I’m at my sister’s new house north of Austin. Mom’s hospital in Temple is about an hour from here. Several family members are there or on their way there. I spent all day yesterday with Mom. She slept most of the time, still fighting off some pain, but she is improving.
The second procedure, in which they inserted a tube through her abdomen into the problematic liver duct, was a success. They left the tube in place, externally draining the toxins from her liver. They will still probably put in a stint to maintain that duct, but there seems to be some debate among the doctors and what the root cause is/was, and thus, the best treatment.
Yesterday morning, a doctor did come in, making rounds with a room full of students, and discussed “what’s next.” But we were all a bit frustrated with his prognosis: Wait. They wanted to let her toxin levels drop much more and get her “feeling better” before they moved ahead. Mom hates lying there waiting to feel better. And I don’t like it much either.
She’s really bored, but still too “loopy” to do much. She doesn’t want to read, or watch TV, or much of anything because her head is too swimmy to enjoy it. So, we talked some, but mostly she slept.
I am waiting on more definitive news for today, but so far, “She’s feeling better,” is good enough.
Things are tough down on the ranch. I’m cross-posting an entry from my Mom’s blog written by my sister. Mom probably won’t be real pleased about the world knowing she’s sick, but I know some mighty prayer warriors read this blog.
To give you a bit of back-story, my mom had much of her liver removed a few years ago due to cancer. You may know that earlier this year she was in a serious car wreck that cost her her spleen. So, now, with no spleen and half a liver, her body has a hard time filtering her blood. The prevailing opinion is that this has lead to some complications in her liver. The ducts that “drain” the toxins from her liver into her intestine have become swollen and are now blocked.
Last I wrote, Dad was trying to get [Mom] to Scott & White for a procedure that would open ducts from her liver. … She was holding tough, but she was not good. Lifting her head made her dizzy, her speech was slurred because her tongue was a little swollen, and so forth. She also was beginning to get jaundice since Monday, maybe Sunday. She stayed reclined most of the time and felt fatigued quickly.
Dad managed to get the procedure scheduled for this Thursday morning, so they left La Grange about 4 a.m. I talked to Dad at 11:30 a.m., and he sounded weary and deflated. He said, “The procedure didn’t work.” The line the doctor ran down from Mom’s throat to her liver would not go through the compressed duct at all. It is either too inflamed, or something is pressing it that hard. They don’t know why.
Another procedure is schedule for tomorrow, something about going in through a needle into her side. Dad said, at the time I talked to him, that Mom was not coherent yet, so she hadn’t heard the news. It is possible that the doctors will order a PET scan to show them what the CAT scan could not.
I had planned a visit for this weekend, so I’ve got Friday off work already. Looks like I might be headed to the hospital rather than the ranch. But, as we’ve all learned, plans aren’t worth much.
It’s that time of year again. My birthday is less than a month away. Christmas will be here before you know it! Time to check out my updated T-Shirt Wish List!
Why yes, I am that self-centered. You want me to buy you something? Post a wish list on your own blog! (And link to it in the comments, of course.)
Don’t we look tough?! I finally got time to dump the pictures off our camera. This is Tammy and I all decked out for a ride on Thumper.
You can read all about Thumper in this previous post. Since then, I have installed the Clarke 4.7 gallon plastic fuel tank, to replace the dinky stock 2.8 gallon metal tank. I’ve created a new blog page to post my work on Thumper (including the gas tank install) if anyone is interested.
I continue to struggle with some back pain. It’s not debilitating, but it sure is irritating. I’ve pulled back muscles before, but after a day or two of rest, I was able to get back to normal life. But I guess I was younger then. Not so now.
So, in honor of realizing my mortality, I offer this week’s white board quip.
I intend to live forever – so far, so good. -Steven Wright
A month ago, I promised a big announcement. I’ve been hold off until I could get some good pictures, but it seems I can wait no more. After years of dreaming and calculating and praying, I finally did it. I got me a motorcycle.
