This morning is likely a

This morning is likely a walker morning, though I might be able to function with just the cane.
We'll see when PT comes.

Attack last night. Hit just

Attack last night. Hit just as my movie ended. Was already in bed when hit.
Both shoulders hurt terribly as did my chest.

Monday Afternoon

Monday, August 18, 2008

I was hoping that I would feel better than I do, in order to write a concise entry, however, I feel poorly regardless of my wants and desires so this will be shorter than most of my diatribes. In order to have something to compare to, I would describe my feeling poorly at this point, as, fairly nauseous, weak, muscle pain and cramping, and just general malaise. Bleh.

Today was the first day of school for both Missy and Joshua. In complete contrast to how I recall my first days of school, Missy and Josh were very excited to get to school and see their friends and begin classes again. CC and I will feel that the kids had really come to me as their friends from school and having a regular connection every day, so we were not surprised. When both kids came home with good reports about their first day of school.

Most of my morning was spent editing MP3s of Sting and The Police. Fortunately, the audio software that I use for multi-tracking and recording allows me to edit and restore MP3s from normal fidelity to good fidelity. Most MP3s are created with 128 bit encryption, that is to say that, when a CD is ripped into MP3 or Windows media format, the standard default encryption and fidelity is 128 bits, which allows you the smallest file size for the best audio, by comparison. Audio that is uploaded onto the Web is generally very compressed audio, and thus it is a smaller bit ratio, allowing for a smaller file size. The larger the bit encryption, the larger the file size, however, the better the quality of the audio. I believe the best audio format is WAV, which in its raw form is not compressed at all. So, why does all this matter? Being a musician as well as being a person who has dedicated the better part of my life to creating the best audio atmosphere I possibly can in the venues that I've worked in, when I listen to recorded music, I want it to be the best quality it can be, technically. When I am able, I go through my MP3 library and restore MP3s to the best quality that they can be, and to keep them as an MP3, I change their bit ratio from 128 to 320 and I also restore the audio fidelity to the songs via the same software. Boy, that took a long time to just say that I spent the morning editing and restoring MP3s to the best quality that they can be, in this morning's focus was on Sting and The Police. I am still in search of the first two albums from The Police; I have really enjoyed their early years in their fresh approach to the music they played.

I took a break for a couple hours, at CC's wise request, and lay down to see if I would feel better, but no such luck, so I am finishing this out. The highlight of my day, though, was receiving a call from Phil, my brother of many, many years. We talked on the phone for quite awhile and caught up with each other's lives. Hopefully it will work out for us to stay in better contact; Lord knows that I have been poor at that in many relationships, unfortunately.

I seem to be able to speak a few sentences at a time and then I have to rest by just hanging my head down and waiting for more strength and more words to come so I can speak them into the mic and it can write into this blog. Again, this software is truly a godsend for me and I am very, very grateful.

Words of gratitude, seldom satisfy the heart of the one who is grateful, yet all we can hope for, is that the one who is and was gracious, will read the words of gratitude and somehow interpret correctly, the heart of the grateful.

I am frustrated and feel badly that I'm not able to write more and to convey more than I am at this point. The issue lies with my strength and my constitution, which are currently both betraying me. In some very, very slight way, I feel some glimmer of identification with the Scripture that says, in effect, "The Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak...".
Today, I'm weak.

Perhaps more tomorrow, without all the whining.

Monday Early Again...

Monday, August 18, 2008

It's 1:06 am and I have been looking for sound effect files for over an hour and a half, but have found some possible cool ones...we'll see.
Attack today following visit with good friends; same M.O.- sweating, brain fog, spasms then leg/feet locks.
Complete body sweat/soak around 11 pm while on computer; sweat dripping from glasses, eye brows ears, chin...clear evidence of my body dumping major potassium for some reason. Maybe an attack while I sleep tonight...we shall know if CC wakes up from it and/or if the sheets are soaked from sweat when I wake up.

Kids go to school tomorrow... :-o( I like them being home with me. rats.

There's much to catch up on:

• Reporting on the family's time at Water World in Concord
• The kids weekend trip with Angel
• CC's control of the back yard
• My lasting for two shopping outings using the motorized chair
• Visit yesterday (Sunday) with Carl and Madoli
• Saturday was Mantis Day: My run-in with a praying mantis ( a most favorite insect)
• Movie reviews
  

More later, I guess...
Oh yes, two of my praying mantis pics...click on them to see them full size:



peace-

2 Days in a Row Without a Full Attack

Thursday, August 14, 2008.

