This evening I happened across a delightful little site on the Internet entitled The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor. Yes, the same Garrison Keillor of Prairie Home Companion fame.
According to Wikipedia, "The Writer's Almanac is a daily radio and on-line program and podcast of poetry and historical interest pieces, usually of literary significance. It is hosted by Garrison Keillor and is produced and distributed by American Public Media. Program sponsors include, among others, The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry Magazine and The Mosaic Foundation of Rita and Peter Heydon.
"Each program is five minutes long and begins with the phrase 'And here is the Writer's Almanac. . . .' Each daily program includes vignettes about authors and other noteworthy people whose birthdays coincide with the date of the particular program, as well as excerpts of important events in history. The program continues with one or more poems usually chosen by Keillor, and ends with Keillor's traditional sign-off, 'Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.'"
Not bad counsel: Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Showing posts with label Random other stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random other stuff. Show all posts
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
My recent medical journey
Nearly two weeks ago—on Friday morning, August 14—I went for my twice-a-year visit with my rheumatologist. Normally our conversation goes something like this:
Doctor: "How have you been doing?"
Me: "Pretty much about the same. Nothing new to report."
Doctor: "That's great. See you again in six months."
Now, that's a bit oversimplified, I'll admit, but it pretty much summarizes the extent of our semiannual visits over the past few years. I have been very fortunate that my autoimmune disorder has been a relatively mild version of scleroderma—primarily affecting my hands and feet, my esophagus, and my lungs—and has not been progressing significantly since it was first diagnosed in the early 1990s.
This time I decided to lay out everything I've been dealing with lately, whether or not the symptoms seemed to have any bearing on the disorder he's been seeing me for. I discussed with him the three main symptoms I've been dealing with lately: extremely painful feet, a sensation that I'm having a difficult time breathing coupled with a lingering pressure or tightness in my chest, and the episode of gout I experienced the previous week in Illinois.
He focused mostly on the breathing issue and said it could be heart disease (which in my case is most likely), pulmonary hypertension, or lung disease. He called my cardiologist's office and arranged a heart echo and then the lung center and arranged pulmonary function tests.
On Monday of this week I went for the echocardiogram and the pulmonary function tests. A part of the lung tests was an update on my diffusion capacity, a measure of how well gases are passing from the air sacs of the lungs into the bloodstream. The technician who performed the latter test told me that my lung diffusion capacity had decreased to 40 percent, down from the 46 percent the previous time it was tested. By way of perspective, it has hovered around 50 percent over the past decade or so.
After the tests on Monday, I returned to work for the rest of the day, exercised at the gym with my trainer, and in the evening went with Claudia to "Lucky Stiff," a play at Rodgers Memorial Theatre. Near the end of the play, without any prior warning, I blanked out for perhaps a few seconds, we're not sure how long, although enough for Claudia to notice there in the dark theater. She wondered if I had fallen asleep. I felt terrible as the play ended, so she drove us home. As we were returning home and after we were home, I had the sensation that I needed to throw up, although I cannot technically do that because of surgery I had many years ago to repair a hiatal hernia. But my body kept trying to throw up. A most unpleasant feeling.
On Tuesday morning I went to visit my cardiologist. I still felt crappy from whatever was going on the night before, so I decided not to go to work at all that day. The doctor reviewed with me the test results from the previous day. I do not have pulmonary hypertension, which is good news, but he did confirm the 40 percent diffusion capacity rate. I had been doing some research on pulmonary hypertension, ever since my rheumatologist mentioned it as a possibility, and I am glad, quite frankly, not to be going down that road.
My cardiologist then decided to interrogate the heart monitor that was implanted in my chest a little over a year ago. The previous evening, along about 9:13, which would have been when I passed out at the theater, my heart quit beating for a full 15 seconds. Several episodes since that one showed my heart skipping beats for 3 to 5 seconds at a time. That is a new concern. He hooked me up to an external Holter monitor that I was to wear for the next 24 hours and to record any unusual symptoms.
I returned the Holter monitor midday Wednesday. I was feeling a lot better, pretty much back to normal, but had also taken the day as sick leave from work. A week from Friday I go back to see my cardiologist, and I guess we will talk about what happens next. I may now need to have a pace maker implanted. Stay tuned for further developments.
And through all this, the bottoms of my feet still hurt.
Doctor: "How have you been doing?"
Me: "Pretty much about the same. Nothing new to report."
Doctor: "That's great. See you again in six months."
Now, that's a bit oversimplified, I'll admit, but it pretty much summarizes the extent of our semiannual visits over the past few years. I have been very fortunate that my autoimmune disorder has been a relatively mild version of scleroderma—primarily affecting my hands and feet, my esophagus, and my lungs—and has not been progressing significantly since it was first diagnosed in the early 1990s.
This time I decided to lay out everything I've been dealing with lately, whether or not the symptoms seemed to have any bearing on the disorder he's been seeing me for. I discussed with him the three main symptoms I've been dealing with lately: extremely painful feet, a sensation that I'm having a difficult time breathing coupled with a lingering pressure or tightness in my chest, and the episode of gout I experienced the previous week in Illinois.
He focused mostly on the breathing issue and said it could be heart disease (which in my case is most likely), pulmonary hypertension, or lung disease. He called my cardiologist's office and arranged a heart echo and then the lung center and arranged pulmonary function tests.
On Monday of this week I went for the echocardiogram and the pulmonary function tests. A part of the lung tests was an update on my diffusion capacity, a measure of how well gases are passing from the air sacs of the lungs into the bloodstream. The technician who performed the latter test told me that my lung diffusion capacity had decreased to 40 percent, down from the 46 percent the previous time it was tested. By way of perspective, it has hovered around 50 percent over the past decade or so.
After the tests on Monday, I returned to work for the rest of the day, exercised at the gym with my trainer, and in the evening went with Claudia to "Lucky Stiff," a play at Rodgers Memorial Theatre. Near the end of the play, without any prior warning, I blanked out for perhaps a few seconds, we're not sure how long, although enough for Claudia to notice there in the dark theater. She wondered if I had fallen asleep. I felt terrible as the play ended, so she drove us home. As we were returning home and after we were home, I had the sensation that I needed to throw up, although I cannot technically do that because of surgery I had many years ago to repair a hiatal hernia. But my body kept trying to throw up. A most unpleasant feeling.
