This is basically to continue my story from the "Emergency!" post because it was getting incredibly long for one post.
The day of my surgery, I was pretty out of it. I know my mom, Dan, and Brian & Annie came to visit (and I think the first flowers showed up that day too). I remember talking with people, and maybe even talking on the phone. I was worried about the kid I was supposed to be tutoring that day, so I tried to get someone to call him to tell him my plans had unavoidably changed. The nurses brought me oxycodone, and finally someone brought me a bendy straw so I could drink the water to take the pills. I still had an IV - in my left hand, I think. The IV in my right elbow was gone. Every few hours someone came in to take my temperature, take blood samples, and take my blood pressure. It was incredibly hard to lift my arm enough for the blood pressure cuff to go around it. Mom and Dan talked, Dan used his computer, Mom talked on the phone, and time kind of drifted by. I remember at one point we decided that Dan would stay with me in the hospital, and the hospital staff brought him in a cot so he could stay right in the room with me. Brian & Annie went to get my car from work too (either Tuesday or Wednesday, I don't quite remember). My strongest memory of that first day is that in the evening a nurse came in and insisted that I had to sit up. I was laying on my back, and I couldn't even roll over enough to reach the left grab bar with my right hand; so the nurse helped roll me onto my side (ouch) and then propped on an elbow (OUCH!) and then they got me sitting up on the side of the bed - oh my goodness it hurt so so so bad it felt like things were tearing and ripping into my stomach right then and there and it was grey and woozy and I said I felt faint and I was saying something or crying or making noises that said it hurt and it hurt and it hurt and they helped me to lay back down and it still hurt and it gradually faded a bit and I felt less faint. I really truly at that point wished I had never woken up from that surgery.
Wednesday morning I was still pretty out of it. The hospital staff and nurses had taken blood pressure and temperatures and blood samples all through the night, so when my blood count went below 20 (it hit 18) the doctor came to say a transfusion might be a good idea. I think they made me sit up that second morning too - it was just as bad as the first time, with the same results of tons of pain (worse than pre-surgery) and feeling dizzy and faint. Since I was so faint and my blood count was so low, I received two units of blood. This was a little awkward, since my IV's kept bursting my veins (in my left hand, right and left elbows, left forearm, and left wrist). The fifth IV (inside of my left wrist) held long enough to get the blood into me. When we switched back to the fluids, we lost that IV too, but I begged the nurses, saying I would drink however much fluid they wanted if I could just not have another IV. I was drinking pretty well at that point, so they let me go without another IV. Phew. I think the next spot would've been my feet!
The nurses brought in a breathing machine to help me practice breathing steadily and deeply. At first I couldn't even hit the 500ml mark (later I found out my normal breath can hit the 4000ml mark). This at least provided some amusement, even though breathing deeply was yet another thing that hurt - it hurt more like when you are out of breath while running, which wasn't so bad at that point.
Also on Wednesday, they removed my catheter. I thought they had to be kidding - I couldn't even sit up and I was supposed to use a bathroom? After a couple tries with a bedpan, I realized that wasn't working for me, so we moved to plan B - the bedside commode. Sitting and standing were incredibly painful - with my breath coming in gasps I would stagger in place to turn my feet 90 degrees so I could sit on the commode. But somehow, luckily for me, I didn't hurt once I got there. I couldn't care for myself at all, and I was not at all impressed by the help the nurses gave me in cleaning up either. Read into that all you want - it's probably too explicit already. Wednesday night, I tried walking with a walker, and I made it to the doorway and then I started to figure out how to step only on my left toes and mostly use my right leg and turn and limp just right, while leaning most of my weight on the walker through my arms, so that I could walk without the bad pain. I mad it halfway around the floor (maybe 50 yards) and back into my room. Momentous occasion on Wednesday - they stopped taking my blood because my blood count stabilized. This meant I wasn't losing more blood, and I had enough in me that I wasn't dizzy and faint. This was especially momentous because they were running out of easy places to draw blood - the back of my right hand was all used up, as were both elbows, the left hand and the left wrist. The last blood samples were from a finger and then from my right wrist.