I left off in the last entry, speaking of medical miracles. There is one very specific and most memorable miraculous healing that took place; I believe it was May 3 of 1998. But before I get to that, I need to recall the day's history. The night before last, CC and I talked long and hard regarding going out down to Concord today, to the water park there and spending the night at a hotel in Concord, and then dropping off our kids with my niece and her husband so that the four of them could spend time on Saturday and Sunday. And then the plan was, after dropping them off on Friday, that we would drive back up here to the house and then sometime on Sunday, Angel, my niece, would bring the kids back to us or we would meet her somewhere midway between her house and ours.

Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, at least not for me anyway. After much discussion and consideration of the travel time in the Van, the expected high temperatures during the day and afternoon, the possible minimal shade opportunities at the water park, the stupid admission fee of $30 just for me to get in, unknown water temperatures contrasting with the exterior heat, and considering the distinct possibility of me having an attack while at the park, made looking at going on this trip, much more a difficult choice than an easy one. The bottom line is that I did not go, however CC and the kids did go. Kirsten and Danny also went to the water park, but they went up to Auburn first and then came back down and went to the park to be with CC and the kids and all have fun together. According to the phone call that I made an hour and a half ago, after speaking with Missy and Joshua both, it sounds like everyone truly had a very good time, though they said that they missed me. If we had chosen to say "to hell with all this other stuff! We're just going to go to the waterpark and make it work", each one of our group would have always been waiting for me to suffer an attack; while I was waiting for them to come back from whatever ride they were going on, each one of them would have been robbed of their opportunity to focus on the fun and to focus on their time with each other, all because nobody would know how I'm doing and if things are okay. If I were to be laying down, taking a nap, they would be rushing over to find out if I'm in the middle of an attack or not. And worst case scenario, if I was having an attack, then the kids would have had to stay with Kirsten and Danny while CC took me out to the Van. She would've had to have somebody else help her lift me into the Van and then to get me to the hotel the same whole process repeated, all of this while the kids are at the park with Kirsten and Danny... Wow...seriously wordy and descriptive just to get to here...sheesh...

On this trip, it was not the smart thing for me to go. To say that I miss them is the epitome of understatement. Was I lonely today, once everybody left? Very much so. Why wouldn't I be? It seemed logical to have those feelings so I had them; chose not to focus on them and put a DVD movie in and focused on that instead.

To make sure that I would be covered while CC was gone, I called my parents and asked if they would be able to come up for Thursday afternoon and evening and Friday, while CC was away. My parents arrived today around four o'clock, and spent a very low-key and relax afternoon and evening; just hanging out. I took a two hour nap shortly after they arrived, and then, after talking a bit more and then taking Annie for a walk around the block using the chair, I felt it was time to get ready to go to bed being that it was about nine o'clock.
What is interesting to note about today is that, similar to a certain point yesterday, I became extremely fatigued in just a matter of 30 seconds or so and had a very difficult time keeping my eyes open. It was as if I just had to pass out and go to sleep. That happened yesterday, and it's happened today as well. Prior to yesterday, it has happened on numerous days, normally only one time in a day; occasionally two times in a day, if the day involved longer hours and more activity. I'm sure that there is something to be noted within all of this at the moment. I'm not certain what parallels I could draw from a medically.

The Miracle of the Missing Person
As noted in a previous entry, in October of 1995, I broke my lower back at the L5/S1 location. I went through two surgeries; one surgery, where they fused the L5 and S1 bones together and placed in two metallic plates with bolts to hold it all together and then a second surgery a year later to remove the bolts and the plates and to test the strength of the fusion site. Now, what I had not mentioned in the other entries regarding this occurrence is that about three weeks after the bone actually broke, I began having severe painful shocks down my right leg, in my waist, in my lower back, in my hips, and I would have muscle jumps, where my whole body would jump almost violently, so much so that if I was holding something when one of those jumps would strike me I would throw whatever was in my hands. I didn't mean to throw it, I didn't try to throw it, my hand simply could not hold onto to it and my arms would shoot out in a burst of energy and then drop. CC's and my daughter, Missy, was about two years old at that time, and one of the most incredible things for me in my life at that time was to hold my daughter, but it was immediately clear to us that I could no longer hold her as long as whatever was happening to me was continuing to happen, because I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her, should I have one of those attacks while I was holding her.
So I'll move fast forward to now passed all of the non-invasive methods of treatments I tried prior to surgery, of which none worked, so eventually I made an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon and I told him "Let's get this surgery done as soon as absolutely possible. This ongoing pain, and these muscle contractions are destroying me and they're destroying my life." The doctor made it very clear to me that the surgery would very likely fix the problems with my bones and the weakness in my back and, by clinical standards and perceptions, my surgeries will be deemed successful. However, he also made it very clear that it was only a 50%-50% chance that the surgery would, in some way, mitigate or stop the severe and debilitating muscle and nerve pain that I had begun to experience short weeks following the actual break. We'll jump ahead now to the end of the second of the two surgeries where both surgeries were deemed miraculous and in credible. And I was told that I have one of the strongest fused sections of vertebrae that he had ever performed. This of course made me feel very, very good about the hard work and the hardware that had been done on the bones. Turns out, that much nerve damage had been done at the moment of the bone break in the L5 vertebrae and in the following months before going into surgery with those loose pieces of bone touching different nerve centers and nerve clusters, possibly even the spinal cord itself on occasion. We had all been hoping and praying that the fixing of the bone in the fusion of the vertebrae would somehow miraculously heal the muscles and nerves in and around that whole area. I was never short on prayers; several churches, several prayer groups, many family, tons of friends were all praying for my healing and restoration and rapid relief of the vicious chronic pain that ultimately would only leave me with the use of heavy, strong narcotics.