On Tuesday morning I went to visit my cardiologist. I still felt crappy from whatever was going on the night before, so I decided not to go to work at all that day. The doctor reviewed with me the test results from the previous day. I do not have pulmonary hypertension, which is good news, but he did confirm the 40 percent diffusion capacity rate. I had been doing some research on pulmonary hypertension, ever since my rheumatologist mentioned it as a possibility, and I am glad, quite frankly, not to be going down that road.
My cardiologist then decided to interrogate the heart monitor that was implanted in my chest a little over a year ago. The previous evening, along about 9:13, which would have been when I passed out at the theater, my heart quit beating for a full 15 seconds. Several episodes since that one showed my heart skipping beats for 3 to 5 seconds at a time. That is a new concern. He hooked me up to an external Holter monitor that I was to wear for the next 24 hours and to record any unusual symptoms.
I returned the Holter monitor midday Wednesday. I was feeling a lot better, pretty much back to normal, but had also taken the day as sick leave from work. A week from Friday I go back to see my cardiologist, and I guess we will talk about what happens next. I may now need to have a pace maker implanted. Stay tuned for further developments.
And through all this, the bottoms of my feet still hurt.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Change of address
Keith J. Beazer used to live in the house we now live in. He moved four years before we bought the home. And we have lived here going on 32 years.
Periodically, a couple times a year, we still get mail addressed to him at our address. Always from the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company. Because they've had to do with insurance, I always hand delivered the unopened envelopes to his married daughter who works at the same place I do. I naively assumed that the family at some point would change the address or otherwise put a stop to the letters coming our way.
Another one came today, a postcard notifying Keith of a class action suit for something that occurred in the year 2000. Did I happen to mention that Keith Beazer died something like 20 years ago? Or more?
And his life insurance company doesn't even seem to know about it. Scary.
Periodically, a couple times a year, we still get mail addressed to him at our address. Always from the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company. Because they've had to do with insurance, I always hand delivered the unopened envelopes to his married daughter who works at the same place I do. I naively assumed that the family at some point would change the address or otherwise put a stop to the letters coming our way.
Another one came today, a postcard notifying Keith of a class action suit for something that occurred in the year 2000. Did I happen to mention that Keith Beazer died something like 20 years ago? Or more?
And his life insurance company doesn't even seem to know about it. Scary.
Monday, May 18, 2009
And here we have Idaho again
A month ago I posted about my learning the Idaho state song in elementary school and singing it every time I enter the Gem State. I am not alone in that ritual. I was intrigued by this Family History Moment, written by Alaura Ramsey of Eagle, Idaho, on the back page of last weekend's Church News:
"My sister Debbie and I picked up my father from the airport. He was coming to town to attend his extended Mink family reunion. As he walked out the doors into the open air he began to sing loudly, 'And Here We Have Idaho!' It is the state song he learned in elementary school. I smiled. I turned my head, looked at him and thought, 'I love you.' . . . (Church News, May 16, 2009, 16).
"My sister Debbie and I picked up my father from the airport. He was coming to town to attend his extended Mink family reunion. As he walked out the doors into the open air he began to sing loudly, 'And Here We Have Idaho!' It is the state song he learned in elementary school. I smiled. I turned my head, looked at him and thought, 'I love you.' . . . (Church News, May 16, 2009, 16).
Monday, April 20, 2009
And here we have Idaho
I learned the Idaho state song during the spring of 1959. We had moved from Oregon to Idaho in the end of February, and I was a fourth grader at Scism School, a three-room country school south of Nampa. The fourth, fifth, and sixth grades were all in the same classroom with the same teacher. I learned the song in this classroom as we studied the history of Idaho.
That is the chorus of the song. I never lived in the Gem State after I became an adult, but like a true Idahoan, I always sang the chorus as we crossed the state line into Idaho on various visits through the years. As I sang it, the words gradually morphed into this slightly alternative version:
My family heard me sing my garbled version of the song enough times, almost as a rite of passage into the state, as it were, that some of them can sing some of the lines. I'm sorry that I taught them the wrong words.
I vaguely remember the lyrics of the first verse, although my singing the song as we entered the state did not include the verse:
I did not even remember, if ever I knew, that it had a second verse:
Interestingly, I never learned the Oregon state song during the nearly four years of school I attended in the Beaver State.
And here we have Idaho
Winning her way to fame.
Silver and gold in the sunlight blaze,
And romance lies in her name.
Singing, we're singing of you,
Ah, proudly too,
All our lives through, we'll go
Singing, singing of you,
Singing of Idaho.
That is the chorus of the song. I never lived in the Gem State after I became an adult, but like a true Idahoan, I always sang the chorus as we crossed the state line into Idaho on various visits through the years. As I sang it, the words gradually morphed into this slightly alternative version:
And here we have Idaho
Wending her way to fame.
Silver and gold in the sunlit plain,
And romance lies in her name.
Singing, singing of you,
All proudly too,
All our lives through, we'll go
Singing, singing of you,
Singing of Idaho.
My family heard me sing my garbled version of the song enough times, almost as a rite of passage into the state, as it were, that some of them can sing some of the lines. I'm sorry that I taught them the wrong words.
I vaguely remember the lyrics of the first verse, although my singing the song as we entered the state did not include the verse:
You've heard of the wonders our land does possess,
Its beautiful valleys and hills,
The majestic forests where nature abounds,
We love every nook and rill.
I did not even remember, if ever I knew, that it had a second verse:
There's truly one state in this great land of ours
Where ideals can be realized.
The pioneers made it so for you and me,
A legacy we'll always prize.
Interestingly, I never learned the Oregon state song during the nearly four years of school I attended in the Beaver State.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Swimming
When I was a boy we lived within a mile of the Snake River, which curved to the south and west of our farm in a great bend that gave the area its name, Big Bend. We never went swimming in the river. Mama always warned us of its treacherous undertows and currents. Plus I always secretly knew it had snakes swimming in it, and snakes and I respectfully kept our distance, thank you.
