Utah weather is wacky. One day it is cool with rain and the next day dry and a hot 95 degrees. Even though I’m outside as much as I can, I feel a peaceful storm coming where I will get a transplant and experience a challenging recovery. I could get the phone at any moment saying, "Paul, we have a heart for you."
I have confidence in my surgeon’s ability to pull it off. I don’t doubt that. But, I fear the recovery. Will I be claustrophobic? I have felt uncomfortable in the past for simple procedures. Will I go crazy or feel extremely restless? I've experienced some of those feelings before in the hospital and this is my greatest fear. I'm not afraid of the surgery and the physical pain as much as the fear of having no control over my mind and body. I’m sure these questions and emotions are natural. Despite these insecurities, I am at peace knowing that the entire team is prepared.
I am also preparing my mind and soul. My daughter, wife, and whole family is on my mind. And now with the sudden death of my dear sweet friend and
brother Brian I want to fight that much more. I want to live for these people who I love.
But, my brother Brian inspires me. He climbed the face of mountains and accomplished many great things. As my wife and I climb one of the grandest peaks of our lives I’m ready and comforted because I know he’ll be close by. Others won’t see, feel, or notice him. But, I know he’ll be there along with so many others pulling me up that steep mountain of recovery.
In the meantime, we’ve been spending more time together as a family doing a few fun things. I have some renewed energy, which I attribute to everyone’s prayers and good medicine. In fact, last night we ran for Ice Cream at Baskin' Robbins. My girl Eden always orders the clown, bites off all the decorations, and then offers to trade deserts with my wife. Eden will eat most of Lynnette’s ice cream and then want to swap back leaving her mother an empty cone. We laugh. Eden is a character.
My sweet girl has been asking about Brian. We went to the cemetery and she wanted to see what she terms his body as the “pretend” Brian. We told her that he’s not there and has gone to be with Jesus. Trying to explain death to a toddler is quite difficult. It was helpful that the day before Brian’s death Eden and I walked outside to find a dead robin. I said, “Look, it’s not moving.” She asked why? “Because he’s died. The life inside of him went to be with Jesus leaving his body behind.” I got a shovel and we dug a little hole in a section of our garden. I put the bird in the ground and we covered him with the earth. She said, “I want to see it again.” I said we couldn’t, at least not now, but possibly someday. I didn’t realize the profound impact of all of this dying talk until a couple evenings later. It was after Brian’s funeral, while Lynnette was working, Eden slept next to me. With some sadness and frustration on her face she said, “Dad, I don’t want you to go with Jesus.” I told her I would do my best but if I had to go be with Jesus, Brian and the bird would take good care me. She understood.
I am also preparing my mind and soul. My daughter, wife, and whole family is on my mind. And now with the sudden death of my dear sweet friend and brother Brian I want to fight that much more. I want to live for these people who I love.
But, my brother Brian inspires me. He climbed the face of mountains and accomplished many great things. As my wife and I climb one of the grandest peaks of our lives I’m ready and comforted because I know he’ll be close by. Others won’t see, feel, or notice him. But, I know he’ll be there along with so many others pulling me up that steep mountain of recovery.
My sweet girl has been asking about Brian. We went to the cemetery and she wanted to see what she terms his body as the “pretend” Brian. We told her that he’s not there and has gone to be with Jesus. Trying to explain death to a toddler is quite difficult. It was helpful that the day before Brian’s death Eden and I walked outside to find a dead robin. I said, “Look, it’s not moving.” She asked why? “Because he’s died. The life inside of him went to be with Jesus leaving his body behind.” I got a shovel and we dug a little hole in a section of our garden. I put the bird in the ground and we covered him with the earth. She said, “I want to see it again.” I said we couldn’t, at least not now, but possibly someday. I didn’t realize the profound impact of all of this dying talk until a couple evenings later. It was after Brian’s funeral, while Lynnette was working, Eden slept next to me. With some sadness and frustration on her face she said, “Dad, I don’t want you to go with Jesus.” I told her I would do my best but if I had to go be with Jesus, Brian and the bird would take good care me. She understood.