Wednesday night I set my own alarm clock so that I could remind the nurses to give me my pain medication regularly. I'm not sure if this worked, since the real pain was when I sat up and then stood up, and this continued into the next week. Thursday I started to eat a little more of my meals, and I had visitors. My boss and his wife came by, and two of my awesome friends came too. Annie & Brian came back every night I was in the hospital, and so did my mom. Dan stayed with me the whole time. Friday morning, the doctor came and told me I was going home that day. I was nervous about that, since it still hurt to sit up, stand, and walk, and I was using a walker. But the hospital had someone (maybe from physical therapy) who helped me to try out a cane, and she arranged for me to get a cane that I could take home with me. Thursday I took my first shower, and Friday I took my second. The hospital showers are so tiny, with a bench in them. This was perfect, because it meant I wouldn't be able to fall over even though my balance was poor. Dan went to the pharmacy, where he picked up pain medication for me. A lady came wiht a wheelchair and took me down to the lobby Friday evening, where my mom pulled up in her Explorer to drive me home. The bumps on the road didn't feel too good, and I still had to have help to roll over and to sit up and to stand up and to start walking for the next several days.
22 February 2008
19 February 2008
Emergency!
Sunday, February 10, I flew home from my Grandpa's funeral. I rode the bus from the airport to my mom's house, where I stopped and called Dan to come pick me up. My stomach was hurting, so I tried to relax - although it hurt for several hours off and on, I thought I was just having strong stomach cramps or something.
Monday, February 11, I worked at home all day - alone. I didn't do very much that was physically exerting myself, which was probably a very good thing.
Tuesday, February 12, I woke up at 5:30 and was out the door by 6:10. That way I miss the worst of the morning traffic (6:30-9:00 AM are typically stop-and-go), and I arrive at work by 7:00 so I can leave by 3:30-4:00 and get home sooner. After a couple of hours of work that morning, I took a break and visited a friend in a neighboring cubicle/office. (A cubicle/office is a slightly larger, single occupant cubicle with a shower door for semi-privacy.) After visiting for a bit, I stood up to leave, and my stomach cramped again - badly. I made a funny face and some excuse about being sore, and I walked out of the cubicle/office. I made it about 10 yards, when I felt faint, so I leaned on the windowsill for a minute. When this didn't help, I staggered to the really really uncomfortable chairs nearby and sat on my knees with my head down. Needless to say, the first passerby thought this was odd, so he didn't leave me there - he waited until the cramps passed enough for me to walk down the hall to my boss' office. I told my boss I was hurting and that I was going to try to find a way home. Then I stopped at my desk, but walking and sitting were so uncomfortable that I didn't feel good sitting there, so I went to see if it was a bathroom-related thing. It wasn't, but I didn't make it back out of the bathroom. I called Dan to tell him I was hurting, but he didn't have a way to come pick me up (I take the car to work because my commute is a lot longer). I started to hurt so badly, and I called my mom, but she was just leaving Idaho for her flight home too. I crouched down on the bathroom floor, looking like I was praying or something. Some other people came into the restroom and asked if I was okay, and I said "no I'm not okay" and one of them went for help while the other two helped arrange some magazines into a pillow and someone found me a blanket. Boeing Medical (on-site) came, and I started to feel really faint. They kept asking me questions - my name and address, where it hurt, my husband's name and phone number, and was I allergic to anything, etc. For a while I was so grayed-out that I could hear them but only grunt one word or no answers, then I was back more awake and they had me hooked up to a finger-clip monitor and they kept taking my blood pressure, which was falling to about 60, then rising back to about 100. One of the Boeing Medical people was a really nice lady who laid my arm on her lap to work on me and she had long thick curly light brown hair and khaki pants - strange the things I remember later. The worst part seemed to be when they tried to figure out where the pain was coming from. They pushed (probably gently but it HURT) on different areas of my abdomen, and they all hurt, none really better or worse than any other. The firemen came next, asking the same kinds of questions, and somewhere in here they put a heart-rate monitor on me (it looked so good one of them asked if he could keep that printout for his next physical). And they started an IV line since my blood pressure was so low. And then it was their turn to push on my abdomen and try to figure out what hurt. Everything. I almost fainted again, and at some point I stopped answering their questions, and then I woke up again. Somewhere in here people kept stopping by - my boss John, and a friend named Tony saw me as he was exiting the mens room door across the way, and Cathy came and she fussed in a very nice way. And then the guys from the ambulance came. The same question routine and stuff all over again (and pushing on me to see where it hurt, which was still everything from below the belly-button to just below my chest), and there was a discussion of where they were going to take me. I'm sure someone asked if I was pregnant a couple times too - I said "technically I could be I guess" but I also told them I had just had a wierd period and been on Clomid for the first time that