A little extra backtrack; after the first surgery. We moved our family from living over in Fremont to live in at my parents house, where a hospital bed had been sent to so that I could sleep in a special bed in order to heal. My parents moved out into their Airstream trailer and they lived their for nearly 2 years while we lived in the home and with them in the living space.

Fast forward again. Shortly after beginning recovery, I began not sleeping. Simply due to the level of pain that I was experiencing. I could not go to sleep whenever you else went to go to sleep. I would lay awake waiting for some kind of relief so that my brain could take a break and shut off. Shortly after my first surgery in 1996, I was given a medicine that was to help me be able to go to sleep and numb me up enough so that I was not in constant pain. This medicine was Carisoprodol also known as SOMA. I took this medicine for nearly 2 years straight, during which time it served its purpose, very effectively. However, it is a highly addictive drug. Not many hospitals prescribe the use of that particular medicine due to the reality that once Soma goes into the brain and is broken down into its purely chemical form, it is literally the exact same metabolic compound as heroin. My original prescription was one to two 350 mg pills as needed, every four to six hours. After using the medicine for over 2 years, I took myself off the medicine on my own; I stopped cold turkey at the level of taking 12 to 14 pills at a time. The pain that I had been experiencing never went away and just as soon as the medicine would begin to wear off, the pain would ebb and flow right back in to my brain, so I would take more medicine, and on and on it went. I guess the reason that I'm sharing this with you is so that you can understand the magnitude of the miracle that was to come. Not only was I in incredible physical pain, but I was in incredible emotional pain as well. Watching my personality and happiness, slowly drift out of reach, all because I was in a pain that I couldn't escape and the only thing I knew to do was take more medicine. That's not to say that I wasn't trying to use physical therapy and exercising to make myself well, I was doing that as often as I was able, but when people are going through something like this, they tend to feel very much alone, and then if they take heavy narcotics then they spend much more time with themselves and their dreams and their imaginations more than they spend with real people, real friends in real family.

When 1998 had come around, I had become a pretty angry man. I felt God had forgotten me, and at the same time I felt that God owed me nothing, considering all the things that he had done for me in the past that I was not in a position to ask for anything else, because he done so much for me already. I took myself off the painkiller Soma and just began to accept the level of pain as a daily thing. And I took lesser painkillers that were less addictive, and they were less effective as well. During this time, a sore had begun on my left foot; it was a small sore in between my toes. I couldn't see it, let alone I couldn't reach it and I had noticed that my toes had begun to turn a reddish color. So I was figuring that I'm waiting for the infection to come to a head and then I'll deal with that and then the infection will be gone. I was wrong. Over a couple of nights the pain in my left leg had surpassed my threshold, and it had my complete attention. It had not hurt so much prior to this point because both of my legs during that time frame were 50% numb into my feet as well; as if the skin belonged to somebody else; the nerves were completely dead in certain areas and unfortunately, the infection site was one of those areas and the affected toes were also in that same area. My foot, ankle and lower leg (from my knee down) had all turned a brown/reddish color and had swollen as if filled with water. It just looked wrong, almost over night.