We did swim, however, in a swimming hole a quarter or a half a mile south of the farm house. The swimming hole was at the junction of a couple of drain ditches and had a culvert, a small, moss-covered cement thing, we used to slide down into the water, a welcomed relief on a hot summer afternoon. (I visited the spot after I was a grown-up and was utterly amazed at how much smaller it was than when I was little.)
At other times we would drive to a place called White Rock, located somewhere on the Owyhee River, a much smaller and evidently less treacherous stream, since Mama let us swim there.
Sometime in the summer of 1955, just after I turned six, I nearly drowned at White Rock. (Mama mentioned in her diary our going to White Rock three times during the summer of 1955: July 23, July 25, and July 28. She did not mention my near-drowning, but she did record on July 28 that while up swimming she shut her little finger in the car door and "it sure hurt.")
Anyway, back to drowning. I was wading along the side of the river in shallow water, stepping among the rocks that covered the bottom in the spot where I was. Some of my older brothers, swimming farther out in the stream, had seen some fish and were trying to catch them with their hands.
The next thing I remember was standing or sitting on a rock that was slippery, with my body mostly under the water, when a fish splashed right in front of my face, just inches away. It startled me enough that I lost my balance, and I slipped out into the water, my head underwater, and I started drifting downstream. I didn’t know how to swim, and I don’t think anyone had noticed me go under. It seemed like I floated along underwater for the longest time, as my brief little life passed by, although I was probably under only a few seconds.
As I floated by my brother Kay, who was thirteen, he saw my foot in the water. As he grabbed for it I remember his yelling something like, "Hey, here's that fish!" And he pulled a coughing, sputtering little brother foot first out of the water.
The whole experience scared me terribly. For years I had a great fear of any water I couldn’t see the bottom of, such as a lake or a river. A few years later, when I was a teenager, this fear kept me from earning the Eagle rank in Scouting. By the time I quit Scouting, I was only two merit badges short of Eagle—swimming and lifesaving.
By the summer of 1967, just after I graduated from high school, I finally worked up the courage to try water skiing for the first time. And I actually survived.
We did swim, however, in a swimming hole a quarter or a half a mile south of the farm house. The swimming hole was at the junction of a couple of drain ditches and had a culvert, a small, moss-covered cement thing, we used to slide down into the water, a welcomed relief on a hot summer afternoon. (I visited the spot after I was a grown-up and was utterly amazed at how much smaller it was than when I was little.)
At other times we would drive to a place called White Rock, located somewhere on the Owyhee River, a much smaller and evidently less treacherous stream, since Mama let us swim there.
Sometime in the summer of 1955, just after I turned six, I nearly drowned at White Rock. (Mama mentioned in her diary our going to White Rock three times during the summer of 1955: July 23, July 25, and July 28. She did not mention my near-drowning, but she did record on July 28 that while up swimming she shut her little finger in the car door and "it sure hurt.")
Anyway, back to drowning. I was wading along the side of the river in shallow water, stepping among the rocks that covered the bottom in the spot where I was. Some of my older brothers, swimming farther out in the stream, had seen some fish and were trying to catch them with their hands.
The next thing I remember was standing or sitting on a rock that was slippery, with my body mostly under the water, when a fish splashed right in front of my face, just inches away. It startled me enough that I lost my balance, and I slipped out into the water, my head underwater, and I started drifting downstream. I didn’t know how to swim, and I don’t think anyone had noticed me go under. It seemed like I floated along underwater for the longest time, as my brief little life passed by, although I was probably under only a few seconds.
As I floated by my brother Kay, who was thirteen, he saw my foot in the water. As he grabbed for it I remember his yelling something like, "Hey, here's that fish!" And he pulled a coughing, sputtering little brother foot first out of the water.
The whole experience scared me terribly. For years I had a great fear of any water I couldn’t see the bottom of, such as a lake or a river. A few years later, when I was a teenager, this fear kept me from earning the Eagle rank in Scouting. By the time I quit Scouting, I was only two merit badges short of Eagle—swimming and lifesaving.
By the summer of 1967, just after I graduated from high school, I finally worked up the courage to try water skiing for the first time. And I actually survived.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
My earliest memory
Water is a part of my very earliest memory. We were out on a lake in a small motorboat. It started raining, and I must have been absolutely terrified. All I can remember is water. Water everywhere—water in the vast lake, water falling out of the gray sky, water spraying on me from the noisy motor. And, most likely, water streaming out of my bawling two-year-old eyes.
According to my mother's diary for July 1, 1951, we were with my grandparents on an outing at Jenny Lake in Wyoming's Teton National Park. That would have been two and a half weeks before I turned two.
According to my mother's diary for July 1, 1951, we were with my grandparents on an outing at Jenny Lake in Wyoming's Teton National Park. That would have been two and a half weeks before I turned two.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Move from Oregon to Idaho
Fifty years ago today my family moved from Oregon to Idaho. Dale and I, who were seven and nine years old respectively, actually moved a day later. We stayed overnight at our old house on the Oregon-Idaho border so we could finish out the week at our grade school in Adrian. Dale was a first grader. I was in the fourth grade.
Our older brother Gene, who was fifteen, came sometime in the middle of the night, after returning from a basketball tournament in Baker, Oregon, to also be with us. Gene and Kay, who were both in high school at Adrian, would actually not move with us. They stayed with a ward member in the Adrian area, Ad Salter, to finish out the school year.
Our older brother Gene, who was fifteen, came sometime in the middle of the night, after returning from a basketball tournament in Baker, Oregon, to also be with us. Gene and Kay, who were both in high school at Adrian, would actually not move with us. They stayed with a ward member in the Adrian area, Ad Salter, to finish out the school year.
Monday, February 16, 2009
My trip into cyberspace
Now that all of the children are grown and married, Claudia and I have appreciated reading everyone's blogs as a means of keeping up with what everybody is doing and thinking. Claudia doesn't blog herself, but she is an avid reader.