month. Someone decided I should go to Swedish Hospital - I'm not sure who it was. There were lots of theories going around - something about pressure on the Vega Nerve making me faint, or the sympathetic nervous system doing something. They mostly seemed worried about the low blood pressure. I mostly worried about the pain I think. So they helped me to sit and then to kind of stand up enough to sit down on the ambulance tray ... I mean the stretcher. I had to keep my feet in and my boss John had had Cathy pick up all of my stuff at my desk and loaded it in my backpack and they rolled me out of the building and the air was cold but not for too long cuz we got into the ambulance. The stretcher goes in and out of the ambulance so easily - just like on TV or in the movies how the wheels just step up and down. Or the EMT's are really strong. The Boeing Medical woman was in the ambulance with me for a bit but she got another call before a block or so, so she got back out. So me and one EMT rode in the ambulance. The ride was very bumpy, and every bump made my whole stomach hurt more. The guy riding in the ambulance with me asked me some more questions, and then when they were 5 minutes out of the hospital he radioed in to say we were coming with a 28-year old female, with abdominal pain, and when the radio operator asked if I could walk into the hospital he said no I couldn't. I also shook my head at that, which he thought for a minute meant I could walk - I mixed him up but he got it right and I stayed in the stretcher. My arms kept falling over the sides of the stretcher since it is narrow and the bars on the sides were barely enough for me to grip with my thumbs to try to hold on to so my arms didn't drop to the floor. In the ambulance one arm was against the wall, so that was okay, and the other arm I put on the EMT's lap which he was okay with - it helped that I didn't have to hold it up for the rest of the ride. Plus I almost fainted again on the ambulance ride. I think it was actually the 4th and 5th time that I almost fainted - I was trying to keep count - and I think I greyed out twice on the ride to the hospital. Then we pulled into the ambulance garage and they opened up the back of the ambulance and took out the stretcher. It was two men at that point, moving my stretcher around. The garage looked just like a garage - with concrete walls and ceiling, and a door into the ER. In the ER they were directed to room #4, so they took me in there. A lot of things happened in room #4, so I probably won't get them all in order. They moved me to a different bed - I think by helping me roll onto this board that then they could more easily push, and then I had to roll off of it - a very uncomfortable and painful process. At first it was the same questions - my name and age and address and phone number and what hurt. And pushing on me to see where it hurt - this was the fourth time around and it still all hurt. I think they tried a covering oxygen mask, but it didn't feel good cuz I felt like I wasn't getting any air and I struggled with it. And they took my blood pressure - but the blood pressure guy said they would rather take it while I was sitting up. Later I found out that my blood pressure had been dropping to close to 40 when I was fainting, but I didn't know that at the time - I usually only heard them talking about it when I woke back up and it was coming back up to something near 100. I think they took blood samples in there too. I directed someone to get my purse out of my backpack and my wallet out of my purse so I could give them my ID and insurance cards. I told them that my mom was Wendy in my cell phone and my husband was Dan and Julie in my cell phone. Then there was just me and the blood pressure guy and he started to sit me up and I warned him that I would faint and that I was feeling faint but he sat me up anyway. I had enough time to tell him "I feel faint" and then I woke up with several more people around me, including the ER doctor. He was asking a question and I answered him and he was like "Well, see who's back with us." So he asked me more questions, and one was if I might be pregnant. I said "technically" and explained that I'd had an odd, extra-long period, been on clomid, etc. He got someone in there with a catheter. I asked if it would hurt and he said he'd done it before and it hurt a lot worse for men than for women. So they did it and got a urine sample for a pregnancy test. He also had someone give me an ER ultrasound which showed lots of blood in my abdomen. The urine sample came back positive for pregnancy. The ER doctor called in Dr. Harvey, the OB/GYN on call that day and she hurried to get me ready for surgery. She explained to me that they thought I had an ectopic preganancy, and that they would remove the prenancy and whatever else they needed to in surgery - either the fallopian tubes, or ovaries, or whatever else necessary. I think about now I heard Dr. Harvey calling for a surgery room - saying it was an emergency and they needed it in 10 minutes. She also reassured me that I would be okay and they would take care of me. Then I was taken to the surgery floor (I think they ran with me - the corners seemed pretty hard like they were turning pretty hard or having to slow down a lot). We went on the elevator, and the person taking me warned me about bumps and such. Then we got to the surgery floor. I think Dr. Harvey had to check in and then they took me to the OR. Someone asked to make sure I knew what they were going to do, and I had to sign something. Actually I had to sign several things in the hospital, and I'm pretty sure the ambulance guy didn't get his formed signed cuz it was one of the times I was passing out. Up in the OR, they started a second IV, and the next thing I really remember was waking up.