The Back Story
In all these years, I’ve told myself no. After praying about it and figuring out the money, it just wasn’t right. I even used this as part of a lesson I taught to the youth group about temptation and sin. Frankly, God told me, “No.”
But now, in 2010, we’ve met our goals of A) paying off unsecured debt, B) buying a house, and C) getting the major high-cost jobs on the house done (paying with cash and not credit). And after all that, we still had enough in savings to write a check for Thumper. (You should know by now that I name all my vehicles. Duh!)
I wavered a few times between getting a “cruiser” or a “dual sport.” A cruiser is what you picture in you mind when I say “Harley.” A dual sport is essentially a street legal dirt bike. It’s not nearly as comfortable as a crusier (especially for a passenger), but it can do double duty of getting me to work AND playing in the mud. This is exactly why I own a mountain bike and an SUV. I like to have the option to get dirty.
The Blame
Besides the financial aspect, the real tipping point was a visit to my old buddy Galyn. (If you do a search for his name on this blog, you’ll see I blame him for most of my misadventures.) When I was a kid, my family and Galyn’s family used to go on trips together to ride dirt bikes in the mountains. We have some great shared memories from trips to Tres Ritos, NM, riding some gnarly mountain trails. That was a very very long time ago, but Galyn’s family still goes at least once a year. My family transitioned to horses and if you know me, you know how I feel about that.
Galyn moved out into the sticks a while back, to a housing development that is barely half way built out. He, his wife, and three of their five boys (Yes, he would have his own basketball team if they weren’t all short like him.) go out and ride their motorcycles over the undeveloped area. I finally got to go for a visit, and Galyn put me on his bike to ride around with the boys. The effect was less of a motorcycle fever, and more of a psychotic obsession. I was crushed by a wave of fantastic memories. The matter was settled: Dual sport or nothing.
The very next day, during Sunday school, one of my 8th grade boys (Alex) announced he had bought a dirt bike. I couldn’t contain myself. I launched into a story about the bike trips of my youth, getting my own XR200 for my 12th birthday, and my desire to get back into the sport. After this Alex started sending me links to bikes for sale. One of the first ones he sent was exactly what I was looking for and at a great price. I wrung my hands a bit at the expense, but with lot’s of positive pressure from Tammy and friends, I bit.
The Bike!
Thumper is a Honda XR650L. “XR” means 4-stroke dirt bike. “650” means ~650 cc engine (which is *huge* for the dirt). And “L” means street legal. The engine is three times the size of anything my family ever owned before. It’s heavy and shockingly powerful. In riding to work, I never get above 3rd gear (out of 5). According to the manual, I should shift into 5th gear around 80mph. 80!! God help me if I ever get going that fast on a dirt bike! Yes, it has turn signals, but it’s not a street bike. It feels really ungainly at high speeds.
The down side to buying a dirt bike in DFW in July is that it’s really really hot outside. We just finished a 20+ day stretch of 100+ degree days. When it’s that hot out, riding a bike is just not fun. I did a few rides to work when the weather was less than deadly, but I’ve been really aching for chance to get out on the dirt. There are a few places around the fringes of DFW where you can pay to ride on private land. This week, the heat finally broke and yesterday, in the low 90’s, I jumped on the chance to get dirty.
You knew this was coming, right?
I rode up to Trophy Club Park, near where I work. One perk of a dual sport is no need to haul your bike. Ride to the trail, get dirty, ride home. It was really shaky at first. Let’s face it, it’s been 20 years since I’ve ridden technical trails. (Holy cow! How is that possible?!) But after tooling around on some flat, twisty trails, I started “feelin’ it.” I found a little oval track with jumps in the middle and got a tiny bit of hang time. It felt good. No, it felt amazing.
Then, I started back out onto the longer trails and found a small motorcross track. Ooooh. That looks like fun! I stopped to have a look around before daring to try it. A very large, Cajun fellow rode up on a bike that was much too small for him and he started up a conversation. He said he was trying out a bike he bought for his son, that he was not “cocky” enough to do any of the big jumps, but was enjoying the track. He said he would be more comfortable riding with someone else, just in case. Frankly, so would I. So I mounted up and we did a few laps.