I was taken in to see my doctor and he walked in, looked at the foot, pulled the toes apart, looked to the foot again said "Just a minute..." and walked out of the room. Three minutes later walked back in the room with another doctor and this doctor did the same thing; looked at my foot, pulled the toes apart, looked at my foot then looked up at me and said "Can someone drive you over to the hospital or shall we call an ambulance for you?" I was stunned. I asked what the big deal is and can't we lance it and just give me some antibiotic cream to go home with? They both chuckled a nervous serious chuckle and said "No. That's not an option. You have an infection called cellulitis in your left foot, possibly left leg, and we need to get you into the hospital to get IV antibiotics into your body as soon as absolutely possible in order to save your foot and possibly your leg...so, do you have a car or not?" CC drove me over to the hospital, where they whisked me away into a room and hooked me up to multiple IV sites and started pumping antibiotics, fluids, and painkillers in to me. I believe I was in the hospital for 10 days, and both doctors were speechless that I suffered no tissue or bone damage from this infection that, thanks to the nerve damage, I could not feel. I was told that the infection grows quickly and does damage as quickly as it grows; my infection went uncontested for weeks, which should have prevented me from walking and numerous other activities, simply due to the level of pain that I should have been in. The doctors fully expected me to lose my left foot above the ankle and quite possibly below the knee. They had come in and talked with me about that, to help me understand it and to begin accepting and embracing this incredible change that was about to happen to my body because of a terrible infection.

Quite simply put; I guess God didn't want me to lose my left foot. There are no other reasons.

So, hopefully now you have kind of a larger picture of just how screwed up I was between 96 and 97 and into 98, and how angry I was, how careless I was, how apathetic I was, and yet...How desperate I was. By 1998 on a good day, I could walk with only a cane. On a mediocre day or a bad day, if I could walk at all, I had to walk with a cane and crutch, all the while fueling my anger. Oh yes, one of the last filters for you to look through while reading this story; from the middle of March in 1996 to the middle of 1998, my wife and I were unable to even sleep in the same bed.

The morning of May 3, 1998, I woke up in the same mood as I had gone to bed in and saw myself in the bedroom mirror and decided it was time to change the facial hair from one style to another style. I just needed a change of some kind. Something to represent some kind of new day that I was hoping I might be able to grasp onto. On this occasion, I decided to bring in a portable boombox into the bathroom so that I could play some music while I was in the bathroom getting cleaned up and seeing if I could fine-tune my pity party into a most effective state. I paid no attention to the disk in the CD player. I merely pushed play, turned on the hot water, grabbed the washcloths, got my razor out and began staring at myself in the mirror while preparing my scalp to be shaved with the razor and hot water.

Within mere seconds, I was in a trance; staring into my own eyes, locked in a daze that I could not break out of listening to a musical bed that was irresistible to hear, and then listening to words that slowly pulled away the scabs covering my hurts, covering my pains, covering my anger, covering the places that had become familiar, dependable hurts.

The name of the song is/was called "Missing Person" and the artist is Michael W. Smith. Please DON’T skip over these lyrics; see what they say to you…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another question in me

One for the powers that be

Its got me thrown and so

I put on my poker face

And try to figure it out

This undeniable doubt

A common occurrence

Feeling so out of place

Guarded and cynical now

Cant help but wondering how

My heart evolved into a

Rock beating inside of me

So I reel, such a stoic ordeal

Wheres that feeling that I dont feel?

Chorus:

There was a boy who had the faith to move a mountain

And like a child he would believe without a reason

Without a trace he disappeared into the void and

Ive been searching for that missing person

Under a lavender moon

So many thoughts consume me

Who dimmed that glowing light

That once burned so bright in me

Is this a radical phase

A problematical age

That keeps me running

From all that I used to be

Is there a way to return

Is there a way to unlearn

That carnal knowledge

Thats chipping away at my soul

Ive been gone too long

Will I ever find my way home?

Chorus:

There was a boy who had the faith to move a mountain

And like a child he would believe without a reason

Without a trace he disappeared into the void and

Ive been searching for that missing person

He used to want to try to walk the straight and narrow

He had a fire and he could feel it in the marrow

Its been a long time and I haven’t seen him lately but

Ive been searching for that missing person

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the song came to an end, my eyes were streaming tears and I knew, right then and there, I KNEW that God was speaking to me. He chose a method (music) an artist (Michael W. Smith) and a mirror for no distractions to share with me that He does love me and that He never left the path we were walking on together,,,I did. He didn't choose the many things that befell me leading up to my back issues and such...I chose them, each one of them, one at a time.