Still Tuesday, February 12, I woke up in the recovery room. There were a few ceiling tiles that had pretty leaves painted on them, in some kind of mural. I think I still had on the oxygen tubes (the ones that stick up your nose) at this point. Then I was taken to my room in the hospital, and Dan and my mom were there. I don't exactly remember if Brian & Annie were there or if they were there later in the evening. It's all a little fuzzy by now. The doctor came to see me, and she said something like - "maybe you're related to a cat, because you're on your second life." This seems impossible now, but I never had really realized I was dying. One of those times I was going to faint and not wake up. I blame my ignorance on the pain - I was too caught up in thinking about how much it hurt to think about what all that pain meant. The doctor told me that they had found my ectopic pregnancy, that it had ruptured my left Fallopian tube, and that they had removed the tube during surgery. Before they could even find the problem, they had removed 2 liters of blood that had just bled out into my abdomen. The doctor was worried about the blood loss, since I had been bleeding internally, plus I lost more blood in surgery, plus there was still some internal bleeding as the surgery healed. I had the pleasure of wearing a shunt for a couple of days - this was a plastic tube that stuck into my stomach and attached to a little plastic bulb, about the size of a typical baster (the things you use to squeeze the drippings for the gravy).
Monday, February 11, I worked at home all day - alone. I didn't do very much that was physically exerting myself, which was probably a very good thing.
Tuesday, February 12, I woke up at 5:30 and was out the door by 6:10. That way I miss the worst of the morning traffic (6:30-9:00 AM are typically stop-and-go), and I arrive at work by 7:00 so I can leave by 3:30-4:00 and get home sooner. After a couple of hours of work that morning, I took a break and visited a friend in a neighboring cubicle/office. (A cubicle/office is a slightly larger, single occupant cubicle with a shower door for semi-privacy.) After visiting for a bit, I stood up to leave, and my stomach cramped again - badly. I made a funny face and some excuse about being sore, and I walked out of the cubicle/office. I made it about 10 yards, when I felt faint, so I leaned on the windowsill for a minute. When this didn't help, I staggered to the really really uncomfortable chairs nearby and sat on my knees with my head down. Needless to say, the first passerby thought this was odd, so he didn't leave me there - he waited until the cramps passed enough for me to walk down the hall to my boss' office. I told my boss I was hurting and that I was going to try to find a way home. Then I stopped at my desk, but walking and sitting were so uncomfortable that I didn't feel good sitting there, so I went to see if it was a bathroom-related thing. It wasn't, but I didn't make it back out of the bathroom. I called Dan to tell him I was hurting, but he didn't have a way to come pick me up (I take the car to work because my commute is a lot longer). I started to hurt so badly, and I called my mom, but she was just leaving Idaho for her flight home too. I crouched down on the bathroom floor, looking like I was praying or something. Some other people came into the restroom and asked if I was okay, and I said "no I'm not okay" and one of them went for help while the other two helped arrange some magazines into a pillow and someone found me a blanket. Boeing Medical (on-site) came, and I started to feel really faint. They kept asking me questions - my name and address, where it hurt, my husband's name and phone number, and was I allergic to anything, etc. For a while I was so grayed-out that I could hear them but only grunt one word or no answers, then I was back more awake and they had me hooked up to a finger-clip monitor and they kept taking my blood pressure, which was falling to about 60, then rising back to about 100. One of the Boeing Medical people was a really nice lady who laid my arm on her lap to work on me and she had long thick curly light brown hair and khaki pants - strange the things I remember later. The worst part seemed to be when they tried to figure out where the pain was coming from. They pushed (probably gently but it HURT) on different areas of my abdomen, and they all hurt, none really better or worse than any other. The firemen came next, asking the same kinds of questions, and somewhere in here they put a heart-rate monitor on me (it looked so good one of them asked if he could keep that printout for his