My blogs rather exploded once I expanded beyond this initial one, although a majority of them (15 of the 23 I currently have) are devoted to various bits of family history (my mother's diaries, my missionary journal, family newletters, historical sketches of ancestors, and collections of stuff from our own thirty-six years of family history). Blogging seemed a reasonable way of organizing and disseminating a lot of historical information, of making sure any of you who wanted the various pieces of history would have access to it if our house burned down or I were hit by a bus on my way home from work or any of a number of other things that could happen.
A few of my other blogs are private (such as my current journal, my planner, and my random info keeper, for example). Doing them as blogs gives me immediate access to the information from any computer anywhere I can connect to the Internet. It's pretty handy.
And now, as of last night, I've taken the next step. Thanks to Rebecca's help and the encouragement of several others, I now have a Facebook account. And more friends already than a person should ever expect to have. Is this great or what!
My blogs rather exploded once I expanded beyond this initial one, although a majority of them (15 of the 23 I currently have) are devoted to various bits of family history (my mother's diaries, my missionary journal, family newletters, historical sketches of ancestors, and collections of stuff from our own thirty-six years of family history). Blogging seemed a reasonable way of organizing and disseminating a lot of historical information, of making sure any of you who wanted the various pieces of history would have access to it if our house burned down or I were hit by a bus on my way home from work or any of a number of other things that could happen.
A few of my other blogs are private (such as my current journal, my planner, and my random info keeper, for example). Doing them as blogs gives me immediate access to the information from any computer anywhere I can connect to the Internet. It's pretty handy.
And now, as of last night, I've taken the next step. Thanks to Rebecca's help and the encouragement of several others, I now have a Facebook account. And more friends already than a person should ever expect to have. Is this great or what!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
What's in a name?
There has been recent chatter on some blogs I happen to read concerning which school qualifies to be called the Lord's university. It seems to me the issue really has little to do with who has attended which school. It clearly has nothing to do with athletic prowess in any particular sport.
Both schools were established under the direction of a prophet of God. Both schools employ faithful members of the Church among faculty and staff. Both schools enroll faithful members of the Church as students. Both schools boast talented, faithful, distinguished alumni. And both schools have areas of academic excellence that are worthy of serious institutions of higher learning.
And, unfortunately, both schools have their share of those among students and alumni who bring discredit to their institutions and tarnish the good reputation each enjoys.
But only one of the schools is sponsored by the Church. Only one of the schools receives any of its financial support from tithing funds. Only one of the schools has prophets and apostles serving as its board of education. And only one of the schools has a currently serving General Authority as its president.
Hmm. Perhaps only one of the schools qualifies for the title.
Both schools were established under the direction of a prophet of God. Both schools employ faithful members of the Church among faculty and staff. Both schools enroll faithful members of the Church as students. Both schools boast talented, faithful, distinguished alumni. And both schools have areas of academic excellence that are worthy of serious institutions of higher learning.
And, unfortunately, both schools have their share of those among students and alumni who bring discredit to their institutions and tarnish the good reputation each enjoys.
But only one of the schools is sponsored by the Church. Only one of the schools receives any of its financial support from tithing funds. Only one of the schools has prophets and apostles serving as its board of education. And only one of the schools has a currently serving General Authority as its president.
Hmm. Perhaps only one of the schools qualifies for the title.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Go Utes! / Go Cougars!
I was happy to see that both Utah and BYU won their games again this week. I hope they both continue undefeated until they meet each other in late November. Though that will be a great game, I will not watch it because I do not want to jinx the Cougars' chance of winning.
(Historically BYU loses football games that I happen to watch. When they won what came to be known as the Miracle Bowl back in the 1980s, I had been watching on our little black-and-white TV until Grandma and Grandpa Lange showed up from southern California and I quit watching and the final-quarter miracle happened and the Y emerged victorious.)
(Historically BYU loses football games that I happen to watch. When they won what came to be known as the Miracle Bowl back in the 1980s, I had been watching on our little black-and-white TV until Grandma and Grandpa Lange showed up from southern California and I quit watching and the final-quarter miracle happened and the Y emerged victorious.)
What was that again?
Saturday, September 06, 2008
A journey through medieval Europe
I just took an interesting journey through medieval times, beginning with the period we commonly refer to as the dark ages and on through the centuries of European history up through the Renaissance and the Reformation and Ferdinand Magellan's incredible journey to circumnavigate the world. It was not a pretty place to live. Over and over I felt grateful that our turn on earth came in an age of enlightenment and advancement and Restoration and freedom, although I recognize that many on our planet still live in impoverished circumstances or under totalitarian regimes that echo the bondage of past ages.
My journey was through the pages of a remarkable book that I finished last night entitled A World Lit Only by Fire: The Medieval Mind and the Renaissance: Portrait of an Age, by William Manchester, a professor of history emeritus at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut. (The book was published by Bay Back Books / Little, Brown and Company: New York, 1993.) It was a compelling read that kept me engaged through all 296 pages of the text.
An apostate Christianity dominated the landscape throughout all these centuries, and from my perspective it seemed clear that a great apostasy, as the prophets and apostles abundantly foretold in the biblical record (such as in 2 Thessalonians 2:3; Acts 20:28-31; Galatians 1:6-12; 2 Thessalonians 2:7-8; 1 Timothy 4:1-3; 2 Timothy 3:1-7; 2 Timothy 4:3-4; and Jude 1:3-4), had indeed occurred. The church that emerged in both eastern and western factions bore little semblance to what the humble Galilean, the Son of God, had introduced among His disciples. The doctrines were changed, the covenants and ordinances were adulterated and then lost, the authority of heaven was clearly withdrawn, and the institution that survived resorted to corruption and force to control the minds and souls of its adherents in satanic and barbaric forms of unrighteous dominion. Falsehoods were proclaimed as truth. Freedom of conscience and expression were suppressed. Spiritual wickedness reigned in high places.
The medieval church was no friend to liberty, justice, or truth. It was no friend of heaven. I am absolutely not making any of this up (nor was William Manchester as he wrote his book). This is the church that burned people at the stake for presuming to make the holy scriptures available to people in their own tongue. This is the institution that banned or excommunicated or killed people for presuming to teach that the world was round rather than flat as the ecclesiastical hierarchy insisted. Magellan's voyage around the world changed that old flat notion, although incredibly the church would not accept that the earth was actually a sphere until after a couple more centuries had passed.