Hearing that song and seeing myself, I knew I was the boy in the song and that song would change my life forever. As I consciously asked forgiveness for my stone casings around my heart and spirit, I felt the undeniable touch of something upon the very top of my head; as if you walk through a doorway and part of a low hanging spider web brushes the very top of your head, I felt that physical touch. It was simultaneously followed by hot electricity which coursed through every part of my body; fingertips to littlest toes. As I blinked my eyes in response to the shock, my eyes opened and the room appeared brighter and more clear/colorful than just seconds before. As if I had taken off smudged contact lenses for the first time, only I don't wear them and didn't wear them then either. Then came more uncontrollable tears, rinsing me out.

I was in a state of shock. Now, I knew what joy felt like; I remembered it vividly. I was in it.

I played the song again and just listened some more and just cried some more while I washed out my insides from the crap and the pain I had been struggling to carry along with me everywhere I went. I realized that I couldn't think of anything to be angry about in that moment. I had truly been healed by an actual PHYSICAL touch of the Holy Spirit upon my shaved head and had been purged and purified through an electrical fire that ran rampantly, terrifically through my broken emotional catacombs and He burned away all the luggage that was no longer mine to keep and drag; He simply did away with it since He knew I'd not the strength to even open their rusty and broken latches.

In those moments of lucid clarity, I promised Him (Jesus, God, Holy Spirit, the Biggest of the Big Dogs) that I would tell this story in short or long fashion to anyone who would ask of me how my back is doing or "what happened with your back?". I would tell of His wonders that morning when I walked into a bathroom with a cane and a crutch and then walked out some time later, walking with no cane, no limp, no crutch, no pain. I did not use a cane again until November of 2006 when it became clear that my disease, HKPP, has brought about permanent muscle damage and weakness in my right leg and right side.

Of everything that I have written up though now in this blog, this entry is unquestionably the most important entry I've written.

Oh sheesh. ...it's 2:19 am...go figure. Right on time, 'eh?

Recollections & Thoughts

Wednesday, August 12, 2008

Yesterday, Tuesday, I began writing of my experiences (as written below) and before finishing, we needed to leave to go to Pottery. We glazed/colored our different clay makings and just as I was about to begin glazing one of CC’s creations, the exhaustion hit hard. Sweating followed and complete brain fog and I was helped out to the van. Got home and then helped upstairs and then meds and then to sleep. Sucky end to a reasonable day.

Kirsten’s boyfriend Danny came up yesterday and spent the night last night with us. Not sure what the plans are for today.

Okay, onto the lengthy part of the blog…over 3,000 words, I think…

I got to thinking two nights ago, as I was going to sleep, that it would be good to remember in this blog, some of the miracles that have taken place in my life. So, my hope here is to recall as accurately as I can, some of the many miracles that God has done in my life, and it is through remembering these incredible events that I can share with others what God has done for me and in me and I can remind myself that regardless of how I feel and regardless of what is going on, that He is in control. This will not be a short entry, nor should it be, I guess…

Orange county truck

A few years back, CC and I took Missy and Joshua down to Los Angeles to surprise Missy on her birthday with a trip to Disneyland. The coolest part of this trip was that we did succeed in surprising her and to the best of my knowledge he had a great time while we were there. Something she still remembers today. During that trip, while we were in Orange County, I believe that we were driving. One evening to go to dinner, and while driving on one of the main thoroughfares, we watched a small pickup truck that was way up in front of us, swerve and then hit the curb and roll onto its top where it stopped. In no time at all, we were passing the accident, and I turned the Van around so that we were now heading the same direction as the accident vehicle was heading, and I instructed. CC in the kids to stay in the car and I got out and ran over to the truck to see if I can help get the driver out of the truck. Nobody else had gotten to the truck by the time I got there. And I was able to open the passenger door and the driver was probably my size maybe a little bit heavier than me and just hanging upside down, being held in by his seatbelt. He seemed pretty dazed and out of it; he had either hit the steering wheel or hit the windshield or dashboard, I couldn't tell what that he had hit, but he had a cut or some kind of abrasion on his forehead. It seemed like, in no time at all, I was hearing people from across the street who were yelling to me that there was smoke coming from the engine block and that it was likely catching fire. While I have been trying to figure out what the safest and easiest way would be to get him out of the truck and not worrying about doing it quickly, hearing the people from across the street did an effective job of changing my thought process from "safety and easy", to "get him out now", but unfortunately, nobody else had gotten to the truck to help me with him, so I reached and found the seat buckle connection and tried to unlatch the seatbelt and pull his shoulder at the same time so that he would not land on his head when he dropped. Fortunately for him, but unfortunately for me, when the seat belt released, all 250 or 270 pounds of him came down on my right arm and shoulder, but he did not land on his head or neck. Once he was loose from the seatbelt, another person was at the car door next to me and he and I pulled him from the truck and we pulled him over to a grassy location just across the sidewalk from where his truck landed. Very shortly after he was out of the truck. The police and the fire department showed up, and I gave my statement to them. The fire Department extinguished, whatever had caught fire in the engine and an ambulance was pulling up just after I had given my statement and I walked back to our van so that we can continue on to dinner. When I got into the van, Missy was crying and very upset that I had left them in the car and I could've gotten hurt being there and helping him by myself.

