j . a . m . k . m . b: Conference and Post Op

Pres. Thomas S. Monson, Oct 2008

"This is our one and only chance at mortal life—here and now. The longer we live, the greater is our realization that it is brief. Opportunities come, and then they are gone. I believe that among the greatest lessons we are to learn in this short sojourn upon the earth are lessons that help us distinguish between what is important and what is not. I plead with you not to let those most important things pass you by as you plan for that illusive and non-existent future when you will have time to do all that you want to do. Instead, find joy in the journey—now.

... Professor Harold Hill, one of the principal characters in [The Music Man], voices a caution that I share with you. Says he, “You pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you’ve collected a lot of empty yesterdays.”

f you have children who are grown and gone, in all likelihood you have occasionally felt pangs of loss and the recognition that you didn’t appreciate that time of life as much as you should have. Of course, there is no going back, but only forward. Rather than dwelling on the past, we should make the most of today, of the here and now, doing all we can to provide pleasant memories for the future.

Stresses in our lives come regardless of our circumstances. We must deal with them the best we can. But we should not let them get in the way of what is most important—and what is most important almost always involves the people around us. Often we assume that they must know how much we love them. But we should never assume; we should let them know. Wrote William Shakespeare, “They do not love that do not show their love.”³ We will never regret the kind words spoken or the affection shown. Rather, our regrets will come if such things are omitted from our relationships with those who mean the most to us.

Send that note to the friend you’ve been neglecting; give your child a hug; give your parents a hug; say “I love you” more; always express your thanks. Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved. Friends move away, children grow up, loved ones pass on. It’s so easy to take others for granted, until that day when they’re gone from our lives and we are left with feelings of “what if” and “if only.” Said author Harriet Beecher Stowe, “The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”

In the 1960s, during the Vietnam War, Church member Jay Hess, an airman, was shot down over North Vietnam. For two years his family had no idea whether he was dead or alive. His captors in Hanoi eventually allowed him to write home but limited his message to less than 25 words. What would you and I say to our families if we were in the same situation—not having seen them for over two years and not knowing if we would ever see them again? Wanting to provide something his family could recognize as having come from him and also wanting to give them valuable counsel, Brother Hess wrote—and I quote: “These things are important: temple marriage, mission, college. Press on, set goals, write history, take pictures twice a year.”

Said one well-known author: “Both abundance and lack [of abundance] exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend . . . when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present—love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature, and personal pursuits that bring us [happiness]—the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth.”

Said the Lord in a revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith, “In nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things.”¹⁰ May we be found among those who give our thanks to our Heavenly Father. If ingratitude be numbered among the serious sins, then gratitude takes its place among the noblest of virtues.

Brothers and sisters, my sincere prayer is that we may adapt to the changes in our lives, that we may realize what is most important, that we may express our gratitude always and thus find joy in the journey."

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Conference and Post Op

Really enjoying Conference this morning. Maybe it's because I have nowhere to go and nothing to do on a Saturday since I'm laid up from the surgery, but it's much easier to enjoy the Saturday session than usual. I love the spirit that I feel when I watch and listen. Wish we could be there to see Dad sitting on the stand. I particularly loved Elder Ballard's words to Young Women. There's nothing I would love more than for my daughters to idolize, and follow in the footsteps of their mother!

For those of you who haven't had surgery before, it's a very weird experience. Leading up to the surgery day it's kind of a surreal feeling of the event being way off in the future, even as it is days away. As it becomes a looming reality though, my anxiety started to build. It didn't help that everyone I talked to seemed to have a knee-surgery-gone-bad story - please note: just because you know of such a story, it doesn't mean you should share it with the guy just about to have surgery! It wasn't so much the anxiety of the actual day, but more the changes it would involve in the months following the surgery. It really helped that I got a wonderful blessing from Bishop and the bishopric in preparation.

I didn't go in to work yesterday morning, even though I could have gone for a couple of hours if needed. It was nice to be able to take the time to get everything in order: I set up the DVD player in the bedroom with a pile of DVDs I might be interested in watching, I gathered a number of books to read (including a last minute trip to the library the evening before), I lined up my pain meds next to the bed, I fixed the sheets on the bed to allow for no overhang on my side so I could slide my straight leg in and out without catching (an important but potentially overlooked preparation!), and I gave big long hugs to all the kids as they went off to school... just in case.

The trip to the hospital was kind of quiet because it was now real. We filled out the forms, then the nurse took us back for a pre-op consultation and prep. She shaved my left leg (I do a much better job, by the way), and had me write "YES" on the correct knee to verify that I agreed with the correct knee upon which they should operate. I answered the same questions about allergies, previous surgeries, and anything else remotely related to my health from about four different people, and then it was game time.

I was really grateful to be able to walk into the OR. In previous surgeries, I've had to be wheeled in on a bed, and that is one of the most demoralizing things that can happen to a guy. You feel so helpless and weak, so I was grateful to walk in and climb up by myself. I chatted with the orderly, and then with the anesthesiologist as he put in my IV. He talked me through the process and I remember grinning broadly as I felt the drowsiness coming on, and determining in my mind to stay awake as long as I could...

...Next thing I know my eyes are creaking open in the recovery room. It's always weird to just wake up and realize you've completely lost a couple hours of your life, while other people did things to your body. It took me about 20-30 minutes to feel less groggy, and for the weakness and queasiness in my stomach to abate (thanks to a couple cans of apple juice - my first nourishment of the day). Angela came back and picked me up, and it was home to bed.

So here I am, the next day, and I have to say I'm feeling better than I dared hope. I haven't had overwhelming pain, which I attribute as much to the cold therapy machine pumping ice water over my knee non-stop, as to the Tylenol with Codeine. My stomach is still pretty unsettled, but I was able to eat yesterday and today, and that's helping me regain my strength. The night wasn't super great, but it wasn't terrible either. I spent some time awake from about 3:30 to 5am, but not because of bad pain, just because of general discomfort.

I'm so grateful for our wonderful friends who have supported me and the family. We received a great dinner, multiple get-well care packages, and lots of well wishes. I've watched Forever Strong, read a bunch of my book Piston (life of "Pistol" Peter Maravich - very good so far), watched some of the Jazz-Lakers game last night, read Harry Potter to the girls (feebly I might add), and slept. One riding buddy brought me over some DVDs I can't wait to watch: documentaries on the Ironman Triathlon and the Tour de France, Spirit of the Marathon, and one other that escapes my mind.

All in all, I'm doing great. The Dr. said everything went well, and the prognosis for recovery looks excellent. Thanks again for all the well wishes, and the countdown begins to exercise...

1 comment:

Nate said...: J- good to hear things went well. Was thinking about you yesterday and today. I'll call tomorrow (Sunday) for a more formal check in.

Hang in there, and remember...

"Cold Steel Heals"

-nater; April 3, 2010 at 8:56 PM

j . a . m . k . m . b

Pres. Thomas S. Monson, Oct 2008

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Conference and Post Op

1 comment:

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