Am I doing this right?

        I feel like Wiley Coyote.  He is hungry, all he wants is to survive. To make it to the next day, the next meal, the next cliff fall.  Wiley is doing absolutely everything in his power to reach his goal, his humble goal.  He doesn't ask for lavish restaurant food, or need rare delicacies to make him happy.  All he wants is the food source that he was created to eat, nothing more. (Sorry Roadrunner... that's you.)  How does Wiley obtain his goal?  By any and all means within his power!  He uses his intellect, his physical abilities, and patience.  He builds traps, and creates inventions to match the Roadrunner's speed.  What has he gained for his efforts?  30 years of hunger! (and possibly a doctorate in engineering)  I admire his will and dedication to his goals, but that doesn't fill his belly. (I will return to Wiley in a sec.)
        Yesterday at 9:30am I arrived at Deaconess Hospital in high spirits because for the first time in 6 months I have a real shot at getting an answer to my ailments.  I was a bit nervous, but so very excited to get it done.  Cherie was more worried than me I think.  I was called back by the nurse to change into my oh so flattering backless gown.  For the next hour or so I answered a plethora of personal questions about my health history and 10 times they asked if I knew what procedure was being preformed. "I am having a muscle biopsy on my left deltoid the size of my pinky finger." (gotta make sure they are doing the right procedure... no lobotomy for me yet!)  Finally I was wheeled to the OR and prepped for surgery.  The last thing I remember was a blood presure cuff tightening on my left leg.
        I awoke in a small room with a nurse hovering over me.  I felt great, like waking from the perfect nap.  I was ready to dress and go home, but the nurse had other plans.  She stated that I needed to recover for a hour to make sure there was no adverse reactions from the meds.  For some reason the anesthetic they gave me made me very feisty!  I felt so good that I told her thank you, but you can't keep me here against my will, I'm a grown man (I know that's debatable)!  Just as I was about to rip all the tubes and bandages off Cherie came in to check in on me.  I told her I was ready to go home to see the kids and the nurse wouldn't let me cause she is mean. With a confused look she stepped out to speak to the nurse about this behavior. (I knew Cherie had my back!)  I smugly waited for her to come back and help me out of there.  The second she came in the door I knew I was in trouble.  "Zachariah! (my trouble name) leave that poor nurse alone and let her do her job!"  With my head hug, I waited the last 45 min. until I was released officially.  In three weeks we should have a diagnosis!
        Upon returning home we went to work posting our project vehicles to raise money for bills, and to see my sister's missionary farewell next week.  I have a '87 Pontiac Fiero which runs, and a non running '76 Datson pickup that I posted on Craigslist.  I checked the Fiero to make sure it starts and drives.  I was hoping to get $1000 for the car and $300 for the truck.  As soon as I posted it I received a half dozen text from interested parties.  Wow!  We could have them sold in the morning and get bills paid before they get delinquent!  I had three potential buyers here this morning all at the same time and I felt that they would compete for the chance to buy the vehicles... if only the Fiero would start.  Two buyers left as soon as the new battery wouldn't take a charge.  The third stuck around and looked at the truck too.  Tears threatened to pour as he offered me $500 for both cars, a third of what I was wanting for the both together.  I wanted to tinker and fix it, but both of my arms are inoperable and I didn't have the strength to do it alone.  Reluctantly I accepted the offer.
        After signing the titles, and counting the money I went to my room and sobbed.  What more could I do to provide for my family?  Why would the car act up the moment it was selling?  I fell to my knees and poured my soul to my God, My loving Heavenly Father.  Money didn't appear out of thin air, or a millionaire didn't come drop a sack of gold on the doorstep.  I did however feel overwhelming peace.  I am $500 better off than I was, my "belly" would be full.  That, my friends is the difference between Wiley Coyote and me.  I asked for help.  I know I cant do it alone, I know the Lord has prepared people in my life to assist and uplift me if I but ask.  Praise be to him and his plan, I don't know what comes next and that is OK.  I am at peace, and my family will be fed.  Don't let pride keep you from blessings  that are waiting for you.
        Ask and ye shall receive, knock and it shall be opened unto you...
        