The Reformation, beginning in the early years of the sixteenth century, was a response to all the accumulated evil that masqueraded in the name of religion and was an attempt, as the very name suggests, to reform the church. But the new Protestants, as they quickly came to be called, proved every bit as ruthless and dogmatic and controlling as the old regime had been. The excesses continued. The consciences of men were still abused. The government of heaven was still missing from the earth.
It is small wonder then (and this is now not technically a part of my little book report here but a requisite postscript), that the God of heaven had to start afresh, after carefully preparing a place where freedom of thought and religion were finally available, with a new revelation from the heavens. The nature and character and attributes of God had become so confused and lost, dating from the early centuries of Christianity and canonized in confusing and false creeds that by force of sword became mainstream, orthodox belief, that the Father and the Son chose to appear again to reveal Their true nature and to begin anew the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ with its simple truths and ordinances and covenants and authority.
So, after centuries of apostasy and darkness, the heavens were opened once again on a spring morning in 1820 on the western frontier of the fledgling United States, in a marvelous theophany that verified the actual existence of God and that taught that God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ are actual, distinct, separate personages as the Bible clearly taught before its truths were obscured by the wrangling councils and creeds of later centuries.
Sadly, the philosophies of uninspired men had hijacked traditional Christianity from the simple scriptural truths taught by the Savior and His apostles. Things had gone badly wrong. A mere reformation was insufficient. A complete and total restitution or restoration of divine light and power and authority was necessary to get things back on track and to gather scattered Israel from all corners of the earth and to prepare a people, saints of the Most High God, for the imminent return of the Son of God, who this time will reign in glorious splendor as Lord of lords and King of kings. This coming millennial reign will differ in every respect from what prevailed during the dark and medieval ages portrayed by Professor Manchester in this book.
My journey was through the pages of a remarkable book that I finished last night entitled A World Lit Only by Fire: The Medieval Mind and the Renaissance: Portrait of an Age, by William Manchester, a professor of history emeritus at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut. (The book was published by Bay Back Books / Little, Brown and Company: New York, 1993.) It was a compelling read that kept me engaged through all 296 pages of the text.
An apostate Christianity dominated the landscape throughout all these centuries, and from my perspective it seemed clear that a great apostasy, as the prophets and apostles abundantly foretold in the biblical record (such as in 2 Thessalonians 2:3; Acts 20:28-31; Galatians 1:6-12; 2 Thessalonians 2:7-8; 1 Timothy 4:1-3; 2 Timothy 3:1-7; 2 Timothy 4:3-4; and Jude 1:3-4), had indeed occurred. The church that emerged in both eastern and western factions bore little semblance to what the humble Galilean, the Son of God, had introduced among His disciples. The doctrines were changed, the covenants and ordinances were adulterated and then lost, the authority of heaven was clearly withdrawn, and the institution that survived resorted to corruption and force to control the minds and souls of its adherents in satanic and barbaric forms of unrighteous dominion. Falsehoods were proclaimed as truth. Freedom of conscience and expression were suppressed. Spiritual wickedness reigned in high places.
The medieval church was no friend to liberty, justice, or truth. It was no friend of heaven. I am absolutely not making any of this up (nor was William Manchester as he wrote his book). This is the church that burned people at the stake for presuming to make the holy scriptures available to people in their own tongue. This is the institution that banned or excommunicated or killed people for presuming to teach that the world was round rather than flat as the ecclesiastical hierarchy insisted. Magellan's voyage around the world changed that old flat notion, although incredibly the church would not accept that the earth was actually a sphere until after a couple more centuries had passed.
The Reformation, beginning in the early years of the sixteenth century, was a response to all the accumulated evil that masqueraded in the name of religion and was an attempt, as the very name suggests, to reform the church. But the new Protestants, as they quickly came to be called, proved every bit as ruthless and dogmatic and controlling as the old regime had been. The excesses continued. The consciences of men were still abused. The government of heaven was still missing from the earth.
It is small wonder then (and this is now not technically a part of my little book report here but a requisite postscript), that the God of heaven had to start afresh, after carefully preparing a place where freedom of thought and religion were finally available, with a new revelation from the heavens. The nature and character and attributes of God had become so confused and lost, dating from the early centuries of Christianity and canonized in confusing and false creeds that by force of sword became mainstream, orthodox belief, that the Father and the Son chose to appear again to reveal Their true nature and to begin anew the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ with its simple truths and ordinances and covenants and authority.
So, after centuries of apostasy and darkness, the heavens were opened once again on a spring morning in 1820 on the western frontier of the fledgling United States, in a marvelous theophany that verified the actual existence of God and that taught that God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ are actual, distinct, separate personages as the Bible clearly taught before its truths were obscured by the wrangling councils and creeds of later centuries.
Sadly, the philosophies of uninspired men had hijacked traditional Christianity from the simple scriptural truths taught by the Savior and His apostles. Things had gone badly wrong. A mere reformation was insufficient. A complete and total restitution or restoration of divine light and power and authority was necessary to get things back on track and to gather scattered Israel from all corners of the earth and to prepare a people, saints of the Most High God, for the imminent return of the Son of God, who this time will reign in glorious splendor as Lord of lords and King of kings. This coming millennial reign will differ in every respect from what prevailed during the dark and medieval ages portrayed by Professor Manchester in this book.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
And the verdict is . . .
I guess for the record I should mention what's been happening lately. Thursday morning, a little more than an hour after I arrived at work, I started feeling very sick, starting first with nausea, then feeling light-headed, weak, sweaty, disoriented. I had the thought that I might pass out, so I actually sat on the floor of my office so that when I toppled over I wouldn't have as far to go.
I had the presence of mind to activate the heart monitor that had been implanted in my chest two weeks earlier.
