Monday, November 19, 2018

It would be EZ to find her...

I swear on all that is holy...if my dear wife ever disappears and just cannot be found, I'll simply go and sit on the toilet. In ten seconds or less, she will be there!

Friday, November 16, 2018

EZ to take for granted.

Each day, we likely take some very important things for granted. Like breathing, for instance. This morning during my self-guided yoga session I was spending a few moments just concentrating on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Repeat. Even with concentration, I realized that I was really taking each breath, and the next, for granted. But each breath is precious, vital, and tenuous.

Yesterday morning, at about two AM Mountain Time, my sister, Sarah Leane, stopped breathing. She had breathed her very last. She will be dearly missed. Sarah, at 86, was the eldest sibling and the last, save me, surviving. I had earlier lost my two brothers -- one at age 70 and one at 82. My parents, of course, have been gone for decades so as far as my immediate blood family goes I am now truly alone. I told a niece that I feel like an orphan. 

In. Out. In. Out. Repeat.

Our oldest son, Vincent, a foster child yet one we love dearly, cannot take breathing for granted. He is suffering some sort of lung disorder whereby his lungs are only working at about 60% capacity. For months he's been unable to work, short of breath and quickly in cardiac distress with any normal exertion, and his family is having troubles due to the lack of income. Doctors have been ineffective. Through a broad battery of tests, including biopsies, they have not been able to definitively diagnose the disease. This week, he was admitted for an invasive process to open his chest and examine the lungs and get some additional tissue for tests. We are hoping for results by today, Friday, November 16, 2018. We were told it was a simple procedure and that he'd be out of hospital in a day or so. Not so. Three days in and he's coded twice and has now been moved to intensive care where they can use a positive pressure respirator to assist his breathing. Before this move (but after the procedure) he was unable to maintain sufficient oxygenation without supplemental O2. Then it got to where he wasn't getting enough oxygen even with supplemental under a C-PAP type oxygen mask. We are so praying for him and also hoping for a diagnosis that will allow the medics to help his body fix whatever is ailing him. Meanwhile, the VA has been essentially telling him that there is nothing wrong with him as if he were a malingerer. Nothing could be further from the truth. 

In. Out. In. Out. Repeat. 

Keep doing it, Vincent, we pray.

Our prayers received a, "Sorry, no." answer on December 4, 2018, when Vincent passed away. He left a wife, three young children, four adult children, and a granddaughter behind. Vincent passed while we were in Israel touring the Holy Land. Our last conversation with him was via Skype from our hotel in Jerusalem.