Smooth sailing from here on... Dang it, Here comes a storm!

        I've heard the expression; "Its darkest before the dawn." I was never quite sure of that, but I do know from my military and corrections experience that it gets coldest before the dawn.  There have been multiple occasions when I was on the graveyard shift and could see the sun light peeking over the horizon only to experience bone chilling cold before the full brightness was visible. That is precisely how I was beginning to feel as I returned home from surgery.  I could feel the cold envelope me, warmth and comfort was hard to find for a time.  I knew that things get harder when you try to make a change for the better, but had never really felt it personally.  Up until this point I had coasted through life as if being in the lazy river, floating along whereever the current took me.  Waiting for opportunities to come my way, never paddling or striving for anything better.  I was comfortable and comfort really means complacent.  I would justify my actions by saying "If I needed to change, God would make it happen."  Boy was I right, but not like I ever expected.   I was in dire need of a good swift kick to the nether regions, and I got a big one!
        The surgery went well, and I was home the evening of the incident.  I have patches of numbness throughout my forearm. The doctor said I may never get feeling back in those spots.  My pointer, middle, and ring fingers on my right hand are in a constant state of pins and needles as if they were slept on all night and wont wake up.  They are also numb on the outer skin.  They feel like somebody else's fingers when I touch them.  Swelling, dexterity, and range of motion are a constant obsticle, as well as my wrist cannot carry its own weight; it flops about with every movement. 
        I have always lived by the notion;"Don't ask others to do what you can do your self."  I was facing being almost completely dependent upon my wife.  She diligently helped me do the most menial tasks ; getting dressed, tying my shoes, bathing, retrieving dropped or forgotten items that I needed, and being my cab driver.  It also left her to do all the household chores and cleaning homes on the side for a few much needed dollars.  I learned patience and the value of receiving service with gratitude.  Cherie and I have experienced a closeness that I doubt we would've achieved with out this accident. (she truly is one of the great women of our time!)  Things were getting better even though times were very hard.  My children are helping around the house like never before.  My mother and Cherie both recommended blogging to get the words out and start healing the emotional scars. 
        The Lord truly can turn the bad and idiotic things we do to ourselves, into blessings and to help build his kingdom.  I am very grateful for that.  It is not all sunshine and roses, but i can see the light just at the horizon and can smell the sweet fragrance of peace and love not far off.  Since this incident I have quit smoking, and study my scriptures almost daily.  I strive to keep the sabbath day holy more so than I ever have before.  I am slower to anger and less argumentative.  I say this not to boast, but to show what I am willing to do to have His grace with me and my family.  I testify that he lives and knows each of us and he weeps with us during our dark times.  He also rejoices in our gains, and our personal triumphs.  I couldnt have known this joy if not for him and your support, yes you! 
     Tomorrow I am having a muscle biopsy to determine what is causing the muscle wasting, your prayers are felt and I thank you.  More to come after surgery, tune in next time, same Zach time same Zach channel!

       

Broken

      I was laying on the hospital bed waiting for the doctor to arrive and decide what was needed to be done to fix my shredded arm.  Nurses, Phlebotomists, and billing personnel came in and out asking questions and reading screens, while I tried to hold back the tears.  I was not crying from the pain, or for my situation.  Tears poured down because in that moment I realized I had neglected one thing that could have prevented this whole situation.  I was too prideful to admit that I needed help in dealing with my disorder and with the emotional shock of everything that was going on; No insurance, a genetic disorder that could possibly have been passed to my children, loss of my job and any way of supporting my family, and now I may lose my right arm due to a silly accident.  I knew that if I had turned to my Heavenly Father, and reached out to my Bishop, or my family sooner then my family and I could have peace instead of the feelings of worry, fear, and despair.  I didn't want to tell my loved ones that I am weak and cannot do this alone.  I felt like Elsa from the Frozen movie; "Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know." 
         Feelings of anger also surfaced in that moment.  If the Lord does really love me, and does not give us more than we can bear, then why am I lying in this bed torn, teary, and tattered? Shouldn't the Powers of Heaven uplift me and allow me to see where I was going? Maybe even an Angel descending from the clouds to administer to me like the Saints of old. I felt an enormous amount of pressure at this time. I felt as if I was asked to do way more than I could do. I felt as if I was alone.
        As I was in this mental battle between humility and extreme pride, my wonderful wife came into the room. I was blatantly spewing these thoughts to her and anyone else who happened to be in the room. She really is wonderful, she listened to what  I had to say and encouraged me when I needed it, and cried with me when I cried. (And I know there is a lot of crying going on, but I was under the influence of morphine) A short time later, my Bishop and his Counselor came to give me a Priesthood Blessing. I don't remember exactly what was said, only that I knew things would get better. Not this instant or maybe not next week, but it would get better. I was reminded of a talk given in Stake Conference about how the Lord loves broken things;

