Okay, so it was last Wednesday when I got those phone calls from the Dr.’s office. There have been a couple of minor developments since then so here’s a quick update before I forget.
I had asked Elinore last week whether Dr. Feilmeier was planning to do both transplant and cataract surgeries at the same time. Elinore wasn’t sure and said she would check with the doctor. She called back the very next day and said that he is indeed planning to do both at the same time. That’s fine with me as long as there are no additional or increased risks involved. Getting both at the same time means, if everything goes well, I’ll be able to see much sooner, rather than having one surgery then having to wait a couple of months for the other. When I had my transplant back in 2004, I had excellent vision the very next day when the bandage came off, even though I had read that the vision would come in slowly as the new cornea healed. I’m not sure if cataract surgery requires a lot of recovery time or not, I’ll have to read up on that.
Then today I got a call from another lady at the doctor’s office, I think her name was Megan. Megan was calling to confirm, finally, that they did indeed get the ultrasound results from my visit to Dr. Halgren back in October. That’s good news because everything else was kind of on hold until that got resolved. Megan also told me that the next step will be to get some measurements taken of my eye. I’m not sure what this entails exactly, but the measurements are needed to determine the strength of the lens I will need. When I say lens, I’m talking about the actual lens of the eye, not the cornea or a contact or anything like that. The lens is inside the eye, and it’s where cataracts form. My lens will be removed and replaced with a new one. Unlike the cornea, the lens can be replaced with an artificial one. Megan said the measurements can be taken in Kearney and that someone should be calling me to schedule an appointment.
That’s all the news for now. Stay tuned.
Romans 2:7 to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life;
Romans 5:3-5 More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
Showing posts with label 2004. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2004. Show all posts
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Memories - Family Vacations
Ah, family vacations. We all love them, don’t we? Whenever we can afford to take them, that is. I remember the last one I went on. That was in 2003 I think, or maybe 2004. Joni, Adam, and I went down to Houston for a Labor Day weekend. We visited Johnson Space Center and Moody Gardens and stayed in a hotel and had a pretty good time.
That was a lot different than the family vacations we took when I was a kid. I’m talking way back in the 70’s, when Mom and Dad were still married. Dad was a farmer, as I have mentioned before, and we couldn’t go anywhere as long as he had to water the crops. So we waited for rain. It had to be a pretty good rain, too, so that he didn’t have to irrigate for a few days. When the rain finally came, we would put the topper on the pickup, hook up the boat, and head for Lake McConaughy, which is out east near Ogallala, Nebraska..
Mom and Dad would ride up front, and us four kids all rode in the back of the pickup with lots of blankets and pillows to flop around on. The tent, sleeping bags and coolers would all be packed in the boat for the trip. Those were such simple times. We didn’t worry about seat belts and air bags and crash test ratings, we just hopped in the back of the pickup, and off we went. If anyone tried that today, they’d probably be thrown in jail and their kids sent to foster homes. I don’t remember at all how long the trip to the lake was. I know it had to be at least a couple of hours, but we didn't mind. Getting there really was half the fun in those days.
Most of my memories of our camping trips are only fragments. There wasn't any one trip in particular that stands out in my mind. Our tent was blue and yellow and was big enough for all six of us. I remember the pitch blackness of those nights in the tent. I was afraid of the dark as a child, but with my family all around me, there was nothing to be afraid of. One memory fragment I have is of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling cold. I got up and carefully felt my way around for a minute looking for the pile of blankets. When I found a blanket and tried to take it, someone pulled back, so I think I gave up.
Those bright summer days of roaming the sandy shore of the lake seemed endless. The particular area where we always camped had kind of a little cliff with a long slope of sand stretching out in front of it. We used to climb to the top of the slope and then run down, or roll down all the way to the bottom. I kind of remember Brad stepping on a cactus there one time. I think Mom has some pictures of us rolling down that slope.
Speaking of pictures, I remember one picture that Mom has. It is of me holding a tiny little tadpole in my cupped hands. I only vaguely remember catching tadpoles where the water was very shallow. Actually, I think someone else caught the tadpole, maybe Brad, and gave it to me so Mom could take the picture. I was very young, couldn’t have been more than five. I think my hair was still mostly blond in that picture.
Of course, we would go out on the boat, too, but that wasn’t my favorite part of going to the lake. Dad liked to go fishing, but I never cared much for it. Also, Mom and the older kids would water ski, but I was too little. We had to wear those bulky orange life-jackets, too, and I hated wearing them. I remember one time when the boat broke down, and Dad had to call out on the CB radio to get someone to tow us back to the marina.
Just fragments. I remember Spam and squeezy cheese in a tube that we put on crackers or celery. I remember different flavors of Shasta sodas, we call it pop here in the Midwest. Those were special treats that we only indulged in at the lake, making our time there even more special. I can’t really remember what else we ate. I remember the little portable am/fm radio. Barry Manilow’s “Copa Cabana” was a big hit one summer, I remember hearing it on the radio at the lake. And sand, sand, sand. No matter how you tried, it just got into everything.