next physical). And they started an IV line since my blood pressure was so low. And then it was their turn to push on my abdomen and try to figure out what hurt. Everything. I almost fainted again, and at some point I stopped answering their questions, and then I woke up again. Somewhere in here people kept stopping by - my boss John, and a friend named Tony saw me as he was exiting the mens room door across the way, and Cathy came and she fussed in a very nice way. And then the guys from the ambulance came. The same question routine and stuff all over again (and pushing on me to see where it hurt, which was still everything from below the belly-button to just below my chest), and there was a discussion of where they were going to take me. I'm sure someone asked if I was pregnant a couple times too - I said "technically I could be I guess" but I also told them I had just had a wierd period and been on Clomid for the first time that month. Someone decided I should go to Swedish Hospital - I'm not sure who it was. There were lots of theories going around - something about pressure on the Vega Nerve making me faint, or the sympathetic nervous system doing something. They mostly seemed worried about the low blood pressure. I mostly worried about the pain I think. So they helped me to sit and then to kind of stand up enough to sit down on the ambulance tray ... I mean the stretcher. I had to keep my feet in and my boss John had had Cathy pick up all of my stuff at my desk and loaded it in my backpack and they rolled me out of the building and the air was cold but not for too long cuz we got into the ambulance. The stretcher goes in and out of the ambulance so easily - just like on TV or in the movies how the wheels just step up and down. Or the EMT's are really strong. The Boeing Medical woman was in the ambulance with me for a bit but she got another call before a block or so, so she got back out. So me and one EMT rode in the ambulance. The ride was very bumpy, and every bump made my whole stomach hurt more. The guy riding in the ambulance with me asked me some more questions, and then when they were 5 minutes out of the hospital he radioed in to say we were coming with a 28-year old female, with abdominal pain, and when the radio operator asked if I could walk into the hospital he said no I couldn't. I also shook my head at that, which he thought for a minute meant I could walk - I mixed him up but he got it right and I stayed in the stretcher. My arms kept falling over the sides of the stretcher since it is narrow and the bars on the sides were barely enough for me to grip with my thumbs to try to hold on to so my arms didn't drop to the floor. In the ambulance one arm was against the wall, so that was okay, and the other arm I put on the EMT's lap which he was okay with - it helped that I didn't have to hold it up for the rest of the ride. Plus I almost fainted again on the ambulance ride. I think it was actually the 4th and 5th time that I almost fainted - I was trying to keep count - and I think I greyed out twice on the ride to the hospital. Then we pulled into the ambulance garage and they opened up the back of the ambulance and took out the stretcher. It was two men at that point, moving my stretcher around. The garage looked just like a garage - with concrete walls and ceiling, and a door into the ER. In the ER they were directed to room #4, so they took me in there. A lot of things happened in room #4, so I probably won't get them all in order. They moved me to a different bed - I think by helping me roll onto this board that then they could more easily push, and then I had to roll off of it - a very uncomfortable and painful process. At first it was the same questions - my name and age and address and phone number and what hurt. And pushing on me to see where it hurt - this was the fourth time around and it still all hurt. I think they tried a covering oxygen mask, but it didn't feel good cuz I felt like I wasn't getting any air and I struggled with it. And they took my blood pressure - but the blood pressure guy said they would rather take it while I was sitting up. Later I found out that my blood pressure had been dropping to close to 40 when I was fainting, but I didn't know that at the time - I usually only heard them talking about it when I woke back up and it was coming back up to something near 100. I think they took blood samples in there too. I directed someone to get my purse out of my backpack and my wallet out of my purse so I could give them my ID and insurance cards. I told them that my mom was Wendy in my cell phone and my husband was Dan and Julie in my cell