I put this event in the "miracle" category, because:

1.) I was in a position to be able to help the person in the truck

2.) When I opened the passenger door, it opened without issue

3.) My arm and my shoulder didn't break when all that weight fell on it

4.) I was able to help pull him out of the truck with two of us pulling essentially 250 plus pounds of dead weight (no he wasn't dead, but you know what I mean)

when I saw the truck flipped over, something inside me new that I was going to go, and that I was supposed to go and help the person in the truck. It did not occur to me to call 911 and to wait and watch for somebody else to go and help him or for me to wait for somebody else to come and help me to help him. Anytime I feel that God has given me a directive, something nearly audible in my head that I feel is an instruction of something to do, I consider that miraculous in my life while at the same time, being completely aware of the reality of how small I am and how great He is.

Concert Fight Night

During 1988 through 1991, I was in a band called Forthright, a Christian, hard rock/metal band that played some of the clubs in Los Angeles and Orange County as well as played at churches, colleges and even a picnic or two. On a Friday night in the summer of 1990, we played a concert at a church in Fullerton. The concert went very well and we all felt very good about the evening, so after loading up the trailer with all of our gear and getting most of our stuff ready to go, Brian (our soundman) and I loaded up into my Bronco II and we left ahead of the rest of the band to head back to my house. As we were coming down a long stretch of hill in downtown Fullerton, there was a major light/intersection that we were coming to and on the other side of the intersection from us, on the left-hand side, was a mall parking lot that was pretty much empty, with the exception of a few cars that were parked in the parking places closest to the Boulevard that we were traveling on. Brian and I could see a group of guys gathered around on the sidewalk and they appeared to be in two lines facing each other; what looked to be about 15 or 20 Hispanic guys total. As we got closer, I could see that there were two individuals that were fighting, and this fight was taking place in between the two lines of guys. When we came to the intersection where the fight was taking place just across from us, the light was red so Brian and I watched what was going on while we waited for the green light. Once I got the green light, I went through the intersection, and as we were driving by the fight I could see that it was no longer a fight anymore; one of the guys was no longer fighting and was on his back while the person who had been fighting with him, was sitting on top of him and using the other guys shirt and shoulders to repeatedly hit the back of his head on the pavement. In that moment I felt that I was watching a killing take place, and something inside of me clicked and I knew then and there that I was supposed to go hand break it up. All of this happened in a matter of seconds, and after having just passed the fight, I then turned the truck around and I stopped the truck, probably 50 feet from where the fight was happening. I told Brian that I was going to stop the fight and told him to go find a pay phone and call 911.

What I failed to mention earlier is that, as a band, we chose to dress the part of a hard rock/metal band, which meant that all of us had long hair and that we wore denim, leather, boots and sometimes long coats to increase our stage presence. This night was no different from any other concert night, so I was wearing my cowboy boots denim jeans, a white T-shirt under my black leather biker jacket, which had a sleeveless denim vest over the top of it and the vest itself had metal chains going from the front to the back. So, when I got out of the truck and began running towards this group of guys, I know that they saw a 6' 2", bigger than life, biker-looking guy running towards them, yelling at them to "knock it off" and "stop fighting". Now, in hindsight, I completely realize how stupid this must have seemed and even how stupid it must seem even now, but there was no question in my mind at all that I was supposed to go and break up this fight. I guess I was still on a spiritual high from our concert an hour or so before, and I didn't think twice about what I was supposed to go and do. Brian, on the other hand, had thought more than twice about what I was going to be doing in the brief moments while I was turning the truck around was pleading with me not to go do something stupid. At any rate, when the truck stopped, Brian got out and ran across the street to a gas station and I got out, and started running at the guys in the fight. As I got near to the group of guys, most all of them, including the one who was beating the other one senseless, turned their heads and looked at me, and it was as if the blood ran out of their faces; to me they looked briefly pale with the scared look on their face and all of them scattered, running back to their cars and leaving their friend to die in the street. When I got up to the guy who was lying in the street. His eyes had rolled back into his head and he was bleeding badly from the back of his head and on his neck. Somehow, I was able to cradle him in my arms with his head and neck resting on my right arm with my left arm under his knees, and I picked him up off of the street. It was then that I realized he was probably 5'10" to 6' tall and kind of chubby, so he weighed at lease 200 pounds. When I turned to look into the parking lot, a group of guys were in a convertible, gesturing at me to bring him to them, so I walked as quickly as I could to their car and as I neared their car, one of the guys got out and took off his shirt and wrapped it around the injured guys head, and I handed him off to the guys in the car. No sooner had he left my arms, they peeled out of the parking lot, over the curb and down the cross boulevard, hopefully on their way to a hospital. In the distance I could hear the sounds of sirens approaching so I ran back to my truck where Brian was waiting for me, and we both got into the truck, and I turned it around and headed on home. We got to my house, I went into the bathroom to wash the blood off of my jacket and off of my hands and CC had asked what had happened, because she had not gone to the concert that night. I explained everything to her, and likewise, when the rest of the band got to the house.