"Broken clouds give rain
 Broken storms yield light
The break of day heals night
Broken pride turns blindness into sight
Could it be that God loves broken things?
And yet our broken faith and our broken promises
     Sent love to the cross
And still that broken flesh that broken heart of his
Offers us such grace and mercy
Covers us with love undeserving
This broken soul that cries for mending
This broken heart for offering
I'm convinced that God loves broken me
Praise His name my God loves broken things."
By Kenneth Cope

I was and still am broken. But through His love and mercy I am on the mend.

Out of the Frying Pan...

                   OK where were we... Oh yeah, no insurance. After having to quit my job I lost my employer insurance and I signed up for Medicaid. Cherie was working part-time with the promise of full time work, but that never came. Even though she was only part-time, Medicaid dropped her and I from the policy but kept the kids on, saying our income was too high. (like $800 a month is too high...?) So now we're in a bit of a pickle. If Cherie kept working we could bring home at least some money and hold out for a possible permanent position somewhere down the road, or she could quit her job make no money but I could continue with my diagnosis. Decisions, decisions.... Cherie and  I talked about it, prayed about it, talked to others about it, and I even talked to myself about it (again I didn't answer) and we decided the diagnosis was more important that the part-time work. It was very nerve racking, we were scared to lose our only source of income.
                   The day finally came for Cherie's last shift, she was excited and sad all at the same time. She had a later shift, and while she was getting ready disaster struck. To make a long story short, I was attacked by four panes of glass. They tried to eat my right arm up to my elbow. Narrowly missing vital blood vessels and nerves. I remember the instant it happened like it was in slow motion. I was viewing the whole incident as if I was a bystander. I could hear every crack of the glass, every rip of my skin. I pulled my arm out from the teeth of the window, and viewed a gruesome scene. I had three 3-5 inch gashes on my forearm and elbow. It really looked like a great white shark had just finished gnawing on my arm. My pointer, middle, and ring finger  were instantly numb. My wrist hung limply and blood dripped liberally down my arm onto the ground. Before the pain came I cried out in disgust at what had happened. I ran around the outside of the house to the back door, screaming for Cherie to call 911.

                   Those of you that already know me, know that I will not go to the doctor unless absolutely necessary. (I once waited 18 hours before going in for a burst appendix and another 6 hours for e-coli
poisoning) I was yelling for Cherie to grab a towel because of how much blood was dripping out. I feel so bad for her, she had no idea what had happened and I was demanding that she do three different things at once; call 911, get me a towel, and don't let the kids see. I was in so much shock that I was running around the house with Cherie at my heels begging me to sit down. I even ran to the next door neighbors and asked them to watch the kids. By this time the ambulance was pulling up along with a fire truck, and a few police cars. This is exactly what I need... Not only was my strength failing me, I completely wrecked my right arm. My dominant right arm.
                     As they loaded me into the ambulance my mind was with Cherie and the kids. Will they be OK? Were they frightened? Would they look at me the same? How could this happen? Luckily, I had some good paramedics that kept me calm and helped me keep my mind on the task at hand. "Can you feel this? Move your fingers for me. Don't think about that right now." I just kept thinking "OK guys! Put me out! MORPHINE!" But that didn't happen for another hour and a half...