phone. Then there was just me and the blood pressure guy and he started to sit me up and I warned him that I would faint and that I was feeling faint but he sat me up anyway. I had enough time to tell him "I feel faint" and then I woke up with several more people around me, including the ER doctor. He was asking a question and I answered him and he was like "Well, see who's back with us." So he asked me more questions, and one was if I might be pregnant. I said "technically" and explained that I'd had an odd, extra-long period, been on clomid, etc. He got someone in there with a catheter. I asked if it would hurt and he said he'd done it before and it hurt a lot worse for men than for women. So they did it and got a urine sample for a pregnancy test. He also had someone give me an ER ultrasound which showed lots of blood in my abdomen. The urine sample came back positive for pregnancy. The ER doctor called in Dr. Harvey, the OB/GYN on call that day and she hurried to get me ready for surgery. She explained to me that they thought I had an ectopic preganancy, and that they would remove the prenancy and whatever else they needed to in surgery - either the fallopian tubes, or ovaries, or whatever else necessary. I think about now I heard Dr. Harvey calling for a surgery room - saying it was an emergency and they needed it in 10 minutes. She also reassured me that I would be okay and they would take care of me. Then I was taken to the surgery floor (I think they ran with me - the corners seemed pretty hard like they were turning pretty hard or having to slow down a lot). We went on the elevator, and the person taking me warned me about bumps and such. Then we got to the surgery floor. I think Dr. Harvey had to check in and then they took me to the OR. Someone asked to make sure I knew what they were going to do, and I had to sign something. Actually I had to sign several things in the hospital, and I'm pretty sure the ambulance guy didn't get his formed signed cuz it was one of the times I was passing out. Up in the OR, they started a second IV, and the next thing I really remember was waking up.
Still Tuesday, February 12, I woke up in the recovery room. There were a few ceiling tiles that had pretty leaves painted on them, in some kind of mural. I think I still had on the oxygen tubes (the ones that stick up your nose) at this point. Then I was taken to my room in the hospital, and Dan and my mom were there. I don't exactly remember if Brian & Annie were there or if they were there later in the evening. It's all a little fuzzy by now. The doctor came to see me, and she said something like - "maybe you're related to a cat, because you're on your second life." This seems impossible now, but I never had really realized I was dying. One of those times I was going to faint and not wake up. I blame my ignorance on the pain - I was too caught up in thinking about how much it hurt to think about what all that pain meant. The doctor told me that they had found my ectopic pregnancy, that it had ruptured my left Fallopian tube, and that they had removed the tube during surgery. Before they could even find the problem, they had removed 2 liters of blood that had just bled out into my abdomen. The doctor was worried about the blood loss, since I had been bleeding internally, plus I lost more blood in surgery, plus there was still some internal bleeding as the surgery healed. I had the pleasure of wearing a shunt for a couple of days - this was a plastic tube that stuck into my stomach and attached to a little plastic bulb, about the size of a typical baster (the things you use to squeeze the drippings for the gravy).
08 February 2008
Grandpa's Funeral
When trying to think of memories of my Grandpa, I thought of things that I could always tell were important to him - things my Grandpa loved.
My parents lived in the Seattle area, so it was always a special treat to get a visit from my grandpa. He regularly visited us, and I was so excited for his visits that I was even happy to give up my room as the guest room for him. As I got a little older, I realized that Grandpa was coming to Seattle to go to the furniture market. He loved his work, and he loved working hard. This was obvious to me even as a little child - Grandpa worked hard and was proud of his work. As I grew up some more, I realized how unusual it was for a man to enjoy his work so much that he didn't retire until the age of 82. This example means a lot to me because I want to find something that I enjoy working at, that I can take pride in doing, and that I will love as much as my Grandpa loved his work so that I don't ever want to give it up.