I cannot remember if it was the following day or a few days after that I spoke to a pastor friend of mine, pretty much my spiritual mentor at the time, and I shared with him what had happened. I wasn't shaking any longer from the adrenaline that had surged through me that evening, but I was wrestling with what I felt was a slight lack of intelligence and wisdom in that moment of running into a gang fight with the intention to break it up. He shared with me that I had done exactly what God had called me to do in that moment and that, though, it was physically just me running from my truck towards the guys, it is quite likely that the guys saw me plus a number of angelic fighters running towards them that caused them fear, and so much so, that they would all run away. I had not considered that possibility, but after thinking about it, his words seemed almost like the missing piece of the puzzle and to this day, I'm absolutely certain that they did not see me running towards them, but they saw what God wanted them to see.

I don't think I need to clarify the miraculous elements of this occasion, there are far too many of them.

Medical Miracles

Back in October of 1995, I broke my L5 vertebrae into three pieces and subsequently in April of 1996, underwent surgery to remove the broken pieces of vertebrae, and to implant to steel plates with bolts called Steffi plates, which were used to solidify and protect the broken area of my back. Approximately 1 year later, in March of 1997, I had a second surgery in which the surgeons went in and took out all of the metal that they had put in as well as tested the fusion point of the L5 and S1 repair.

The miraculous elements of these two surgeries were that age surgery should have taken between five and seven hours, however in my case, each surgery took approximately 3 hours. This may not seem like a very big deal, but what needs to be factored in his bat. I chose to donate my own blood to each surgery, so a matter of weeks before the intended surgery date, I went in and they collected kinds of blood from me that were to be used for the surgery date. So that I would not have to use common blood from the blood bank. The blood available in the blood bank is not guaranteed to be free of hepatitis or AIDS so it makes the most possible sense to donate your own blood to your surgical procedure so that they simply put your blood back into your body during the surgery as needed. In my case, I had donated blood before the first surgery and had donated enough blood. So that there would be enough to last five to seven hours of surgery time. I received a call two days before my first surgery to let me know that an error had been made within the department that handles the blood in the hospital and that two thirds of the blood that I had donated for my surgery had been destroyed, which meant that once I got into surgery, they would likely use up all the blood that I had left and I would then have to use blood bank blood to finish the surgery out. The thought of this scared me as much as I have ever been scared in my life, but I could not conceive of putting off this long awaited surgery, even for a matter of a couple months in order to donate more blood to the surgery; preparing my mind to go into the surgery was taking all of my conscious effort that I had available. Being that most of my mind and energies were spent trying to get through the terrible pain. That resulted from a broken back. So I told them that we would go ahead and do the surgery and I would take my luck with the blood bank. The miracle is that by the time. My donated blood was running out, the surgery was finishing so that I did not need any additional blood from the blood bank. Both the orthopedic surgeon and the Neuro surgeon were left nearly speechless as to explaining why my surgery took only three hours to complete. In independent appointments with each of them, they shared that they had never had a surgery like mine go that quickly and that well. As far as I'm concerned, that was clearly a God thing. Then comes the second surgery in which they are to take out the metal from my back and the night before the surgery was to take place. I received a call from the neuro surgeon, who told me that the anesthesiologist, who was slated to do my surgery in the morning, happened to come across one of my previous lab results and in that lab results. He noted that certain levels with my kidneys and my liver were abnormally high and that there was nearly 100% chance that, if I was to go into surgery the following morning, and go under the anesthesia, that my body would not be able to recover and come back out from the anesthetic. Bottom line, best case scenario I would go into a coma, worst case and most probable, I would die in recovery. The neurosurgeon shared this with me, including that it is very unusual for an anesthesiologist to look into older labs from a patient going into surgery instead of simply working from the most recent and current labs. This particular anesthesiologist saved my life simply because he decided to look at previous labs as well as the current ones. I believe that God’s hand was in that moment and that He was the reason that the older labs were looked up. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that the second surgery took less time than the first did; also to the complete surprise and shock of both surgeons. One of them asked me, while I was in recovery, if I had asked people to be praying for me that morning. CC or I told him yes and he then nodded his head and said “that’s the only thing that would make any sense then. Amazing.” And then he left.