This is stupid, I thought, so I got up from off the floor and called in my assistant and told her I did not feel well. She could tell I did not. I was probably pale at the time and disoriented. She wanted to know if I wanted to go down to the nurse's station, but I said I didn't think I could make it. So she called down, and within seconds it seemed the nurse arrived with a wheelchair. I can remember getting in the wheelchair, being pushed to the elevator, and getting on the elevator, but not much after that.
The next thing I remember was lying on a cot in the nurse's station with paramedics working all around me, asking questions, taking blood pressure, poking, proding. I remember hearing the nurse tell them that I was unresponsive for a while although my eyes were open. So I do not know if that means I actually passed out or not.
The paramedics wheeled me out to an ambulance in front of the Church Office Building. I was amazed that in addition to the ambulance there were also two fire engines there. That seemed an extravagant bit of overkill. It was the first time in my life I had ever ridden in an ambulance, and as they took me up to LDS Hospital it seemed to be an awfully bumpy ride. They had me eat a glucose stick on the way up and inserted an IV line into my left hand. Once in the emergency room, I was asked a lot of questions again (just as I had been in the nurse's station back at work and in the ambulance on the way to the hospital), and was hooked up to various medical devices and had a chest X-ray taken and such procedures.
My work had kindly called Claudia and told her I was being transported up to LDS Hospital, so she arrived at some point. Eliza starting spreading the word to other family members.
At some point a man came from Medtronic (he said he had been up in Ogden when they called him) to interrogate my heart monitor (I had naively assumed that they just read it, but no, they interrogate it). Apparently it served its function because it showed no unusual heart activity during the whole episode. That is good news.
My blood sugar level, even after eating the glucose in the ambulance, was only 48 after I arrived at the hospital. The normal range for a non-diabetic, I discovered from subsequent research on the Internet, is between 70 and 120. I had had a severe case of hypoglycemia, which is apparently unusual for someone who is not also diabetic.
Also, my white blood cell count was extremely elevated, something like 21,000, which the ER doctor said could be caused by one of three things (although afterward Claudia and I could only remember two of them): a response to the trauma my body had just been through, a serious infection going on in my body, or something else. I told the doctor I had had a cold and sore throat for the past week, but he said that would not be sufficient to account for such a high level.
Talmage came from work to join us just moments before they were going to release me to go home, which was about five or six hours after the whole ordeal started. When we exited the ER, Rebecca, Louise, Meghan, and Mimi were also there in the waiting room. Louise, who had come with Rebecca from Layton, kindly drove Claudia and me home. Talmage came to our house to pick her up, but they stayed the rest of the afternoon visiting. Louise fixed us lunch and called my primary care doctor to make an appointment for Friday afternoon and was generally a great help.
I was feeling pretty worn out and tired and just rested much of the rest of the day. I was also having chills even though everyone else thought it was a warm day.
What I had just been through reminded me of how I felt on the second day of our North Dakota trip when I got so sick as we were driving across eastern Montana (see journal entry for Thursday, May 15). I must have been experiencing hypoglycemia that morning also. And in much milder forms several other times in the past couple of months when I have felt light-headed.
Friday morning I had a follow-up visit with my regular cardiologist that had already been scheduled for some time. He said that one of the heart medications I have been taking, Metoprolol tartrate, could cause my blood sugar level to be low and told me to discontinue it.
Friday afternoon I went to see my primary care doctor, but his receptionist had no record that I even had an appointment (even though they had told us just the day before to come at 1:40 Friday afternoon). We did talk her into having the doctor review the record from what happened at the hospital yesterday. He did and ordered a lab test, after which I had a shot of something, and then had to come back an hour later and have another blood test. My appointment with him will now be next Thursday afternoon.
In addition to the hypoglycemia episode, I have had a fever and chills and an unsettled stomach and continued to pretty much rest most of the day Friday. We were planning to go to Hyrum early this morning, up in Cache Valley, to watch Anna participate in a triathlon, but I called her this evening and said we had decided not to come. She thought that made sense. My boss had called me from work Friday morning and said not to worry about the mission presidents' seminar that begins Sunday morning, if I didn't feel up to coming. I'll play that one by ear still.
I had the presence of mind to activate the heart monitor that had been implanted in my chest two weeks earlier.
This is stupid, I thought, so I got up from off the floor and called in my assistant and told her I did not feel well. She could tell I did not. I was probably pale at the time and disoriented. She wanted to know if I wanted to go down to the nurse's station, but I said I didn't think I could make it. So she called down, and within seconds it seemed the nurse arrived with a wheelchair. I can remember getting in the wheelchair, being pushed to the elevator, and getting on the elevator, but not much after that.
The next thing I remember was lying on a cot in the nurse's station with paramedics working all around me, asking questions, taking blood pressure, poking, proding. I remember hearing the nurse tell them that I was unresponsive for a while although my eyes were open. So I do not know if that means I actually passed out or not.
The paramedics wheeled me out to an ambulance in front of the Church Office Building. I was amazed that in addition to the ambulance there were also two fire engines there. That seemed an extravagant bit of overkill. It was the first time in my life I had ever ridden in an ambulance, and as they took me up to LDS Hospital it seemed to be an awfully bumpy ride. They had me eat a glucose stick on the way up and inserted an IV line into my left hand. Once in the emergency room, I was asked a lot of questions again (just as I had been in the nurse's station back at work and in the ambulance on the way to the hospital), and was hooked up to various medical devices and had a chest X-ray taken and such procedures.
My work had kindly called Claudia and told her I was being transported up to LDS Hospital, so she arrived at some point. Eliza starting spreading the word to other family members.
At some point a man came from Medtronic (he said he had been up in Ogden when they called him) to interrogate my heart monitor (I had naively assumed that they just read it, but no, they interrogate it). Apparently it served its function because it showed no unusual heart activity during the whole episode. That is good news.
My blood sugar level, even after eating the glucose in the ambulance, was only 48 after I arrived at the hospital. The normal range for a non-diabetic, I discovered from subsequent research on the Internet, is between 70 and 120. I had had a severe case of hypoglycemia, which is apparently unusual for someone who is not also diabetic.