When our family expanded beyond the capacity of our first little house in Washington, my Mom and Dad spent a lot of time searching for a new home. We kids were aware of how hard this search was because it went on for months. Finally we moved into a great house, but definitely a fixer-upper. There was a lot of work to be done, but this new house was spacious enough for me to finally have my own room! I remember that Grandpa showed up to help out, and he was amazing! He loved working with his hands, and making something out of nothing. My Mom says this probably comes from growing up on a farm and working and living in the depression years to make do with what they had. I think it was also a talent. While visiting our new house, Grandpa built storage under the back deck, and then he built an entire cold food storage room in the garage and then huge amounts of shelving in the garage along the walls. Those shelves are sturdy today, and they might even survive the rest of the house eventually.
Grandpa loved sports. In all of the phone calls we had with Grandma and Grandpa as kids, Grandpa asked how our teams were doing, what position we were playing, and how our last game went. He knew all about all of his grandchildren's athletic endeavors, and even though my family wasn't exactly star athlete material, he was still proud of us! I also remember that Grandpa especially loved watching the BYU Cougars. Sometimes, while visiting us, he would just disappear. We could always find him downstairs, searching for "that BYU game". I remember watching TV with Grandpa, and especially learning from a young age to cheer for the Cougars.
Grandpa loved his friends and neighbors. He always seemed to have the attitude of "I have been blessed, so I want to share my blessings with others." When I was driving home from college one summer, I stopped for a day to visit Grandpa. He was happy to see me, and he made me promise to wait for him to get home before I left the next morning. I was curious, so I agreed. When I woke up the next morning, I packed everything into the car, and hung out around the house for a while. Grandpa pulled in with his truck, and he hauled out a huge black plastic bag full of corn. It turns out that Grandpa had a favorite little stand he would go to where he would buy a bunch of corn and then share it out with all his friends, especially those who couldn't go out and go shopping on their own.
Grandpa loved his family. He always kept track of what each one of us was doing, and he was so proud of us. In college, I had the chance to work in a research lab on campus, where we worked on a project for NASA. Grandpa was so proud that he told everybody that his granddaughter was going to the moon! Every phone call for three years, Grandpa asked "have they sent you to the moon yet?" I remember when Grandma was no longer able to send out the birthday cards like she always had. Every year, around my birthday, I still got an envelope from Grandma and Grandpa. In that envelope, on a little piece of paper from a notepad (one year it was on an ACE Pulley Systems notepad) was my birthday note. It usually said something like "Julie, I hope you have a happy birthday. We love you. Grandma and Grandpa." One year he added "Ain't this card purtty?"
Of all of his family, and all the people in his life, Grandpa loved my grandma. With a pat on her bum, or a kiss on her cheek, he always told her he loved her. I remember Grandpa visited Grandma every day that he could when she was put into a care facility. He even figured out how to get the kitchen to give him a little ice cream that he could bring to her after dinner every day.
I remember that Grandpa loved prayer. It wasn't ever a casual prayer - Grandpa bowed his head with humility and gratitude and prayed sincerely with deep thought at meals and in family prayers, and I bet in his personal prayers too. Before my Dad's funeral, Grandpa gave a very tender family prayer for us. Afterwards we found out how much Grandpa had been thinking and pondering what he wanted to say, because we found a note card where he had written his thoughts for that prayer. In all of his prayers, I remember Grandpa being grateful for everything he had. Above their kitchen table, my Grandma and Grandpa had hung a picture of a humble man, bowing his head in gratitude over his simple loaf of bread. This picture reminds me of my grandpa in prayer because he showed gratitude to the Lord when his circumstances were humble or great. In remembrance of Grandpa's prayers, the grandchildren sang "Because I Have Been Given Much" at his funeral.