Our little family vacations sure were fun, and they always ended too soon. The saddest part was taking the boat out of the water because then you really knew it was over. “Just one more dip in the water? Please, Mom, please?” The answer was always "No.” Back into the pickup we went, and back home to the boring old farm.
Those were the good old days, all right. It’s tempting, sometimes, to wish for those days again, but that’s just not the way of things. God gave each one of us a unique past, and a unique set of life experiences. All of our lives He works to make each one of us a unique and valuable part of His plan.
We all have good memories, and bad memories. We should never wish the bad ones had never happened, because they made us who we are, just as much as the good ones did. Wishing for a different past is like telling God He made a mistake. He shaped each of us to perform a particular task, something that no other person on Earth can do. It’s our job to find out what that task is, and do it to the best of our abilities. And the greatest thing about God is that it’s never too late. As long as you are drawing breath, there’s still time. Make the most of it!
1 Corinthians 12:12 The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.
That was a lot different than the family vacations we took when I was a kid. I’m talking way back in the 70’s, when Mom and Dad were still married. Dad was a farmer, as I have mentioned before, and we couldn’t go anywhere as long as he had to water the crops. So we waited for rain. It had to be a pretty good rain, too, so that he didn’t have to irrigate for a few days. When the rain finally came, we would put the topper on the pickup, hook up the boat, and head for Lake McConaughy, which is out east near Ogallala, Nebraska..
Mom and Dad would ride up front, and us four kids all rode in the back of the pickup with lots of blankets and pillows to flop around on. The tent, sleeping bags and coolers would all be packed in the boat for the trip. Those were such simple times. We didn’t worry about seat belts and air bags and crash test ratings, we just hopped in the back of the pickup, and off we went. If anyone tried that today, they’d probably be thrown in jail and their kids sent to foster homes. I don’t remember at all how long the trip to the lake was. I know it had to be at least a couple of hours, but we didn't mind. Getting there really was half the fun in those days.
Most of my memories of our camping trips are only fragments. There wasn't any one trip in particular that stands out in my mind. Our tent was blue and yellow and was big enough for all six of us. I remember the pitch blackness of those nights in the tent. I was afraid of the dark as a child, but with my family all around me, there was nothing to be afraid of. One memory fragment I have is of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling cold. I got up and carefully felt my way around for a minute looking for the pile of blankets. When I found a blanket and tried to take it, someone pulled back, so I think I gave up.
Those bright summer days of roaming the sandy shore of the lake seemed endless. The particular area where we always camped had kind of a little cliff with a long slope of sand stretching out in front of it. We used to climb to the top of the slope and then run down, or roll down all the way to the bottom. I kind of remember Brad stepping on a cactus there one time. I think Mom has some pictures of us rolling down that slope.
Speaking of pictures, I remember one picture that Mom has. It is of me holding a tiny little tadpole in my cupped hands. I only vaguely remember catching tadpoles where the water was very shallow. Actually, I think someone else caught the tadpole, maybe Brad, and gave it to me so Mom could take the picture. I was very young, couldn’t have been more than five. I think my hair was still mostly blond in that picture.
Of course, we would go out on the boat, too, but that wasn’t my favorite part of going to the lake. Dad liked to go fishing, but I never cared much for it. Also, Mom and the older kids would water ski, but I was too little. We had to wear those bulky orange life-jackets, too, and I hated wearing them. I remember one time when the boat broke down, and Dad had to call out on the CB radio to get someone to tow us back to the marina.
Just fragments. I remember Spam and squeezy cheese in a tube that we put on crackers or celery. I remember different flavors of Shasta sodas, we call it pop here in the Midwest. Those were special treats that we only indulged in at the lake, making our time there even more special. I can’t really remember what else we ate. I remember the little portable am/fm radio. Barry Manilow’s “Copa Cabana” was a big hit one summer, I remember hearing it on the radio at the lake. And sand, sand, sand. No matter how you tried, it just got into everything.
Our little family vacations sure were fun, and they always ended too soon. The saddest part was taking the boat out of the water because then you really knew it was over. “Just one more dip in the water? Please, Mom, please?” The answer was always "No.” Back into the pickup we went, and back home to the boring old farm.
Those were the good old days, all right. It’s tempting, sometimes, to wish for those days again, but that’s just not the way of things. God gave each one of us a unique past, and a unique set of life experiences. All of our lives He works to make each one of us a unique and valuable part of His plan.
We all have good memories, and bad memories. We should never wish the bad ones had never happened, because they made us who we are, just as much as the good ones did. Wishing for a different past is like telling God He made a mistake. He shaped each of us to perform a particular task, something that no other person on Earth can do. It’s our job to find out what that task is, and do it to the best of our abilities. And the greatest thing about God is that it’s never too late. As long as you are drawing breath, there’s still time. Make the most of it!
1 Corinthians 12:12 The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Astri's Story
**Note for screen-readers: My reader is not pronouncing Astri correctly. The spelling is A,S,T,R,I. The emphasis is on the first syllable, and the second syllable is pronounced tree, not try.