Also, my white blood cell count was extremely elevated, something like 21,000, which the ER doctor said could be caused by one of three things (although afterward Claudia and I could only remember two of them): a response to the trauma my body had just been through, a serious infection going on in my body, or something else. I told the doctor I had had a cold and sore throat for the past week, but he said that would not be sufficient to account for such a high level.
Talmage came from work to join us just moments before they were going to release me to go home, which was about five or six hours after the whole ordeal started. When we exited the ER, Rebecca, Louise, Meghan, and Mimi were also there in the waiting room. Louise, who had come with Rebecca from Layton, kindly drove Claudia and me home. Talmage came to our house to pick her up, but they stayed the rest of the afternoon visiting. Louise fixed us lunch and called my primary care doctor to make an appointment for Friday afternoon and was generally a great help.
I was feeling pretty worn out and tired and just rested much of the rest of the day. I was also having chills even though everyone else thought it was a warm day.
What I had just been through reminded me of how I felt on the second day of our North Dakota trip when I got so sick as we were driving across eastern Montana (see journal entry for Thursday, May 15). I must have been experiencing hypoglycemia that morning also. And in much milder forms several other times in the past couple of months when I have felt light-headed.
Friday morning I had a follow-up visit with my regular cardiologist that had already been scheduled for some time. He said that one of the heart medications I have been taking, Metoprolol tartrate, could cause my blood sugar level to be low and told me to discontinue it.
Friday afternoon I went to see my primary care doctor, but his receptionist had no record that I even had an appointment (even though they had told us just the day before to come at 1:40 Friday afternoon). We did talk her into having the doctor review the record from what happened at the hospital yesterday. He did and ordered a lab test, after which I had a shot of something, and then had to come back an hour later and have another blood test. My appointment with him will now be next Thursday afternoon.
In addition to the hypoglycemia episode, I have had a fever and chills and an unsettled stomach and continued to pretty much rest most of the day Friday. We were planning to go to Hyrum early this morning, up in Cache Valley, to watch Anna participate in a triathlon, but I called her this evening and said we had decided not to come. She thought that made sense. My boss had called me from work Friday morning and said not to worry about the mission presidents' seminar that begins Sunday morning, if I didn't feel up to coming. I'll play that one by ear still.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
More on the journey of discovery
I survived yesterday's cardiac electrophysiology study at Salt Lake Regional Medical Center. Apparently there was not enough evidence to require a pacemaker be installed, but I did have an under-the-skin heart monitor installed that's good for two or three years or until some other intervention requires. I guess I will beep now when I go through airport security screenings.
The incision on my upper left chest, just a little below the collarbone, where they inserted the heart monitor, is very tender today.
The incision on my upper left chest, just a little below the collarbone, where they inserted the heart monitor, is very tender today.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
The continuing journey
I am still working with my primary care doctor and the cardiologists to try to determine what, if anything, is going on with my heart these days. We are pretty certain I have one. It is an ongoing journey of discovery.
Yesterday morning I went to LDS Hospital and had an ultrasound on the carotid arteries in my neck. I will not know the result of the carotid artery study until probably sometime next week, although I did ask the technician who did it what it looked like. He said he was not a doctor and could not really tell me, but he did show me the images and pointed out where it appears there is some plaque built up along the artery walls, more so in the artery on the left side than the right.
Next Wednesday, June 4, I am scheduled to have a cardiac electrophysiological study (ESP) done at Salt Lake Regional Medical Center. That is something similar to the angiogram I had nearly two months ago, but rather than checking out the plumbing of my heart they will be checking on the electrical functions. The procedure is similar in that in both types they go to the heart through an insertion in the groin area. I will be in the hospital much of Wednesday and, if they end up putting in a pacemaker or defribillator or long-term under-the-skin monitor, I will stay overnight. That is the likely scenario.
Someone from the billing office there called me a couple days ago and wanted me to pay upfront my 10 percent of the cost of the ESP procedure. My portion? $1,378. I commented that $13,780 seemed awfully expensive, and she replied that if I go ahead and have the pacemaker put in, which is a likely outcome of the procedure, that will cost another $150,000-something. Wow! And I had been flabergasted that the angiogram I had done at the new Intermountain Medical Center on April 3 had cost more than $5,000 just for the hospital's portion, not counting what the doctor charged.
Yesterday morning I went to LDS Hospital and had an ultrasound on the carotid arteries in my neck. I will not know the result of the carotid artery study until probably sometime next week, although I did ask the technician who did it what it looked like. He said he was not a doctor and could not really tell me, but he did show me the images and pointed out where it appears there is some plaque built up along the artery walls, more so in the artery on the left side than the right.
Next Wednesday, June 4, I am scheduled to have a cardiac electrophysiological study (ESP) done at Salt Lake Regional Medical Center. That is something similar to the angiogram I had nearly two months ago, but rather than checking out the plumbing of my heart they will be checking on the electrical functions. The procedure is similar in that in both types they go to the heart through an insertion in the groin area. I will be in the hospital much of Wednesday and, if they end up putting in a pacemaker or defribillator or long-term under-the-skin monitor, I will stay overnight. That is the likely scenario.
Someone from the billing office there called me a couple days ago and wanted me to pay upfront my 10 percent of the cost of the ESP procedure. My portion? $1,378. I commented that $13,780 seemed awfully expensive, and she replied that if I go ahead and have the pacemaker put in, which is a likely outcome of the procedure, that will cost another $150,000-something. Wow! And I had been flabergasted that the angiogram I had done at the new Intermountain Medical Center on April 3 had cost more than $5,000 just for the hospital's portion, not counting what the doctor charged.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
"All Aboard"
Utah's new commuter rail system, FrontRunner, currently running from Salt Lake City north to Ogden, officially began today.
This evening Claudia and I, Rachael and her three girls, and Camilla and Sam went to ride the new FrontRunner train. UTA is offering free rides today and next Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to welcome the public to the new commuter rail system. We went to the Woods Cross station, hoping to ride the train somewhere north of here, but we ended up taking the one headed south into Salt Lake and rode it to the end of the line and back to the Woods Cross station.