I did a couple of small jumps, but stayed well away from the big monsters. There was a section of whoop-dee-doos. (Click here if you don’t know what whoops are. That’s not me!) I used to really love the whoops when I was a kid, so naturally, I charged on in. But these whoops where a lot bigger than I expected and that big, heavy bike was just more than I could handle. I tried really hard to save it, but to no avail. I dumped Thumper just after the last whoop and hit the ground pretty hard.
After a quick inventory, I decided I was not injured (Hurt, yes. Injured, no.) and the bike was fine. I busted a mirror, but that’s not a big deal. I gave myself a few minutes for the adrenaline to wear off and my head to quit spinning. Then I decided I should head on home. By the time I got to the house, I was aching pretty bad. I had a few scrapes and some deep bruises, the worst on my right knee, but nothing serious. Tammy noticed a dark stain on my jeans. I assumed it was grease, but no. I had bled through my jeans from a small puncture in my right shin. Once cleaned, it turned out to be really small, but deep. This morning, I relented and went to CareNow to check it out.
The doctor said it was deep enough that it will take a while to heal, but small enough that a single stitch would close it. Aw, man. Really?! That just seems pointless and given my aversion (read: “full-on phobia”) of needles, I started negotiating. If it was three or more stitches, I would understand. But one?! Can’t you just tape it up? Yes. A dab of skin glue, a couple of high-tech band-aids and done. Much better! Yes, I’m a wuss. Don’t bother. Tammy has made that abundantly clear.
So, anyway. That’s the big news and the long story and the gritty details. Sorry for stealing a half hour of your life. Just rest assured, I’m fine. No bones sticking out. Lesson learned.
Last Sunday (8/15/2010) was the last Sunday school class of the year. The 8th grade boys that I’ve taught all year are moving up to high school next Sunday. I had an unusually small class this year, but that turned out to be a blessing, because we were able to get pretty close and the boys really impressed me with their growth (both in spirit and in maturity). I’m very proud of these boys. One of them (Ben) posted the following note on Facebook.
Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not posting this to toot my own horn. In fact, the complete opposite is true. This was one of the most humbling experiences I’ve ever had. But I felt that I should share it anyway. This is not to bask in the spot light, but rather so that all my friends and family, who often get the short end of the stick because I give more time and energy to the church (more specifically, the youth at Glenview, a.k.a. my chi’ren) can get a glimpse of why I do what I do.
Today is August 15, 2010, a Sunday. Specifically, the last Sunday that I will be an 8th grader. My teacher is Trint Ladd, and this note is about him and what he has taught me, and what I hope to carry on for the rest of my life.
I first met Trint Ladd almost exactly one year ago at a promotion party. First thing he asked us was our names. We talked for a while, some about ourselves, some about him, about his shirt, about our schools, things like that. He intended on getting to know us. He told us his expectations of us. Bring our Bibles, read our Bibles, and learn something from what we’ve read. No other Sunday school teacher had ever set expectations before. So I tried to meet these expectations.
Another thing he did was he challenged me, to read more, to spend quiet times with God, to read not because he asked, but because I wanted to. He also had a points system that would be a motivation for us to read and remember what we did the week before. If we got 24 points at the end of the month, he would get donuts the first Sunday, if not, no donuts. After a few months, I didn’t eat the donuts, I didn’t want them. It wasn’t what I wanted anymore, I wanted to earn points because I wanted to learn, not because I get donuts at the beginning of the month, but because I wanted to learn. I remembered most of what he said, and I hope I come away with a lot. So many things changed because of Trint Ladd, I became spiritually mature, I read almost everyday, and I wanted to. Thank you very much Trint for being my 8th grade teacher.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, it has gotten really hot in this room because my eyes are sweating like crazy.
One year ago today, August 3rd, 2009, we sat down at a big fancy table with a huge stack of papers and signed our names (over 100 times each). We were handed a set of keys. We became home owners. (Which is really a misnomer because we are thousands and thousands of dollars away from really owning our house.)