Greetings, and welcome to Drums In The Deep. You’ve come at a good time because I’m about to describe one of the most important periods of my life. A truly defining moment if ever there was one. This is Astri’s story…
Astri’s story begins in late 2003. Joni, Adam, and I had been living together for about half a year and we were struggling pretty hard. Struggling financially as we always have, but also struggling to adapt to our new lives as a family. It was October of that year that Joni discovered she was pregnant.
Now, I won’t try to describe Joni’s thoughts or feelings here because that is her story to tell, but I can give you my own perspective. I was scared. The thought of having a baby was exciting, but mostly it was scary.
First of all, what would my family think? Joni and I were not married and I worried that they would not approve. Also, how on earth were we going to afford a baby? We were barely paying the bills as it was. And would I be a good father? I already had a six year old daughter back in Nebraska that I had only seen a couple of times.
As you can see, I was really hung up on things like universal approval and money and failure. Well, without God in my life these are the kinds of things that consumed me. These are the things I thought were important. It’s sad to think about those days.
In spite of all my fear and worry, I gradually got used to the idea of having a baby. We talked about names. Joni liked the name Steven for a boy, go figure. I liked the name Astri for a girl. I was big into genealogy at the time and the nameAstri appeared several times in a Norwegian branch of my family.
Okay, fast forward to April 2004. It was a Monday and I had gone to work as usual. At around 9 or 10 that morning Joni called me and said, “I need to go to the hospital”. Oh boy, not good. Astri was not due until June. I raced home as fast as I could to pick up Joni and Adam and off we went. Adam is, and was, home-schooled if you’re wondering why he was home. The hospital was only about a mile away so that was good.
They took Joni in right away to make her comfortable while Adam and I went off to fill out paperwork. But we were all together again in time for the ultrasound. The doctor confirmed what we were already beginning to suspect. Astri was no longer living.
After that, they put Joni in a delivery room. All that was left to do was wait. They said the baby would come out naturally. They were going to make Adam wait outside when it was time but I think God had other plans. Joni gave birth very quickly and sooner than was expected. The three of us were alone in the room when it happened. Maybe you’re thinking that wasn’t a good place for an 8 year old to be, but I’m glad he can look back on that experience and say, “I was there”.
Astri Celia Brandt was born on April 26, 2004. She would have been 5 this year and starting school. She was with us for such a short time, and yet she will be with us forever. I love you Astri, and I miss you.
Mark 10:14 But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased and said unto them; Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.f
Greetings, and welcome to Drums In The Deep. You’ve come at a good time because I’m about to describe one of the most important periods of my life. A truly defining moment if ever there was one. This is Astri’s story…
Astri’s story begins in late 2003. Joni, Adam, and I had been living together for about half a year and we were struggling pretty hard. Struggling financially as we always have, but also struggling to adapt to our new lives as a family. It was October of that year that Joni discovered she was pregnant.
Now, I won’t try to describe Joni’s thoughts or feelings here because that is her story to tell, but I can give you my own perspective. I was scared. The thought of having a baby was exciting, but mostly it was scary.
First of all, what would my family think? Joni and I were not married and I worried that they would not approve. Also, how on earth were we going to afford a baby? We were barely paying the bills as it was. And would I be a good father? I already had a six year old daughter back in Nebraska that I had only seen a couple of times.
As you can see, I was really hung up on things like universal approval and money and failure. Well, without God in my life these are the kinds of things that consumed me. These are the things I thought were important. It’s sad to think about those days.
In spite of all my fear and worry, I gradually got used to the idea of having a baby. We talked about names. Joni liked the name Steven for a boy, go figure. I liked the name Astri for a girl. I was big into genealogy at the time and the nameAstri appeared several times in a Norwegian branch of my family.
Okay, fast forward to April 2004. It was a Monday and I had gone to work as usual. At around 9 or 10 that morning Joni called me and said, “I need to go to the hospital”. Oh boy, not good. Astri was not due until June. I raced home as fast as I could to pick up Joni and Adam and off we went. Adam is, and was, home-schooled if you’re wondering why he was home. The hospital was only about a mile away so that was good.
They took Joni in right away to make her comfortable while Adam and I went off to fill out paperwork. But we were all together again in time for the ultrasound. The doctor confirmed what we were already beginning to suspect. Astri was no longer living.
After that, they put Joni in a delivery room. All that was left to do was wait. They said the baby would come out naturally. They were going to make Adam wait outside when it was time but I think God had other plans. Joni gave birth very quickly and sooner than was expected. The three of us were alone in the room when it happened. Maybe you’re thinking that wasn’t a good place for an 8 year old to be, but I’m glad he can look back on that experience and say, “I was there”.
Astri Celia Brandt was born on April 26, 2004. She would have been 5 this year and starting school. She was with us for such a short time, and yet she will be with us forever. I love you Astri, and I miss you.
Mark 10:14 But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased and said unto them; Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.f
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