I’ve not included my experience which followed the second surgery, in which God healed me of my back pain and weakness from surgery. I will plan to write of that before the week is out.

Reminder...

Remember to double click on any pics you see in the blog and they will expand to their original size (not sure if I ever made that proclamation before now).

Once Again, After Midnight...

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

It shouldn't surprise me that I'm still up, especially since I took a couple hour nap this afternoon. Good thing is that I am actually tired and my eyes are struggling to type, so this will be short.

No attack today per se, just stomach issues and periodic sweats.

Figured out how to upload our digital videos from the camera onto the computer, now I just need to figure out what software I can use to edit them. Windows Movie Maker is on here, but I can't seem to get into the clips to cut them up and such. Anyone know of a free software for XP that will give me better editing capabilities? I'm green as a lawn at the moment, so any help will be hugely appreciated.
Here is the link to my first official upload minus the planned soundtrack (lack of appropriate permission kind of got in the way...but it was going to be "Hot Rod Lincoln" which timed PERFECTLY to the video length. Oh well.) It's boring with no music to it and no actual intentional editing, but it's a start.

Lastly but most significantly, my brother Phil called me this afternoon from Arizona...I haven't connected with him in over a couple years now, maybe more. Word got to him about my health issues and he called. Thick or thin, high or low, near or far, my brothers are still my brothers; God's gifts to me. I'm looking forward to communicating more with him as opportunities present themselves.

Carl, thanks so much for your email; I'm looking forward to seeing yuo guys when it works out.

Monday's Beginnings Again...

Monday, August 11, 2008

Went to bed before 11 pm last night and set my alarm for 8:15 am this morning, but I woke myself up around 7 am and have been up since. I am, in the moment, remembering how much I enjoyed mornings and how much I like the smell of the air in the early mornings. Come to think of it, most of my happiest family memories as a youth began with an early morning wake up: going duck hunting and dove hunting with my dad when I was Jr. High age, going fishing while camping at sunrise, seeing a lake still as glass before the weather of the day molested it, getting up while it was still dark to leave with our trailer and go on our family vacation, even going in to work at MPPC and FOPC while it was still dark and knowing that I would have the whole day to accomplish the many tasks set before me, etc.
It's still true that you don't REALLY know what you'll miss until you have it no more. My bud Brian, from my MPPC days, texted me a few days back sharing that he was running sound for a band rehearsal at his church and it struck me that I actually miss doing that...even when it would sometimes frustrate me to feel as though I was babysitting the technology at times, there have been far more times where my participation was crucial to the success of their rehearsal and if I invested myself, I could truly be a blessing to them and to the moment by becoming the invisible but audible unseen member of whatever band was rehearsing. Sometimes I was even asked my opinion of how the rehearsal seemed to be going and/or was asked my opinion of certain songs or musicianship.

It's hard to always stay home, generally speaking.
Time to prepare for PT this morning...
peace

Sunday Night: 1 hour and 48 minutes before midnight

Sunday, August 10, 2008

The kids went with my mom over to my aunt's house to swim for the afternoon while CC and I stayed home. I didn't get much accomplished, par for the course, but CC knocked out a number of things on her list.
About 4:00 I noticed that my abs were spasming again and that my muscles were tightening up around my waist and hips and chest. I took two K+ tabs and finished making my snack and just endured the tremors until they became more agressive and then I wetnin and sat in my black chair. I was able to eat the turkey sandwich I made and some carrots, but after that, it became difficult to focus.
As this was progressing, Kirsten arrived from her drive up from the Bay Area; her longest solo drive EVER! Very cool. Unfortunately for me, I was soon after unable to enjoy her company and conversation due to the body of the attack kicking in to full gear.

Hours later, I wake up and find that folks were returning from an errand or two while I had slept.
I'm not sure if anyone was home with me or not...I'll check with CC before we sleep tonight.

Time to call it.