic surgeon brings the new heart to the hospital where Dr. John Doty will carefully remove my bad heart. Incidentally, he is the son of Donald Doty who did my 2 previous open heart surgeries where I almost died. So, I know I am in good hands. (The father has worked on the engine and can tell his son what is in there.)

This is a very difficult surgery because of my heart's anatomy. And there will be a lot of scar tissue from the surgeries I had early in my life. Finding the good tissue among the bad will be tough. He has to cut in the right places.

We have every confidence in the transplant team and in Dr. John Doty. He is a man of faith and said to me personally, "We will not lose you!"

Please pray for my wife Lynnette and daughter Eden. Pray for Dr. John Doty and his team who will determine the best heart for me. And most of all pray for the family whose sacrifice and tragedy will bless our family. I may never meet them or know of their loss.

What gives me comfort and peace? The love I feel from my wife, family, and friends. Thanks to all of you we literally feel the arms of God around us.

I also find great comfort in my faith. I know that God lives. Jesus is the Christ. He is my friend. Life is part of a three act play. We are now experiencing the challenges of the 2nd act. In time, all of us will begin act three as we wait for the resurrection made possible by Jesus Christ overcoming death himself. All of us receive that gift.

Some of us may need a physical transplant but we must also, all of us, experience a spiritual transplant. I strive for that every day of my life because I know I am far from perfect in kindness and friendship. But, through faith, repentance, and baptism we may begin the process of having spiritual heart transplant made possible by the suffering of our Savior in Gethsemane and on the Cross.

We all have are own challenges. . . I'm content. I could always be living in the country Georgia with Russians dropping bombs on my home or in Dar-fur with all my family and friends brutally murdered by genocide. . . . etc. etc. or even worse I could be considered a friend of Michael Jackson, Paris Hilton, or Brittany Spears.