It has been a crazy crazy year, but also very productive. We’ve finished many of our home projects, although there are many more (in fact, I’m sure I will never really run out of them). We still feel totally over-blessed. Thank you, God, for letting us be stewards of this house and thank you for the many opportunities we’ve had already to share it with others!
I’ve had fun this morning trolling back through the blog to find the house-relevant posts. You might enjoy it too, so here are some post links:
We’ve been spending money like it’s on fire, I tell you what!
I finally got all the ducks in a row for our two major house projects and pulled the trigger on both.
We had new Hardie Board siding put up on our chimney, where the old siding was falling apart. ($3000 – *Cha-ching*) Hardie Board is made from concrete and saw dust. It should stay together longer than the house itself. Plus, we got the optional “infused color,” which means no painting. Ever. Yea!
Maybe after I win the lottery, I’ll get the rest of the house resided. (Estimates are in the $15-20k range. Yikes.)
Our second project was installing a french drain to empty the ponds that develop in our yard whenever it rains. I did a lot of research on this thinking I would do it myself. But one of our “chi’ren” (church kids), who’s grown up now, has a landscaping business and quoted me a pretty good price to get it all done. ($1500 – *Cha-ching*) In hindsight, I’m *so* glad I didn’t try to do it myself. It was simple, but it was a *lot* of hot, sweaty, physical labor. I would have killed myself.
The new drain runs along the side yard where, eventually, I plan to gravel it in and put up a storage shed. The sprinkles along that side of the house are connected to the wrong channel (shared with the front flower beds). That meant that if we wanted to water the flowers in front we’d have to also water the ponds in back. I knew the guys would probably find some sprinkler pipes and that would help me reroute the system. Sure enough, they hit the plumbing in several places (but only broke it bad in one place).
As they dug in other areas, I dug out around the pipes and planned my assault, trying to figure out exactly how it was installed. I patched in 20 feet of pipe to bypass all the side yard sprinklers, and, after 2 hours of drying time, turned on the system. Rather than the happy sound of hissing flowerbed sprinklers, I heard the roaring of water filling my ditches. I had patched in the wrong direction. Harumph!
After 30 minutes of bailing muddy water, digging in the mud (with shovel and hand) and I thought I had found the right pipe. I lined were to cut the existing pipe. It only took my cordless saw about 2 seconds to breach the line, which turned out to be the sprinkler supply line which is always under pressure. More roaring water filling my ditch as I ran for the main water supply valve at the curb. *sigh*
Another trip to the store for more fittings. Another half hour of bailing and digging. Finally I found the valve where the main connects to the channel and I could reroute it to only feed the flowerbeds. The final solution required only four feet of pipe and only one foot of digging. All the rest was spent on exploration and misunderstand of the installation. *grumble grumble*
After getting cleaned up (in a *very* cold shower) I realized it was hot *inside*. Hrmm. The bedroom was 80 degrees and the AC had been running the whole time. Sure enough, the down stairs AC unit was not working. yea… </sarcasm>
Thank God the upstairs unit was working (and working very hard). Tammy and I spent the night in our upstairs guest room for the first time. (I can now honestly attest to it’s comfort.)
And now, I’m sitting the coolest spot in the house, our office, typing this update, waiting for the AC guy to show up. Last night, when I called he said, “in the morning,” and as I check the clock it’s now just past noon on the hottest day of the year so far. (The forecast is for 101 with a 110 heat index.)
And I have no idea how much it’s going to cost to fix. (Cha-ching!)
Thumper is a Honda XR650L. “XR” means 4-stroke dirt bike. “650” means ~650 cc engine (which is *huge* for the dirt). And “L” means street legal. The engine is three times the size of anything my family ever owned before. It’s heavy and shockingly powerful. In riding to work, I never get above 3rd gear (out of 5). According to the manual, I should shift into 5th gear around 80mph. 80!! God help me if I ever get going that fast on a dirt bike! Yes, it has turn signals, but it’s not a street bike. It feels really ungainly at high speeds.
We’ve been spending money like it’s on fire, I tell you what!