My parents lived in the Seattle area, so it was always a special treat to get a visit from my grandpa. He regularly visited us, and I was so excited for his visits that I was even happy to give up my room as the guest room for him. As I got a little older, I realized that Grandpa was coming to Seattle to go to the furniture market. He loved his work, and he loved working hard. This was obvious to me even as a little child - Grandpa worked hard and was proud of his work. As I grew up some more, I realized how unusual it was for a man to enjoy his work so much that he didn't retire until the age of 82. This example means a lot to me because I want to find something that I enjoy working at, that I can take pride in doing, and that I will love as much as my Grandpa loved his work so that I don't ever want to give it up.
When our family expanded beyond the capacity of our first little house in Washington, my Mom and Dad spent a lot of time searching for a new home. We kids were aware of how hard this search was because it went on for months. Finally we moved into a great house, but definitely a fixer-upper. There was a lot of work to be done, but this new house was spacious enough for me to finally have my own room! I remember that Grandpa showed up to help out, and he was amazing! He loved working with his hands, and making something out of nothing. My Mom says this probably comes from growing up on a farm and working and living in the depression years to make do with what they had. I think it was also a talent. While visiting our new house, Grandpa built storage under the back deck, and then he built an entire cold food storage room in the garage and then huge amounts of shelving in the garage along the walls. Those shelves are sturdy today, and they might even survive the rest of the house eventually.
Grandpa loved sports. In all of the phone calls we had with Grandma and Grandpa as kids, Grandpa asked how our teams were doing, what position we were playing, and how our last game went. He knew all about all of his grandchildren's athletic endeavors, and even though my family wasn't exactly star athlete material, he was still proud of us! I also remember that Grandpa especially loved watching the BYU Cougars. Sometimes, while visiting us, he would just disappear. We could always find him downstairs, searching for "that BYU game". I remember watching TV with Grandpa, and especially learning from a young age to cheer for the Cougars.
Grandpa loved his friends and neighbors. He always seemed to have the attitude of "I have been blessed, so I want to share my blessings with others." When I was driving home from college one summer, I stopped for a day to visit Grandpa. He was happy to see me, and he made me promise to wait for him to get home before I left the next morning. I was curious, so I agreed. When I woke up the next morning, I packed everything into the car, and hung out around the house for a while. Grandpa pulled in with his truck, and he hauled out a huge black plastic bag full of corn. It turns out that Grandpa had a favorite little stand he would go to where he would buy a bunch of corn and then share it out with all his friends, especially those who couldn't go out and go shopping on their own.
Grandpa loved his family. He always kept track of what each one of us was doing, and he was so proud of us. In college, I had the chance to work in a research lab on campus, where we worked on a project for NASA. Grandpa was so proud that he told everybody that his granddaughter was going to the moon! Every phone call for three years, Grandpa asked "have they sent you to the moon yet?" I remember when Grandma was no longer able to send out the birthday cards like she always had. Every year, around my birthday, I still got an envelope from Grandma and Grandpa. In that envelope, on a little piece of paper from a notepad (one year it was on an ACE Pulley Systems notepad) was my birthday note. It usually said something like "Julie, I hope you have a happy birthday. We love you. Grandma and Grandpa." One year he added "Ain't this card purtty?"
Of all of his family, and all the people in his life, Grandpa loved my grandma. With a pat on her bum, or a kiss on her cheek, he always told her he loved her. I remember Grandpa visited Grandma every day that he could when she was put into a care facility. He even figured out how to get the kitchen to give him a little ice cream that he could bring to her after dinner every day.
I remember that Grandpa loved prayer. It wasn't ever a casual prayer - Grandpa bowed his head with humility and gratitude and prayed sincerely with deep thought at meals and in family prayers, and I bet in his personal prayers too. Before my Dad's funeral, Grandpa gave a very tender family prayer for us. Afterwards we found out how much Grandpa had been thinking and pondering what he wanted to say, because we found a note card where he had written his thoughts for that prayer. In all of his prayers, I remember Grandpa being grateful for everything he had. Above their kitchen table, my Grandma and Grandpa had hung a picture of a humble man, bowing his head in gratitude over his simple loaf of bread. This picture reminds me of my grandpa in prayer because he showed gratitude to the Lord when his circumstances were humble or great. In remembrance of Grandpa's prayers, the grandchildren sang "Because I Have Been Given Much" at his funeral.
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