Sweet Letter

I received this message from someone I used to teach in Sunday School in my last ward (over ten years ago). I think I taught the youth in Sunday School the entire time I was in that ward (about seven years).

Hello Trisha!

I've been meaning to write you for some time now, but for one reason or another I seem to have kept putting it off.

First of all, I would like to truly thank you for your wonderful example. We all go through trials in our lives. Some of us lose faith and ask, why me?. However, others face their challenges head on with courage, never losing faith in our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. You seem to me to be the latter. Two words come to my mind that describe how you seem to have faced the myriad of trials you have been called to bear: faithful and valiant.

Interestingly enough, those words also describe some of the key characteristics you instilled in me many years ago as my sunday school teacher. Although I have not been perfect, I have always remembered Trish Turner standing in front of a curious, querulous, know-it-all class and teaching us to look unto Christ in every thought, and to be faithful and valiant in all that we did. Teaching such a rowdy group of young boys may not have been your cup of tea, but I assure you that it meant the world to me. It is a lesson that I tried to teach as a missionary; it is also a lesson that my wife and I now hope to instill in our children. Thank you for that.

Also, it has been an almost daily inspiration to me as I have read some of your posts to see that you still continue to live what you taught us years ago. In my opinion, that is the definition of a true teacher. Again, thank you.

I want you to know that you are in our thoughts and prayers. Kourtney and I wish you the very best and hope that you and Bro. Howard are able to keep on keepin' on.

Warmest regards,

Matt

I'm so glad that I can help in spreading the message of the gospel somehow! It means the world to me that he remembers some of the things that I tried to live and instill. I can keep on keeping on if it helps or makes a difference to someone else.

I Told You So

It's Saturday, and I'm not feeling that bad anymore. My stomach has settled a great deal, and the pain for my line has dropped at least in half (to a level 3 now).

So why was last night so hard for me?

I'm not sure why I couldn't just let the promises for this process sustain me without having a mini-meltdown, but I feel much better this morning.

Time for another dose of Fludarabine and Cytoxan, so off to LDS Hospital Dale and I go.

We're a bit late (10 minutes), but they're still not prepared for me, especially when I demand that we change anti-nausea drugs. (What about the dexamethasone I was promised?) And we neglected to give extra fluids (saline) with the Cytoxan that was mentioned on Wednesday. Can we fix both of those things?

Sure, but it takes a while to track down the new orders.

Finally, the dexamethasone is on board, the two chemo drugs finish, and we clear the building around noon.

For the next three days, I'll just get the Fludarabine, which isn't as potent, so I should be good to go.

And no nausea or vomiting yet. And very little pain, especially compared to last night.

Hip, hip, hooray!

Maybe Too Much Optimism

So sometimes I forget how hard things are when you're fighting cancer.

I know that outcome, so I just want to focus on that and stay upbeat and positive. Everything will work out okay, so why dwell on anything else?

Well, sometimes the pains of this life intervene in my plans.

I'm sitting here, absolutely sick to my stomach. The thought of any food makes me immediately ill. And I'm throwing up violently. I feel like I did when I was seven, when all I could do after each treatment is throw up violently for about 18 hours. Yuck! Darn Fludarabine and Cytoxan.

They gave me an anti-nausea medication by IV, but I warned them that ondasetron (Zofran) doesn't do it by itself. They wanted to prove that it wasn't enough though. Drat!

And the three places where they had to cut me to place my central line are pretty painful, especially the middle one. It feels like I'm constantly being cut by a sharp knife and that knife isn't being pulled out. In fact, it's staying in and being twisted every once in while.

So I'm in pain (maybe at a level 6 for me). It's ratcheting up the pain scale as the night continues onward. But I'm nauseous and vomiting, so I don't dare take anything for the pain.

I'm not looking forward to sleeping tonight. In fact, I feel like crying and having a little pity party for myself. Darn it!

Why do things have to get so hard? They'll be better in the morning. I know that, so why isn't that enough to pull me out of my funk tonight? Why can't I continue focusing on the outcome of all this? I will be healed!

Miracles of Priesthood Blessings

I received a blessing tonight that absolutely seemed incredible and helped most of my concerns for this transplant go away.

I was promised:

* Peace and comfort.
* That my desires and hopes for this transplant will come true through this procedure.
* I will have the longevity I desire through this process.
* That the doctors and nurses and medical personnel will have the wisdom to know how to help me the best.
* There will be complications, but they will short in nature.
* I will feel the love of my Savior and Heavenly Father and family and friends.
* Through the prayers of those I know and who know me, I will be healed.

Hooray. There's truth behind some of the optimism I've been feeling. Hooray for the power of the priesthood and our Savior's and Father's involvement with our sometimes seemingly insignificant lives on this Earth. Our lives are not insignificant to them!

And thank you for your prayers and kind words and concerns. You are going to help heal me!