It seemed far better organized than the inaugural rides of Trax when it began operation in the Salt Lake Valley some years ago. For each train that arrived at the Woods Cross station, they would let only 50 riders on at a time. Even with that, the train cars were still very crowded, and I for example had to stand all the way into the Salt Lake station (which is located somewhere around 600 West and 400 South). I had a seat on the return ride, although Claudia Sue and Esther had a bit of a tug-of-war over who would sit in the seat next to me, oblivious to the fact that they both could have comfortably fit there.
This evening Claudia and I, Rachael and her three girls, and Camilla and Sam went to ride the new FrontRunner train. UTA is offering free rides today and next Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to welcome the public to the new commuter rail system. We went to the Woods Cross station, hoping to ride the train somewhere north of here, but we ended up taking the one headed south into Salt Lake and rode it to the end of the line and back to the Woods Cross station.
It seemed far better organized than the inaugural rides of Trax when it began operation in the Salt Lake Valley some years ago. For each train that arrived at the Woods Cross station, they would let only 50 riders on at a time. Even with that, the train cars were still very crowded, and I for example had to stand all the way into the Salt Lake station (which is located somewhere around 600 West and 400 South). I had a seat on the return ride, although Claudia Sue and Esther had a bit of a tug-of-war over who would sit in the seat next to me, oblivious to the fact that they both could have comfortably fit there.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Another new blog?
OK, so I really have five blogs going now:
1. Interstate 50 (http://i50.blogspot.com/) — More of the same, except perhaps a little more often
2. Dorothy's Diary 1958 (http://dorothy-1958.blogspot.com/) — As of today, I have posted all 31 daily entries from my mother's 1958 diary for January; more to be coming until I get caught up to date
3. The Dawning of a Brighter Day (http://dawning-brighter-day.blogspot.com/) — A collection of spiritual thoughts, etc.
4. Roots and Branches (http://rootbranch.blogspot.com/) — Nothing posted here yet, but it is intended to become a collection of family histories
5. Dean's 2008 journal — My private journal for this year
Is this insane? Or what?
1. Interstate 50 (http://i50.blogspot.com/) — More of the same, except perhaps a little more often
2. Dorothy's Diary 1958 (http://dorothy-1958.blogspot.com/) — As of today, I have posted all 31 daily entries from my mother's 1958 diary for January; more to be coming until I get caught up to date
3. The Dawning of a Brighter Day (http://dawning-brighter-day.blogspot.com/) — A collection of spiritual thoughts, etc.
4. Roots and Branches (http://rootbranch.blogspot.com/) — Nothing posted here yet, but it is intended to become a collection of family histories
5. Dean's 2008 journal — My private journal for this year
Is this insane? Or what?
Saturday, March 01, 2008
The dawning of a brighter day
I started a new blog today, entitled "The Dawning of a Brighter Day." It contains experiences and personal reflections on life, faith, the latter-day restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The Hostlers Model Railroad Festival
Claudia and I had a memorable outing this afternoon with Talmage, Louise, and Ben. We had driven to Layton to visit them and for Ben's birthday (which was on February 10) take him to Wal-Mart to let him pick out his birthday present. On our way to Layton we heard an ad on the radio about a model railroad festival being held at Ogden's Union Station and as a part of the festival an opportunity to see one of the new Frontrunner train cars. So we decided to go to Ogden.
Claudia took Ben shopping at Wal-Mart while I went to nearby Sam's Club to get a few items. During the time we wer
e in the stores a cold front moved through the area, and we were surprised at how much colder it was when we came out than when we went in. We went back and picked up Talmage and Louise, and went to Wendy's in Clearfield for lunch. It started raining while we were eating. We debated whether to still go to the train show, but decided to go for it.
It rained on us all the way to Ogden. While we were in Union Station enjoying the various model railroad displays, including an impressive one made of Legos, the rain turned to snow. We decided to walk the couple blocks through the snow to where we could get in the new Frontrunner car. Impressive. It is supposed to start operating in late April.
We then rode on a little shuttle train back to Union Station and then walked through the snow to where our car was parked and drove through heavy snow (although not yet sticking to the road) back to Layton, dropped Talmage, Louise, and Ben off at their house, and drove home to Bountiful.
Originally this afternoon was going to be the February-March family birthday party, celebrating Claudia's, Anna's, and Ben's February birthdays and Robert's March birthday. The party was going to have been at Michael and Shauna's house, but earlier in the week Shauna had called to say Meghan was really sick and had a persistent high fever from the flu-like virus going around. So Becca offered her house. Robert and Rachael were planning to be down from Malad for the weekend, but Rachael called Friday morning to say Claudia Sue was similarly sick. And then just this morning Becca called to say that Hyrum and perhaps even herself were similarly sick, so we decided to cancel the party for now.
Claudia took Ben shopping at Wal-Mart while I went to nearby Sam's Club to get a few items. During the time we wer
e in the stores a cold front moved through the area, and we were surprised at how much colder it was when we came out than when we went in. We went back and picked up Talmage and Louise, and went to Wendy's in Clearfield for lunch. It started raining while we were eating. We debated whether to still go to the train show, but decided to go for it.It rained on us all the way to Ogden. While we were in Union Station enjoying the various model railroad displays, including an impressive one made of Legos, the rain turned to snow. We decided to walk the couple blocks through the snow to where we could get in the new Frontrunner car. Impressive. It is supposed to start operating in late April.
We then rode on a little shuttle train back to Union Station and then walked through the snow to where our car was parked and drove through heavy snow (although not yet sticking to the road) back to Layton, dropped Talmage, Louise, and Ben off at their house, and drove home to Bountiful.
Originally this afternoon was going to be the February-March family birthday party, celebrating Claudia's, Anna's, and Ben's February birthdays and Robert's March birthday. The party was going to have been at Michael and Shauna's house, but earlier in the week Shauna had called to say Meghan was really sick and had a persistent high fever from the flu-like virus going around. So Becca offered her house. Robert and Rachael were planning to be down from Malad for the weekend, but Rachael called Friday morning to say Claudia Sue was similarly sick. And then just this morning Becca called to say that Hyrum and perhaps even herself were similarly sick, so we decided to cancel the party for now.
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